'You never intrude,' said the host coolly and distinctly. 'The people will not crowd my house any more now. Pray, come in. In a Protestant country one enters a clergyman's house secretly, as the first Christians did into the catacombs. Glory to those who pass our threshold.'
So saying he entered with Brühl into a large, modestly furnished room. Here were two young men, and it seemed to Brühl that he knew the taller of the two. He could not however remember where he had seen him. The tall man also looked attentively at Brühl, and approaching him, said:
'If I am not mistaken, this is the second time we have met. I am indebted to your kindness that I did not fall into the hands of the King's servants and was not treated as a vagabond.'
'Count Zinzendorf--'
'Brother in Christ,' answered the youth, 'and were you Catholic, Aryan, Wicklyffite or of any denomination, I should always greet you as a brother in Christ.'
The host, whose face was severe and to whom bushy, contracted eyebrows gave a still more gloomy expression groaned.
'Count, let your dreams alone; the chaff must be separated from the grain, although they both grow on one stem.'
Brühl was silent.
'What news from the court?' asked the host. 'There does not seem to be any change; prayers in the morning, opera in the evening. But pray be seated.'
They all sat. Zinzendorf looked at Brühl piercingly, as though wishing to penetrate into his soul, but those windows, Brühl's beautiful eyes, through which he hoped to look within him, avoided meeting his.