Through the King's munificence he was then given a house near the castle, and he soon turned it into a palace.
The evening before Shrove-Tuesday the newly created minister was sitting in his palace; he was thoughtful, and seemed to be awaiting the arrival of someone.
The room in which he sat might have been the boudoir of the most fastidious woman spoiled by the luxury of the court. In gilded frames shone mirrors; the walls were covered with lilac-coloured silk; on the mantle-pieces, tables, consols, there was a perfect museum of china and bronzes; the floor was covered with a soft carpet.
Brühl, with his legs stretched out, lying back in the recesses of a comfortable arm chair, his hand shining with splendid rings, seemed to be absorbed in thought and perplexities. From time to time, at the sound of an opening door, he would listen, but when nobody came, he returned to his thoughts and calculations.
Sometimes he would glance at the clock standing on the mantle-piece, for a man burdened with so many duties was obliged to count his time as he counted the money.
Notwithstanding work and emotions, his youthful face had not lost its freshness, his eyes shone brilliantly as ever; one felt that he was a man reserved for the future, who had more hopes than reminiscences.
At the further end of the house doors could be heard opening one after another. Brühl listened--steps approached. The steps were those of a man, though cautious and soft; the tread of one person.
'It's he,' whispered Brühl, and rose from the chair.
The knock at the door was gentle and full of respect, as though the fingers that rapped were swathed in cotton wool.
'Enter!' said Brühl softly, and the door opened noiselessly. At the door stood a man, such as one could only find at the court, for they are born for the court; though cradled in a stable, their coffin would certainly be found in a palace. He was tall, strong and flexible in every movement as a juggler.