A strange feeling was aroused in him at the sight of the people, many of whom he recognised, of passing carriages, of all that merry carnival movement. Smaller officials passed him without recognition of the man wrapped in the mantle; before whom, not long since, they almost kneeled. His situation seemed to him like a dream, the danger a nightmare. He was angry that he could have believed it. He measured the position he occupied with the menace of downfall, and could not imagine it possible.
Under the influence of these thoughts he went more boldly. At about the distance of a furlong, he noticed several dark figures walking about and apparently awaiting someone. Those figures, hiding stealthily in corners, were the best proof that the house was watched. Sulkowski entered a side street, uncertain what to do. At that moment he recollected a man whom he could trust. It was Father Vogler, a Jesuit, the King's former confessor, an old man, who apparently left the court of his own will, giving way to Father Guarini.
He lived quietly, seldom showing himself in the court, and entirely engrossed in his books. Formerly the King's favourite, now almost forgotten, for he did not know how to amuse him. Father Vogler was a silent retiring man. He was Sulkowski's chaplain and confessor and had gained his esteem. Although Vogler apparently lived far from the intrigues of the court, even Guarini seemed to fear him and was very respectful towards him. Vogler did not hide his dislike of Brühl and although he said little, one could see that he disliked the court and everything that was going on there. Sulkowski remembered that Vogler had warned him before his departure that he should not stay away long, that he should not be too confident of the King's favour, and should not trust those who were apparently his best friends.
If anyone was well informed it was certainly Vogler. The Count, being obliged to steal through the old market and a much populated street leading to the castle in which the Jesuit lived, wrapped the cloak very carefully around him and walked in the shadow of the houses in order that he might not be recognised. Carriages were going towards the castle and he recognised Brühl's post-chaise and smiled bitterly. The street scene with Erell led by on a donkey recurred to his mind, and it seemed to him that he had met with a similar fate to that of the editor.
The house, in which Vogler lived, belonged to the castle, and the entrance to it was from a small dark street. He knew that Vogler occupied the second floor. He passed the dark stairs, and rang the bell at the door which he found with difficulty in the darkness.
He waited long. A small boy with a candle in his hand opened the door.
'Is Father Vogler at home?'
The boy looked timidly at the stranger and hesitated as to what to answer.
'I wish to see Father Vogler on urgent business,' he said.
The boy left the door open and disappeared into the room. He returned shortly and showed the Count into a small room full of books and bookshelves, and a large table on which was an abundant supply of papers. A reading lamp was burning. From an old chair, upholstered with leather, rose a tall, thin, bent, bald-headed man. He seemed to be surprised at such a late call and turned his feeble eye on the visitor, whose face was still half covered with the mantle. Only when the boy closed the door, did Sulkowski uncover his face and head and come near Father Vogler, who seizing him by the hand cried out with astonishment.