It would be difficult to guess whether she believed in the Queen's ignorance about the intrigues of the court. But accustomed to trust her husband, she calmed herself and went home.
Ludovici appeared late in the evening but his manner indicated nothing good. He came to tell the Count that he found insuperable difficulties in finding documents, that the officials did not want to obey him, and that consequently it was impossible to have the papers ready for the next day.
[CHAPTER XIX]
There are people like Sulkowski, who do not wish, to see or to believe when there is danger. Neither what his wife told him, about her very cool reception by the Queen, nor what Ludovici communicated to him, took one iota from the assurance the Count had in himself or from his faith in the future.
It seemed to him that the King was so fond of him, that he could not get along without him, and he was perfectly confident. His wife, a timid and modest lady, well knowing the life of the court and the value of that which is called the King's favour, was very much afraid although she did not show it. She was aware that disgrace in Saxony, especially when it was trumped up by one's antagonists, did not end in a simple dismissal and banishment. It was usually followed by the confiscation of the estates and very often by imprisonment for life without trial. Sulkowski, in disgrace, could be threatening to his enemies through his connections with the courts of France, Austria, and Prussia; what then could be more natural than to imprison him for safety?
The Countess spent the night in fear, hiding her tears from her husband, for she did not wish to discourage him.
Her husband, on the contrary, was in high spirits, repeating to his wife what he had said to the King, and what impression it made on him. He flattered himself, that he had broken the snares which his foes had set for him; that everything would be as it was before, that he would overthrow the whole of that clique, and so surround the Queen, as to render her harmless for the future.
The next morning, the fifth of February, the Count was up very early, dressed, and, according to his old habit, went to the castle.
Had he possessed more penetration and less confidence in himself, he would easily have noticed that everyone in the court, on perceiving him, became grave; some of the courtiers drew aside and those, who could not avoid meeting him, were very cold and spoke but little. Sulkowski being privileged to see the King at any time he liked, went straight to his room, but the Baron von Lowendhal barred his way and told him very politely, that the King being very busy had given orders that no one was to be admitted, without any exception.
'But this order cannot apply to me,' said Sulkowski smiling.