During the hour of her triumph, she had several times encountered Flemming's ironical glances, in which there was an expression of menace, which she alone could understand. Those looks stung her to the heart and made her sad.
In vain she tried to brighten her gloomy thoughts, by recalling all the marks of favour shown her by the King; she could not succeed, and even in the hour of her triumphs, she was haunted by the presentiment of a miserable future.
She did not expect to see the King that day, for the next morning he set out for Berlin.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps was heard coming along the corridor that connected the staircase with the gallery leading to the castle. It could be no one but Augustus, and Cosel sprang to her feet and hastened to the mirror, to assure herself that her hair and dress were in proper order.
Her first glance told Cosel that Augustus was in a state in which she had but seldom seen him.
The leave-taking of his nephew, whom the courtiers had respectfully carried to his bed, had been celebrated with bumper toasts. The King, although accustomed to these feasts, had not come out victorious. It was true that he was able to walk with the assistance of his chamberlain, but that minister only accompanied him to the door, and as soon as he was in Cosel's room he threw himself immediately on the sofa. His face was crimson, his eyes misty, and his speech indistinct.
"Anna," said he, "I wished to bid you goodbye. Well, to-day you were triumphant, as women very seldom can be. At least you will thank me for it."
Cosel turned towards him--she was sad.
"Alas! my lord," she replied, "I have not sufficient words to express my gratitude. But had you seen the jealous glances cast at me, you would understand why I have returned sad."
Augustus smiled.