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Sunset, which was welcome to my company, since it removed the haze, which they regarded with superstitious dread, found us still plodding through a country of low ridges and shallow valleys, both clothed in oak-woods. Its short brightness died away, and with it my last hope of surprising Bruhl before I slept.
I knew how M. de Rosny dealt with him, and followed the pattern as far as I could. 'Maignan! I said curtly, 'I have taken a lodging for to-night elsewhere. Then I am gone you will call out your men and watch this door. If anyone tries to force an entrance you will do your duty. 'You may consider it done, he replied. 'Even if the person be M. de Bruhl here, I continued. 'Precisely.
M. de Bruhl's men are six or seven, the Provost has eight or nine; but the former are the wilder blades, and if M. de Bruhl find your Majesty in my lodging, and infer his own defeat, he will be capable of any desperate stroke. Your person would hardly be safe in his company through the streets.
He stared at me for a moment at that, and then he turned slowly away and began to go up; while I looked after him, gradually thinking out the clue to his conduct. Could it be that it was not mademoiselle attracted him, but Madame de Bruhl? And with that hint I understood it all. I saw in a moment; the conclusion to which he had come on hearing of the presence of madame in my room.
Beethoven's correspondence with Count Brühl of the Berlin Theatre in the matter of an opera for that city, led him, owing to the apathy of the Vienna public at this time toward his works, to offer the new Symphony and the Mass for a first hearing in Berlin. At this time, and for some years previously, Rossini's music had captured the Vienna public so completely that no other was desired.
Here we had news of the party before us, and henceforth had little doubt that Bruhl was making for the Limousin; a district in which he might rest secure under the protection of Turenne, and safely defy alike the King of France and the King of Navarre.
Count Mattzahn's prophecy came true. The King of Prussia came to Dresden, and there, as in every other part of Saxony, found no resistance. Fear and terror had gone before him, disarming all opposition. The king and prince-elector were not accustomed to have a will of their own; and Count Bruhl, the favorite of fortune, showed himself weak and helpless in the hour of adversity.
Polish Majesty, "with 500 of suite," had driven instantly for Warsaw; post-horses most politely furnished him, and all the Prussian posts and soldiers well kept out of his road, road chosen for him to that end. Poor soul, he never came back. Nor did Bruhl return, except broken by that event, and to die in few months after.
"Insulting; how, your Excellency?" asks Rudenskjold, privately a friend of Friedrich. Bruhl explains, with voice quivering, those cuts in the Friedrich manifesto of August last, and other griefs suffered; the two Swedes soothing him with what oil they have ready.
Bruhl and Polish Majesty's Army, still only about 18,000, have their apprehensions of such visit: but what can they do? The Saxon Army draws out into Camp, at sight of this mysterious marching; strong Camp "in the angle of Elbe and Mulde Rivers;" then draws in again; being too weak for use.
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