Part 39 (1/2)

”Cosel! but she does not exist now.”

”They are still afraid of her.”

”When Teschen fell into disgrace, n.o.body thought of her any more, but Cosel still rules, for they s.h.i.+ver at the mere mention of her name.”

The others laughed.

An hour later a carriage rolled towards the Prussian frontier. Cosel was thinking of her last adventures, while Zaklika, sitting beside the driver, listened to hear if they were being pursued; but they were looking for Cosel in Dresden and Pillnitz.

CHAPTER XIX.

At the beginning of the eighteenth century Berlin was a small city. It had only been recently built, and its princ.i.p.al characteristic was cloister-like order and tranquility. It was full of soldiers.

Everything was prescribed, the business transactions as well as the pleasures. No other city could be more melancholy, after gay Dresden, than was Berlin. In the larger streets there were rows of houses, built there by order. The city was quiet and empty, although it already had five districts and large poor suburbs. Here and there stood palaces built in a pretentious but tasteless style. In Spandau shone the Queen's Montbijou; in Stralause, the King's Belvidere.

Here everything was new, like the state itself: the oldest buildings were thirty years old. A few statues were erected in this desert; a couple of large squares were waiting for animation.

One bridge had been built across the Spree--it was called ”New Bridge,”

and instead of Henry IV., they put on it the Elector Friedrich Wilhelm.

They began to build the King's castle, and its architect, Schluter, ornamented it with so many garlands, that its walls could not be seen beneath them.

Berlin had then the beginnings of a great city; it wanted only life and people. A theatre, library, and museum were hurriedly built, and filled as they could with what they could. In the meantime they did not spend their gold in manufacturing porcelain; they purchased soldiers instead, paying their weight in gold for them. And, in fact, the most interesting thing in Berlin was the army--drilled like a machine, regular as a watch, moving like one man.

Here one could see the battalion of the biggest and tallest grenadiers--the most famous in the world--composed of men of every nationality, and an example of the perfection that the mechanics of militarism can reach. Those big grenadiers were well paid, although the strictest economy was applied to other things.

Berlin, after Dresden, looked like a monastery after a theatre. When Cosel's carriage entered the streets of the capital, and the beautiful Countess glanced at those dusty and empty thoroughfares, her heart was ready to break; but she expected to find peace here: here she wanted to wait for the change of her lot.

A servant sent ahead had already rented a house, which, after the palaces she was used to, appeared poor to her, although it was only cold and uninhabited.

The next day Zaklika arranged it as comfortably as he could, while Cosel sat in a corner and dreamed of her brilliant past.

But in Berlin n.o.body could remain incognito. The third day Zaklika announced to her the visit of Marshal Wartesleben, the governor of Berlin; and another marshal, Natymer, commandant of the gendarmes, often pa.s.sed through the street and looked at the house.

It was known in high circles that the dweller in that house was the Countess Cosel, and her arrival was agreeable, for they knew also that a considerable amount of money came for her to the banker Liebmann.

Notwithstanding the good relations existing between Dresden and Berlin, Cosel would not expect still to be persecuted here. Only here, in that silent solitude, amid the city that slept at dusk, did her misfortune appear in its full size.

Her heart was filled with bitterness. She spent the days sitting motionless, looking at the wall and thinking about her past.

She was asking herself whether it was possible that one could forget true love, and pay for happy moments with ingrat.i.tude. The King's character seemed to be a monstrous conundrum. She recollected his tenderness, the proofs of his attachment to her, his oaths--and she could not understand how he could change.

She had doubts about the man, who seemed to her to be a wild animal.

She could not understand how he could go back on the past, and contradict his former conduct towards her. She asked herself whether she had done anything so bad that she might look upon her present downfall as a penance for her sins.

A few days later Zaklika entered her room, although she had not called him. Cosel looked at his sad face, and asked,--

”Some bad news?”