'Ah!' exclaimed the clown. 'I guessed it was he by the hatred I felt towards him. But are you sure it was he?'
'I? Who hate him more than you, Count? I would recognise him even in hell.'
The clown suddenly darted forward, for he caught sight of the queen. The bandit, thankful, wandered about without aim. The guests grew more and more animated and those who were searching for each other could hardly move among the dense crowd. Laughter and chatting were louder than the music. Brühl directed his steps towards the apartment where the Princess was receiving the people. A monk seized his hand.
'If you did not wish to be recognised,' said he in Italian, 'you have not succeeded. Who would not recognise you, the Secretary of the Treasury?'
And he laughed.
'How could they recognise me?' asked Brühl.
'By your way of walking and by your beautiful dress.'
Brühl could not be sure that he recognised the monk; he disappeared in the crowd. He could have sworn it was Padre Guarini, but could he suppose that a Jesuit would be at a fancy dress ball?
A little disappointed, he found himself in a room lighted with alabaster lamps. Here a tall woman struck him with her fan. He recognised her and had no doubt that she knew also who he was.
'Brühl, accept my congratulations,' said she.