That day the afternoon siesta had just begun; the Prince was smoking a second pipe, when Sulkowski, noticing something through the window, hesitated a moment and then went towards the door. The Prince's eyes followed him.
'Sulkowski!' he said softly.
'I return at once,' answered the Count, opening the door and disappearing through it. In the anteroom two pages and some servants were waiting.
'Don't let anybody in without my special permission,' said Sulkowski.
All heads bowed.
Sulkowski went out, rushed down the stairs, and stopped in the doorway petrified.
'Brühl? You here?'
Wrapped in a fur cloak covered with snow, cold, tired, pale and troubled, there stood the favourite of Augustus II. In the courtyard one might have seen a carriage with two tired horses; the postillions had already dismounted and were also so tired that they could hardly keep on their feet.
Brühl did not answer: he made him understand by his look that he wished to enter and to rest. This sudden arrival had something so mysterious about it, that Sulkowski, being very much troubled about it, led the way to a room situated on the ground floor. The servants recognised Brühl, and pressed forward, but he dismissed them with a wave of the hand and entered the room with Sulkowski. Brühl quickly divested himself of his furs. The Count stood waiting.
'For Heaven's sake, Brühl, what news do you bring?'