'Your advice is most precious,' exclaimed Brühl. 'I am indeed fortunate to have such an adviser.'
The Count seemed flattered at the exclamation, he smiled proudly, pleased at the acknowledgment of his own powers of which he was fully persuaded.
'Don't be afraid, Brühl,' he said. 'Go forward boldly and count on me.'
Those words seemed to arouse Brühl's enthusiasm, he clasped his hands as though in prayer, and his face was radiant; then he extended a hand to Sulkowski in token of his gratitude. The Count magnanimously took it with the condescending air of a benefactor.
At that moment the trumpet resounded from the castle; the sound must have meant something to the young favourite, for signing to his friend that he must hasten, he ran towards the castle.
Brühl remained alone, hesitating as to what he should do with himself. The King had granted him leave for the evening, consequently he was entirely free. Supper had begun beneath the tents. At first he had intended to go there and enjoy himself with the others, but after looking on for a moment, he turned into a side path, and walked slowly and thoughtfully to the forest. Probably he wished to be alone with his thoughts, although his youthful eyes were not suggestive of deep speculation. It might be nearer truth to think that in a court full of love intrigues, he too had some love affair; but on his serene face no trace of such trouble could be detected. Brühl did not sigh, his look was cold and calm, he frowned, and appeared rather to be calculating something, than struggling against a particular sentiment.
He passed tents, horses, and packs of hounds; he passed the fires, built up by the people assembled for the hunt, who were eating the black bread they had brought with them in their bags, whilst venison was roasting for the nobles. The great majority of these were Slavs, called Wends, and they chatted quietly together in a tongue incomprehensible to the Germans. Several huntsmen kept guard over them, and whilst supper was prepared for the hounds, no one took the least trouble to ask these people if they had had anything to eat. Their supper of bread and water was soon finished, and they lay down on the grass to rest, that they might be in readiness for the work of the morrow.
Scarcely glancing at them, Brühl walked quietly forward. It was a lovely evening, peaceful and bright, and had it not been for the yellow leaves falling from the beech-trees, one might have thought it was summer.
Beyond the grove in which they were encamped all was still; the noise scarcely penetrated thither; trees concealed the castle; one could have imagined oneself far from the haunts of man.
Arrived here Brühl raised his head, and breathed more freely; his face assumed a different expression; it lost its childish charm, and an ironical smile flitted across it. He thought he was alone, and was greatly surprised, almost frightened, at seeing two men lying beneath an enormous beech-tree. He retreated, and looked at them attentively. Those two men, lying beneath a tree not far from the King's camp, appeared to him suspicious characters. Beside them lay their travelling bags and sticks.