Count Bruhl Part 6

When? How?'

'Let me come to myself from fear and astonishment,' said Bruhl quietly.

'I do not know how it happened. Providence watched over me, _un pauvre cadet de famille_. My love for the King worked a miracle. I am dazed.'

Moszynski looked at him.

'If your good luck continues, you will soon be ahead of us all. We must recommend ourselves to your favour.'

'Count, be merciful, and do not mock a poor boy like me.'

Saying this, Bruhl, as if he were tired, wiped the perspiration from his forehead and sat on the nearest chair.

'One would think,' said Moszynski, 'that he had met with the greatest misfortune.'

This was lost on Bruhl, for he was deep in thought. All in the room dropped their voices to a whisper as they told the story of the lucky boy to those who came in. The news spread in the town and when in the evening Bruhl appeared in the theatre among the pages, Sulkowski, who attended the Prince, came to congratulate him.

Bruhl seemed to be very grateful and could not find words to thank him for his kindness.

'Do you see, Bruhl,' whispered Sulkowski, looking upon him protectingly, 'I told you that they would appreciate you at your right value. I was not mistaken in thinking that our lord's eagle eye had singled you out in the crowd.'

They applauded the singer; Sulkowski also clapped his hands, but turning to his friend he said:

'I applaud you.'

The page bowed humbly, blushing.

After the end of the play he had a chance of disappearing, and the friends who looked for him in the castle and in his rooms could not find him. They thought it was his modesty; it was nice of him not to boast of his good fortune. On enquiry his servant told them that he had gone out.

The fact was, that after the opera Bruhl stole into the Castle street and from it he went towards Taschenberg, where Cosel formerly lived, and which was now occupied by a daughter of the Emperor of Austria, Josepha.

Those who met him might have suspected that he was going to deposit his laurels at the feet of some G.o.ddess. It was very probable. He was twenty years of age, he was very good-looking, and the women, spoiled by Augustus, were very coquettish. It was evident that he was anxious not to be seen or recognised, for his face was wrapped in his mantle and every time he heard steps he hastened his own.

He entered the house next to the princess's palace, ran up the stairs, and knocked three times at the door.

There was no answer. Having waited a little while, he knocked again in the same way.

Slow steps were heard within, the door opened a little, and the head of an old man appeared. Bruhl slipped in quickly.

The room into which he entered, lighted by one candle held by the servant standing at the door, was full of bookshelves and somewhat gloomy. The old servant, questioned in whispers, pointed to the door in lieu of an answer. Bruhl threw off his cloak and going on tip-toe approached the door at which he knocked softly.

'_Favorisca!_'

The large room into which the page now entered was lighted by two candles under green shades. There were several tables loaded with books, between two windows there was a large crucifix, on the sofa a guitar was lying.

At the table leaning on one hand, stood an elderly, slightly bent man: his face was yellowish, bony; he wore a long beard; his eyes were black. By his features it was easy to recognise an Italian. There was something enigmatical about his thin, pale lips, but the whole face was rather jovial than mysterious. There was something ironical as well as kindly in it. A large hooked nose almost covered his lower lip.

On his closely-shaven hair he wore a black silk cap; his dress was long and dark; it indicated a priest.

He welcomed Bruhl with outstretched arms.

'Ah! it's you, my dear boy! How glad I am to see you.'

The youth bent humbly and kissed his hand.

The host seated himself on the sofa, at the same time pointing to a chair for Bruhl, who sat down, still holding his hat.

'_Ecco! Ecco!_' whispered the old man. 'You think you bring me news, but I already know about it. I am truly delighted. You see Providence rewards, G.o.d helps those who worship Him.'

'I am thankful to Him,' said Bruhl quietly.

'Remain faithful to the creed to which you have opened your heart, and you shall see.' He raised his hand. 'You shall go far, far. I am telling you that. I am poor and humble, but I am the Lord's servant.'

He looked at the humble page, and having accomplished his pious duty, added joyfully:

'Have you been to the opera? How did Celesta sing? Did the King look at her? Was the Prince there?'

Padre Guarini was the name of the man to whom Bruhl paid this visit; he was the Prince's confessor, confidant of the Princess, spiritual father of the young count, but he seemed to care as much about the opera as about the conversion of the young man sitting before him.

He asked about the tenor, the orchestra, the audience, and at length if the page went behind the stage.

'I?' asked Bruhl with astonishment.

'I should think no worse of you for that, if for the sake of music, of art, you wished to see how those angels look as common mortals, divested of the glitter and sparkle of the stage. Celesta sang like an angel but she is ugly as a devil. There is no danger that the King will fall in love with her.'

And Padre Guarini laughed.

'And who rules over the King?' asked he. And without waiting for an answer, he said: 'It seems that, just as in Poland, the election is coming.'

He laughed again.

'But tell me something new; besides that you have become the King's secretary.'

'I have nothing to say, except that nothing can change my heart.'

'Yes, yes, I advise you to be a good Catholic, although secretly. We can't expect from the present King much zeal for the faith. We must be satisfied with him as he is, but his successor will be different; our pious lady Josepha will not permit him to leave the path of truth. The Prince is pious, a faithful husband, a zealous Catholic. When he becomes ruler we shall be mighty. Let us be patient and we will manage the Protestants. _Chi va 'piano, va sano--qui va sano, va lontano!_' He repeated the word _lontano_ several times and sighed.

'As a souvenir of this fortunate day,' added he, 'I must bless you; it will bring you good luck. Wait.'

Padre Guarini pulled out a drawer and took from it a black rosary on which were a cross and medallion.

'The Holy Father blessed it; to the one who recites it every day, pardon is granted.'

Bruhl murmured something indistinctly by way of thanks, kissed his hand and rose.

Padre Guarini bent over and whispered something in his ear. The page, having nodded in the affirmative, kissed his hand again and went out.

The old servant awaited him at the door with a candle. Bruhl gave him a thaler, wrapped himself in his mantle and descended the stairs. On reaching the door he looked cautiously down the street, and seeing no one pressed forward. Then he stopped, seeming in doubt as to where to go. He put the rosary which he was holding in his hand in a side pocket, and looked for a familiar house near St Sophia Church.

He glanced round once more. The door was opened. A little oil lamp gave a pale light. The s.p.a.cious Gothic hall was quiet and solitary. Bruhl rang the bell on the first floor. A female servant came and opened it.