Brühl sat down on a chair as though not having heard the question, and leaned his sorrowful head on his hand. The favourite of the Prince, uneasy and impatient, stood before him, but pride prevented him from insisting.---He waited.
Brühl rose and sighed, looked around, wrung his hands and cried:
'My most gracious lord, the King, is dead!'
Over Sulkowski's face there passed like lightning an expression difficult to define--fear and joy mixed. He moved as though about to run, but stopped.
'Nobody come before me from Warsaw?' asked Brühl.
'Nobody.'
'Then the Prince knows nothing?'
'No, he does not even suspect anything,' said Sulkowski. 'The Prince must be notified at once,' continued the Count. 'But tell me, how was it? The King was in good health.'
Brühl sighed pitifully.
'On the sixteenth we came to Warsaw,' he said quietly. 'The road was most abominable: in some places snow drifts, in others mud. The King was tired and impatient, but catching sight of Warsaw, his face brightened up. We sent couriers ahead; the reception was splendid notwithstanding the wretched weather, the cannons boomed, the regiment of musketeers was splendid. The carriage stopped at the door of the Saxon Palace. As the King alighted he knocked his foot against the step, in the place which has troubled him continually since Weiss amputated his big toe. We noticed that he grew pale and leaned on his stick. Two pages ran to help him, and leaning on them he entered the palace, where the clergy, the lords and the ladies awaited him in large numbers. The King was obliged to sit down immediately and he told the Grand Marshal to shorten the reception as he did not feel well. As soon as he entered the chamber he ordered Dr Weiss to be called, complaining that he felt his foot hot and wet. They cut the boot; it was full of blood. Weiss grew pale: the foot was already swollen and discoloured; yet notwithstanding that--'