'He only sharpens my pencils,' said the Queen.
'Beautiful head! I shall hang it in my room if you will make me a present of it,' and he smiled.
As the dinner hour had not yet arrived, the King bowed, kissed the Queen's hand and went to his apartment; on his way he nodded to the artist to go and help the Queen with her artistic effort.
The King's face beamed with satisfaction now that he had got rid of his trouble. To-day he was altogether a different man from yesterday; his forehead was serene, there was a smile on his lips, he breathed more freely and could think of something else. He cared less for Sulkowski than for his disturbed peace and few unpleasant days. He was ready to sacrifice a man in order to get rid as soon as possible of any difficulty in his own life.
Brühl was waiting in the King's apartment. The King, having glanced at him, laughed and said:
'The affair is finished: after dinner shooting at a target, in the evening a concert, to-morrow an opera.'
He drew near the minister and added:
'Nobody must mention his name; all is over.'
He thought for a moment.
'Employ anybody you wish, provided I do not know anything more about the affair.'