One day towards evening both the great ministers were sitting in Sulkowski's house: they were silent and seemed to try to penetrate each other's thoughts. Through the open window came the joyful chirping of the birds and the rumbling of carriages.

The faces of the two rivals to a close observer bore a striking difference. One who looked at BrÜhl at a moment when he thought he was not observed, would have seen under that sweet smile a cold perversity, the depths of which were frightening. In his eyes could be seen the keenness and cunning of a society man who guesses and understands everything, who penetrates the springs of social movements and does not hesitate to take hold of them, if he can do so safely, and provided they can be turned to his own advantage.

Sulkowski was a proud petty noble, who having become a lord, thought that he was so sure of his high position, that he believed everything was subservient to him. He treated BrÜhl as malum necessarium and looked down upon him with that superiority, sure of itself, which shuts its eyes to peril. He was not lacking in ideas, but he was lazy and disliked every effort.

Looking on them it was easy to guess the result of so unequal a fight, for never did a beautiful face conceal more falsehood than that of BrÜhl, who, when he knew that he was watched, could assume an innocent, childlike expression.

Two men of such calibre, placed in opposition, could not help fighting, but they did not fight yet; on the contrary they seemed to be the best of friends. Some instinct made Sulkowski feel that BrÜhl was his antagonist, but he laughed at the idea. BrÜhl was perfectly aware that he would not be able to rule absolutely over the Prince, until he overthrew Sulkowski, who furnished arms against himself. Although he could dissimulate and wait, Sulkowski sometimes avowed to himself, that he disliked the omnipotence of the Jesuit at the court, and that the Princess's influence also stood in his way.

He did not make BrÜhl his confidant, but he did not exercise sufficient caution and permitted him to guess. While BrÜhl and Guarini were the best of friends Sulkowski kept aloof from him. He was very respectful towards the Princess, but did not try to win her particular favour. Sometimes he would say something that would have passed muster under the rule of Augustus, but was unadvisable with so severe a Princess.

Father Guarini, knowing that the Prince was fond of him, bowed to him but kept his distance.

He very seldom met BrÜhl alone, as one of them was obliged to be always with the Prince, to keep him amused.

Evidently they had said all they had to say to each other, for Sulkowski was silent, and BrÜhl did not interrupt him, but he did not leave him, plainly wishing to say something further before he left.

After a long silence, the Count said:

'All that must remain entre nous. The house of Hapsburg is near an end, the glory of the Saxon family should begin. I know well, that we gave up all right of inheritance, that we accepted the Pragmatic Sanction, but with the death of the Emperor, things must take another turn for us. We should, at least, take Bohemia, even Silesia, recompensing Prussia elsewhere. I told you that I made a plan. I told Ludovici to make a copy of it.'

'I should like to have it and to think it over,' said BrÜhl. 'The plan is good and worthy of you and most important for the future of Saxony. I need hardly say that it will give me great pleasure to assist in its realisation. You have in me the most zealous helper and servant. Tell Ludovici to make a copy for me.'

'I do not wish,' said Sulkowski flattered by his approval, 'that this plan for the division of Austria be seen twice by Ludovici. I shall make a copy of it myself.'

BrÜhl smiled very sweetly.

'It would be a great favour,' he said, 'the means of realising such a wonderful project must be thought over beforehand. One could find in Berlin--'

'Ah!' said Sulkowski smiling, 'there is no doubt that it will be well received there: I rest assured that Prussia is our best friend.'

'I agree with you,' said BrÜhl, 'the question is only that they might not wish too much.'

'But it's not yet time to treat about it.'

'But it is to prepare the way for the strategy we are going to use.'

After saying this, BrÜhl rose and observed carelessly:

'I am almost certain that that medal was stamped by someone from Dresden, and I have my suspicions as to who did it.'

Sulkowski turned to him.

'Who could be that daring man?'

'Who could be, if not a courtier, who is confident that his position will protect him? A man of small importance would not dare, for he would know that it would bring him in contact with the executioner and the pillory.'

'Yes, but as he attacked our august lord, he might meet with something worse, because we could not overlook that.'

'I think likewise!' said BrÜhl. 'They are already too daring and the good-heartedness of our Prince and your magnanimity give them still more courage. Have you noticed how daring Watzdorf junior is?'

Sulkowski looked at BrÜhl with pity.

'You don't like Watzdorf,' he said. 'He is a buffoon like his father, but not dangerous.'

'Excuse me,' said BrÜhl with animation. 'The one who trifles with everything, will not respect anything. He will harm me, and you, my dear Count, and at length, our gracious lord.'

'He would not dare.'

Then taking hold of BrÜhl's button, he said confidentially:

'Tell me frankly, why do you dislike him?'

'He annoys me,' said BrÜhl, 'by his jokes.'

'I think you imagine,' Sulkowski continued, 'that he is in love with Frances Kolowrath.'

'I should not mind that, because it would prove his good taste,' said BrÜhl apparently with indifference, although he was irritated.

'But he annoys the Countess Moszynski for whom I have the greatest regard.'

'Ah!' exclaimed Sulkowski laughing.

'The Countess could defend herself,' BrÜhl said.

'She could ask the Prince to punish the man, but the worst of it is that he slanders us all, without any exception.'

'What? Me also?' asked Sulkowski.

'I could prove it to you.'

'It would be too daring!' said Sulkowski. 'Take my word for it. I think that he ordered that medal to be struck--' said BrÜhl.

'It is only a suspicion, my dear BrÜhl.'

'Perhaps it is more than a suspicion,' said BrÜhl.

'I am certain that he personally gave away four such medals.'

'To whom?'

'To the people belonging to the court. Where does he get so many of them? And why such zeal in distributing a medal which I buy out and destroy?'

'But are you certain of it?'

'Henniche will furnish you with the names of the people.'

'That alters the question,' Sulkowski said. 'It is a fact, and although I explain it by his animosity towards you, it hurts me also.'

'To be quite certain,' BrÜhl remarked, 'I must tell you frankly, that I ordered secret search to be made in his rooms. A number of those medals were found, which left no doubt that he was the author of them and you must punish him for that. In your high position you might be indifferent,' BrÜhl continued with well-played animation, 'but for such a small man as I am--'

Sulkowski frowned.

'I never could suspect that Watzdorf would be capable of such villainy.'

'You shall have proofs of it, but, in that case, I shall not act without you; only I beg of you to punish him. To KÖnigstein--'

Sulkowski became thoughtful.

'I would pity him,' he said, 'but if he is guilty--'

'I shall not ask the Prince to do that--you must act. I am your servant, your assistant. I am nobody, and I don't wish to be anybody by myself: my warmest wish is to remain Sulkowski's right hand.'

Sulkowski took his hand and said with his usual pride:

'I wish to have you for my friend, only my friend, my dear BrÜhl, and for my part, I shall serve you as a friend. I need you, and I can be useful to you.'

They shook hands; BrÜhl played admirably the part of being moved.

'Listen, BrÜhl, I speak as a friend; many people know that Watzdorf is in love with Frances; if you wish to get rid of him for that reason, believe me they will accuse you and not me.'

BrÜhl simulated surprise also admirably.

'My dear Count,' he said with animation, 'I am not jealous at all, but I can be for my lord's and your honour. To-day they attack us as well as the throne, to-morrow they will attack our gracious lord alone. We must prevent that.'

'You are right,' said Sulkowski coolly, 'but we must prove that he is guilty.'

'Naturally,' said BrÜhl, going towards the door.

'Au revoir!'

Yes, at the shooting,' said BrÜhl. 'The Prince, needs some distraction, and we must furnish it--He is passionately fond of shooting--It is such an innocent amusement.'

BrÜhl hastened, for it was time to go to the park where targets were placed, and the court was going there. They did not wish to shoot in the castle grounds in order to preserve the appearance of mourning.

In the park, situated near Dresden, the court often found enjoyment. Beautiful avenues of linden trees, enormous beech trees and oaks, a great number of statues, and a lake, made that spot one of the most charming round Dresden. It was situated only about half an hour from the capital. The park in which there was an amphitheatre was surrounded by a densely wooded forest. The scent of freshly opened buds and the quiet made the place charming.

The targets were placed in the amphitheatre. Father Guarini, not satisfied with the preparations made by the huntsmen, and knowing Frederick's character, wanted to prepare some surprise for him and was busy all the morning. Not far from the amphitheatre a shanty was erected, at which a guard was placed with orders not to allow anybody in, for it contained Father Guarini's secret. Three times the Jesuit came with some boxes, and every time he, and several men who helped him, remained there quite a long time. The Jesuit's face beamed with satisfaction when he came for the last time. Evidently he had got everything ready, for, when the rumbling of carriages were heard, the Jesuit putting his hands behind his back, walked quietly down the avenue leading to the amphitheatre. The royal carriages, preceded by the runners, with lackeys in front and rear, cavaliers on horseback, and beautiful ladies, arrived one after another. The Prince was accompanied by his consort who never would leave him, especially when there were ladies in the party. The Countess Kolowrath with her daughter, ladies-in-waiting, chamberlains, pages, followed the Prince. Sulkowski and BrÜhl in elegant hunting costumes walked beside him.

The rifles were ready, the huntsmen in charge and the pages were to hand them. As Frederick got ready to shoot, Father Guarini appeared in the right-hand alley. He pretended to be very much surprised to see the court: he approached the Prince humbly, and exclaimed:

'Ah! Your Highness, what do I see? Shooting at the target--what a splendid amusement!'

'Is it not?' said Frederick laughing, 'but you shoot only at souls.'

'And not very fortunately either--I miss very often,' rejoined the Jesuit sighing. 'Here the competition will be splendid. But where are the prizes.'

'What prizes?' the Prince asked, a little surprised.

'Your Highness must pardon me,' answered Guarini, 'but to put it plainly, those who prove the best marksmen ought to get some souvenir for their skill.'

'I had not thought of that,' the Prince replied, looking round as if searching for someone.

'If it is permitted me,' said Guarini bowing, 'I will offer five prizes. I cannot give much, for I am poor, but for the amusement of my beloved lord, I deposit my modest gift at his feet.'

The Prince's eyes brightened.

'What? What?' he asked.

'It is my secret!' said the Padre, 'I cannot disclose it until the right time.'

He pointed to the shanty.

'My prizes are there. There are five of them for the five best shots.'

It looked like some funny joke, for Father Guarini was always most anxious to amuse the Prince; very often his jokes were not very new or very elegant, but he always succeeded in making Frederick laugh.

'You make me anxious to see your prizes,' said Frederick.

'The only condition I would make, is that your Highness does not compete. There is no doubt that nobody here shoots better, but I have not prepared a prize worthy of your royal hand. Consequently--'

The eloquence in his eyes ended the sentence.

Frederick began to shoot first. Being used to a rifle since he was a mere boy, it was true that very few people could compete with him, and directly he took hold of a rifle he became so absorbed in the sport that he paid no attention to anything else.

The targets were so arranged that if the ball struck the centre, a white and green--Saxon colours--little flag sprang out: a yellow and black flag--colours of Dresden--marked the first circle beyond the centre; and a black flag marked the further circles.

When Frederick began to shoot and hit the centre with one ball after another, he was applauded by the whole court. After having shot a great many times, the others shot by turns: Sulkowski, BrÜhl, the envoys of foreign courts, the old General Bandissin, the Count Wackerbarth-Salmour, the Count Los, the Baron Shonberg, the Count Gersdorf and the rest. Every shot was marked. The Prince seemed to wait impatiently for the distribution of Father Guarini's prizes.

It happened that after counting all the marks, old Bandissin won the first prize. The Prince rose from his chair, gazing after Guarini, who told a lackey to bring out the first prize from the shanty.

Curiosity was at its height. The door opened, and two lackeys in court livery--yellow tail coats with blue facings--brought out a large basket covered with a white cloth.

'General,' Guarini said seriously, 'it is not my fault that you do not receive a prize more suitable to your age, but it so pleased the Fates, and nobody can avoid his destiny.'

They opened the basket and took from it an enormous goose, but not in its natural attire. A clever artist had made a very amusing thing of it. On its wings a silk dress, such as was then worn by fashionable ladies, had been put; on its feet there were slippers, while its head was ornamented with a wig and feathers.

The apparition of the frightened bird was received with a burst of laughter, as it began to scream and wanted to fly away; but its wings were entangled in the dress, its feet in the shoes; so it opened its beak as if crying for help and rolled among the spectators.

The Prince laughed till the tears came; all laughed, even the stern Princess.

'The second prize!' cried Frederick.

'Your Majesty,' said Guarini, 'The first prize is called Angelo o l'amorosal.'

'Who takes the second prize?' the Prince asked.

The second prize was won by Sulkowski, who was disgusted with Guarini's joke.

The second basket was brought out--and from it jumped a monkey dressed as a clown; the monkey was not less frightened than the goose, but notwithstanding the clothing, it began to run away and having reached the first tree climbed up it.

The Prince seized a rifle and fired: the monkey screaming, hanging bleeding on the branch, fell to the ground.

The third prize, destined for BrÜhl, was an enormous hare, dressed as Crispino. The Prince killed the hare also. He was much excited and happy; his hands trembled, his eyes shone, he laughed.

The fourth prize was a rabbit dressed as Scaramuzzia. It was also killed by the Prince.

The last prize was a very amusing one, and it was spared: it was an enormous turkey clad as Dottore, with a tail coat, wig, waistcoat and everything that belonged to its official costume. Its comical gravity saved its life.

They all laughed heartily.

The Prince thanked Guarini and made him a longer speech than usual. He assured the Jesuit that not only would he never forget that excellent farce, but that he should order it to be repeated.

They shot till dark: the evening was quiet and warm, the air sweetly scented and the landscape charming; nobody wished to return to town; the court dispersed, forming small groups.

It happened that the Chamberlain Watzdorf stood by the side of the beautiful Frances Kolowrath. Her mother noticed it and tried to separate them, but she did not succeed. Not wishing to draw more attention to them than was proper, she was obliged to leave them alone.

Watzdorf did not neglect to take advantage of his opportunity. Usually ironical, that evening he was sad and depressed. As there was nobody near them he could speak to the girl.

'I am grateful to fate,' said he, 'for the opportunity it gives me of seeing you to-day: and this happens very seldom. The opportunity is the more precious to me, as I see you for the last time.'

'What do you mean? Why for the last time?' asked the girl with uneasiness.

'I feel that over me hangs the vengeance of that minister-page. They dog my footsteps, they have bribed my servants, for many of my papers are missing. They must have taken them secretly, and if that is so, I am lost.'

'Run away!' cried the girl passionately. 'I beseech you by our love, run away. Nobody watches you just now, take the best horse, and in a couple of hours you will be in Bohemia.'

'Yes, and to-morrow the Austrians would catch me.'

'Then flee to Prussia, to Holland, to France,' said the girl wildly.

'I have no means,' answered Watzdorf, 'and what is worse the charm of life is lost to me. There is no happiness for me. Frances--do not forget me--and avenge me. You will become that man's wife, be his executioner--'

Watzdorf looked into her eyes; they shone with love.

'Should you not see me to-morrow at the court, it will mean that I am lost,' he continued. 'I have a presentiment of which I cannot get rid.'

'But what reasons have you to suspect this?'

'An hour ago I found everything upside down in my room; the lackey has disappeared. Farewell,' he said with a voice full of emotion. 'You will live, I shall die between four gloomy walls. Frances, I beseech you, drop a handkerchief for a souvenir. I shall carry it on my heart; looking at it my grief will be less painful.'

The girl dropped the handkerchief: Watzdorf stooped, picked it up, and hid it in his bosom.

'Thank you,' said he. 'One moment more, and I shall not see your eyes again. Farewell, Frances, addio, my sweetest!'

The girl's mother came up at that moment, and, taking advantage of the general confusion, she pulled her daughter away almost by force. Watzdorf withdrew. At a distance of a few steps from him, Sulkowski encountered BrÜhl, while Guarini entertained the Prince.

'One word--' said BrÜhl, 'my suppositions were right.'

'What suppositions?' the Count asked indifferently.

'I ordered Watzdorf's apartments to be searched and they found fifty copies of the medal and a letter from the manufacturer, who tried to justify himself because he could not execute a better facsimile of the drawing sent him. It is absolute proof that he is guilty.'

Sulkowski grew pale.

BrÜhl slipped a paper into his hand.

'Take this: I do not wish to do anything on my own responsibility; do what you please, but if you don't put Watzdorf in KÖnigstein, who knows if one of us will not take his place there? Impudence can do much--Count, do what you please, but I wash my hands of it.--I would not condescend to a search to avenge myself--but the Prince is attacked--It's crimen lÆsae majestatis and for that death is the penalty.'

Having said this BrÜhl stepped aside quickly; his face assumed its usual sweet smile. He perceived the Countess Moszynski and he turned towards her, bowing in a most ceremonious and respectful way.

Frances Kolowrath followed her mother; she was silent and proud; she gazed several times after Watzdorf and paid not the slightest attention to what was going on around her.

While she was so deeply thoughtful BrÜhl came to her, bowed respectfully and smiled sweetly. The proud girl's eyes shone; she drew herself up and looked at the minister contemptuously.

'Don't you think,' BrÜhl said, 'that we succeeded in amusing the Prince?'

'Yes, and you proved a good marksman,' answered the girl. 'I don't doubt that you could shoot just as well at people--'

BrÜhl looked sharply at her.

'I am not very skilful,' he said coolly, 'but if I were obliged to defend His Majesty, I don't doubt I should shoot well. I noticed that you enjoyed your conversation with the Chamberlain Watzdorf.'

'Yes,' said the girl, 'Watzdorf is very witty, he shoots with words as you do with balls.'

'That is a very dangerous weapon. If one does not know how to handle it,' said BrÜhl, 'one might shoot oneself.'

The girl's mother interrupted this unpleasant conversation, Frances' look closed it. She wished to intercede with BrÜhl, but pride closed her mouth: besides she was not certain that Watzdorf did not exaggerate his peril.

The Princess had already left with her ladies in waiting, the Prince still remained. Sulkowski tried to come near him, and the Prince expressing his desire to walk some little distance, the favourite seized the opportunity and walked at his side. BrÜhl accompanied the Countess Kolowrath.

Sulkowski did not wish to postpone the affair, for he was afraid that Watzdorf might fly if it were delayed.

'It's a very unpleasant duty,' said Sulkowski, 'to be obliged to spoil your majesty's humour after such pleasant amusement.'

Having listened to this, Frederick became gloomy, and looked askance at his minister, who continued:

'The matter is pressing; BrÜhl and I and even your Majesty are exposed to the ridicule of the whole of Europe: I did not speak before, wishing to spare your Majesty's feelings.--In Holland an abominable medal has been struck--'

Frederick stopped; his face grew as pale as his father's used to do when extremely angry, and he lost control of himself.

'I did not wish to mention it, until we had found the culprit,' Sulkowski wound up. 'I and BrÜhl would forgive the offence to ourselves, but we cannot forgive the insult to your Majesty.'

'But who? Who?' asked Frederick.

'The man whose whole family including himself, owes everything to your Majesty's father. It is unheard of gratitude and daring--'

'Who? Who?' exclaimed Frederick,

'The Chamberlain Watzdorf.'

'Have you proofs?'

'I have a letter found in his rooms and several medals.'

'I don't wish to see them,' the Prince said extending his arm, 'nor him either; away, away--'

'Shall we let him go unpunished?' Sulkowski asked. 'It cannot be. He will carry his calumnies and spread them in other countries.'

'The Chamberlain Watzdorf? Watzdorf junior?' repeated Frederick. 'But what do you propose?' Saying this he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

'KÖnigstein,' said Sulkowski shortly.

There was a moment of silence. The Prince walked slowly, with bowed head. It was the first offence that he was obliged to punish.

'Where is BrÜhl?' he asked.

'BrÜhl left it to me,' answered the Count.

'Watzdorf! KÖnigstein!' repeated Frederick sighing. Then stopping he turned to Sulkowski and said:--I don't wish to hear any more about it; do what you please.'

Sulkowski turned to Guarini, who walked behind them, and signed to him to approach, for he was the best man to amuse the Prince. The Padre ran as quickly as he could, guessing that he was needed.

'I am in despair!' cried he, 'my goose Angelo o l'amorosal is lost, flew away, seeing that Bandissin did not care for it; I am sure it will commit suicide in the forest. I rushed after it and was unfortunate to take three ladies for my goose; they will never forgive me this.'

The Prince's gloomy face brightened up; his white teeth appeared from beneath tightened lips. He looked at the Jesuit as if wishing to find the necessary cheeriness in the bright smiling face, remembering the Italian puleinello.

Guarini having guessed that something must have saddened the good lord, did his best to counteract its bad influence.

And in proportion as the Italian's jokes came out, the Prince seemed to forget all else and smiled. But the merry Father was obliged to renew his efforts to disperse the returning cloud, and he did not stop his joking until he heard the loud, hearty laughter, which announced that the Prince had forgotten about the sorrows of this world.

The next day the Chamberlain Watzdorf disappeared; he was the first victim of that reign. A few days later they began to whisper that Watzdorf had been escorted to KÖnigstein. The Prince never mentioned his name; Sulkowski and BrÜhl did not wish to know anything about the affair.

Fear fell on the court and on the secret enemies of the two ministers.

In The Historical Mercury, a newspaper published in Paris, there appeared the following paragraph:

'Those who were familiar with the playful and satirical mind of that young nobleman, who was mixed up in certain affairs after the death of Augustus the Strong, and who showed his cutting wit, will not be astonished at the sad lot which befel him.'

Watzdorf never again appeared in this world. He died in KÖnigstein after fourteen years of seclusion, killed by longing and solitude.