that some one might approach the royal pair, and inform them of some
occurrence of which the count wished them to remain in ignorance.

There were many slanderers in this wretched kingdom--many who were
envious of the count's high position--many who dared to believe that
the minister employed the king's favor for his own good, and not for
that of his country. They said that he alone lived luxuriously in
this miserable land, while the people hungered; that he spent every
year over a million of thalers. They declared that he had not less
than five millions now lying in the banks of Rotterdam, Venice, and
Marseilles; others said that he had funds to the amount of seven
millions. One of these calumniators might possibly approach the
king's table and whisper into the royal ear his wicked slanders; one
of these evil-doers might even have the audacity to make his
unrighteous complaints to the queen. This it was that caused Count
Bruhl to tremble; this it was that robbed him of sleep at night, of
peace by day, this fear of a possible disgrace.

He was well acquainted with the history of Count Lerma, minister to
King Philip IV. of Spain. Lerma was also the ruler of a king, and
reigned over Spain, as Bruhl over Saxony. All had succumbed to his
power and influence, even the royal family trembled when he frowned,
and felt themselves honored by his smile. What was it that caused
the ruin of this all-powerful, irreproachable favorite? A little
note which King Philip found between his napkin one day, upon which
was this address: "To Philip IV., once King of Spain, and Master of
both the Indies, but now in the service of Count Lerma!" This it was
that caused the count's ruin; Philip was enraged by this note, and
the powerful favorite fell into disgrace.