Wehlen had received the strictest orders to watch her carefully, a responsibility which in those days might cost him his own life. Those who wrote the instructions, it is true, had recommended politeness towards the woman; but the watchfulness must be so strict as to destroy all hope of flight. At first glance such a thing as flight seemed impossible. The castle was surrounded by high walls; the St. John's tower was strong, and it had been lighted by so many windows that the sentries walking beneath them could see what the prisoner was doing. Two courtyards had to be crossed before the tower could be reached.
At the gateway were sentries; the castle was on a high mount dominating the country, every one approaching it could be seen.
There was nobody except the commandant, two officers, a handful of soldiers, and the Countess's servants in the castle. Nobody could enter it without the commandant's special permission, and the gates were always shut.
Old Von Wehlen, who had never seen the Countess, and concluded that the King did not care for her because she was old, was amazed when he set eyes on her for the first time. Cosel was then thirty-six years of age, and God had granted her eternal beauty and strength. Her face bore no traces of suffering, and perhaps she was never more charming than then. The brightness of her eyes, the freshness of her complexion, her majestic figure, and statuesque shape, made those who looked at her wonder. In cynical disdain, and as if sneering at her present position, Cosel assumed the manners and speech of a queen. She gave her orders, and in her voice there was pride in proportion to her misfortune.
The days were long, weary and monotonous. Cosel filled them with memories and sometimes with hope. She cursed Augustus' cruelty, but she could not understand how the one who had loved her so tenderly could become such a terrible executioner.
The letters that she wrote became by habit a necessity. By the silence she knew that it was in vain, but at the same time she felt better when she had committed her thoughts to paper, which could be only scorn for other people.
When they had packed up her things in Nossen, some one had picked up the old Bible, and the Countess was constantly reading its pages, in which so many sorrows are expressed. Those stray leaves aroused in her the desire to read the whole book. She sent to the commandant to buy a Bible for her. He asked permission from Dresden; they ordered her desire to be gratified; and from that time the Bible was constantly on her table. In reading it she found, if not consolation, at least forgetfulness. From it she learned that for thousands of years life had been constant torture.
Thus she found the spring! The spring, which awakes everything to life, was only going to prolong her sufferings. The swallows came to the old nests to repair them again; the trees began to open their buds towards the sun. Over the earth there blew a warm air, mingled with the scent of flowers. Even around the castle some life appeared; the ploughmen went freely to the fields--she alone could not move. Cosel used to stay at the window for hours deep in thought, and did not notice that a soldier, astonished at her beauty, would often look at her, and ask himself what this angel-like woman could have done to merit imprisonment. Old Von Wehlen, smoking his pipe on the ramparts, looked also at her windows, and his thoughts were bitter; his heart heaved, for he felt that he loved his lord Friederich Augustus less.
He pitied her. The space in which she could walk consisted of a small room in the tower, which the sun could not warm.
At the foot of the St. John's tower there was a piece of land, surrounded by the wall of the fortress--enough space for a comfortable grave. In that corner there grew wormwood, wild thyme and wild pinks. Wehlen thought it could be turned into a little garden; but to make the garden, permission would be necessary, for it would make it pleasanter, and to show pity for the rebellious woman would mean to make her bolder. Consequently he made a garden for himself, thinking that the Countess would at least look on the flowers.