FRIEDEMANN BACH.
PART FIRST.
On New Year's eve of the year 1736, a brilliant company was assembled in the salons of the Count von Bruhl, lord premier to the Elector of Saxony. The mansion, opposite the castle in Dresden, was illuminated so brightly that the whole street in front was light as day. In a shadow of the castle wall stood a man wrapped in a cloak, gazing up at the windows, behind which could be seen the gay confusion of guests. Presently one—a lady splendidly dressed—came close to one of the windows, opened it, and stepped out upon the balcony. The light gleamed on the jewels in her coronet. She stood but an instant in the air, being called back; the window was closed, and she was lost in the throng.
The solitary watcher outside, with a deeply-drawn sigh, turned to depart. His hand was seized as he did so by a passer-by—a man in the dress of the court pages.
"Good evening!" cried a cheery voice. "How glad I am to find you at last! What were you doing here?"
The other laughed, evading an answer, and, drawing his cloak about him, complained of the cold.
"Come to Seconda's!" cried the page. "You will find plenty of hot punch there."
The two walked on to the celebrated Italian restaurant near the old market. The scene there was as brilliant as at the premier's. A gay company was assembled in the largest room, where the new-comers took seats at the table. As they threw off their hats and cloaks, the page was seen to be a man of about forty years of age, with a face deeply lined with the marks of free living. His eyes were bright and merry, and his mouth was liberal in smiles. His companion was a strikingly handsome man of twenty-five, with a pale and haughty countenance, and a form well proportioned and majestic. His expression was grave, and a satirical curl was in his lip when he spoke; his large, dark eyes were now fiercely flashing, now dreamy and melancholy, and they were often downcast and shaded by long, heavy lashes.
"You are dull to-night, mon ami!" cried the jovial page, whose name was Von Scherbitz. "Banish your gloom; it is no time for it."
"Have patience with me," said the young man in a low tone, and with an attempt at a laugh. "I cannot always keep even with you. I have served but a two years' brotherhood, you know."