The door of her house was always shut; nobody visited her; a servant obtained her meals from a restaurant. Only from time to time a young, elegantly dressed man knocked at the door. He went in and stayed for a few moments; then he returned, sad. The students called him the lover of the beautiful unknown, although he did not look like it.
The beautiful mysterious lady--for every one believed her to be a lady--was the sole topic of conversation in Halle at that time.
The landlord and his wife, questioned by their friends, even the bribed servant, would not give a word of information about her. When questioned, they threw a frightened look round, and muttered something about not knowing anything.
Besides the curious, from time to time a soldier walked past the house, looking in at the windows; then a man, whose mien indicated that he had been a soldier.
That beautiful unknown lady was the Countess Cosel, but how terribly changed!
The latest incident had broken the spirit of the woman, filled her soul with fear, and driven away all hope. She was now sad and in despair, and continually crying. The vengeance that persecuted her was so implacable, that now she expected everything--even death.
In Berlin she was free--she could escape; in Halle she was a prisoner. Zaklika, who had accompanied her here, told her the next day that all the doors of the house were watched. She was still free, but she could not take a step. She wanted to go to church on Sunday, but, seeing that she was watched, she returned home. The landlord and his wife were very civil, but could not be trusted. The burgher had fox-like eyes, and his wife was pale and did not dare to speak a word.
Zaklika tried to make friends with them; they ran from him as from the pestilence.
A few days later the Chamberlain Von Sinen was announced. He came in sad, modest, and confused, as if he did not know what to say.
"With what do you come?" asked Cosel, "for I know that you do not come in sympathy, but by command."