"Then go on," said the King, "and I?"
"You?"
Cosel's voice failed her for a moment, then she proceeded,--
"If you are not an executioner, then you are a plaything in the hands of your executioners."
"Cosel!" cried Augustus, seizing her hand.
"No, no!" she cried, pulling away her hand and laughing ironically behind the mask. "How could she be here and suffer to look at her funeral banquet? I have seen the woman whose name you have pronounced. There is nothing in common between her and me. Cosel is killed and buried by her wicked enemies, while I am alive."
The King listened gloomily. Suddenly Cosel drew near to him and whispered a few words into his ear, and, before Augustus could overcome his surprise, she had disappeared.
The King wanted to follow her, but she, protected by Zaklika, vanished in the crowd and hurried behind the booths. Here she turned her black mantle, which was lined with red, and then went back into the square from another side. She went straight to where she expected to meet the Countess Denhoff.
There were three booths opposite the town hall. In one of them, ornamented in the Neapolitan aqua-fresca style, was sitting the Countess Pociej; beside her stood Count Friesen with a guitar, the Countess Bielinska, disguised as a Venetian lady, and the Countess Denhoff in a Neapolitan costume, glittering with precious stones. She was a little woman, with a withered face and painted cheeks. Her booth was surrounded by young men, among whom the most conspicuous was the French ambassador, Besenval, who was making her laugh with his witticisms.
Cosel succeeded in getting a good view of her. The Countess Denhoff, under the influence of her intent look, shivered. Cosel stretched out her beautiful hand for a glass of the lemonade which Denhoff was selling.