The king retired at midnight; but the queen continued dancing till nearly three o'clock. The company soon followed; and the two last persons who remained in the ball-room were Brandt and the Countess von Holstein, his mistress. They were engaged in conversation, when Le Texier, the master of the revels, went up to Brandt, and said:
"Every one is gone, and I must order the lights to be put out."
"I will give directions to that effect," Count Brandt replied; "leave it to me."
A singular fatality seems to have attended the queen and her friends. In order to seize so large a body of men, many of whom it was unquestionable would resist if they were not taken by surprise and separately, it was necessary to attack them singly and alone. The Countess von Holstein had invited a select party of ladies and gentlemen, among whom were Struensee and Brandt, to drink tea in her apartments after the conclusion of the ball. If this party had taken place, it would have frustrated the plans of the queen dowager and her son. They would, probably, have considered it too dangerous to attack several of the first men in Denmark, collected together in one room, who were capable of resistance, and might either have escaped or defended themselves successfully. In such an attempt, the royal palace, where the principal among them were lodged, must have been rendered a scene of blood and horror. But one of the ladies who was invited, Frau von Schimmelmann, having a violent headache, excused herself; Frau von Bülow, unwilling to go without her friend, made her excuses likewise; and the Countess von Holstein, being the only female remaining of the party, it was abandoned.
In the meanwhile, the preparations for carrying out the plan of the conspirators were being made very silently. The grenadier company of Colonel Köller's Holstein regiment had the guard, on this day, at the palace, together with a troop of the Seeland dragoons, commanded by Von Eickstedt. The military charge of the palace was, consequently, confided to two of the accomplices. At nine in the evening, Colonel Eickstedt entered the stables of the corps de garde, and inquired of the stable-sentry whether Lieutenant Schlemann, the officer of the day, was in his room.
"Yes," the dragoon answered; "does your excellency wish me to call him?"
"No," the colonel said at first, so as not to betray the fact that he had solely come to speak to this officer. But after pretending to remember something, he turned again to the sentry, with the remark:
"By the way, you can tell the lieutenant that I am here."
Soon after, the lieutenant came down into the stable from the officers' guard-room.
"I see," the colonel addressed him, "that all your horses are saddled. Have you received orders to that effect?"