Whilst in North Germany the catastrophe so disastrous to the House of Guelph was completed, in Vienna everything was expected from the battle which all foresaw must take place in Bohemia almost immediately. The Austrian arms had been successful in Italy, that drill ground for the Austrian general staff officers, the battle of Custozza had been won, and new confidence filled the Viennese, as to their success in Germany.
The Viennese placed full confidence in Field-Marshal Benedek, the man of the people, and from him they expected, in their light-hearted, sanguine fashion, complete success. Those anxious doubts had vanished which a short time before had filled them with uneasiness; the arms of Austria were victorious in Italy, fortune was favourable to the empire, and with excited but joyful confidence they awaited news from Bohemia. A great victory was certainly expected.
Things were looked at differently, and not with such confidence in the state offices in the Ballhaus Platz, and in the Hofburg.
Count Mensdorff was sad and downcast; the Italian success had not removed his gloomy forebodings, and he could only reply with a feeble smile to the congratulations he received on the victory of Custozza. The emperor alternated between fear and joyful hope; the victory in Italy awakened in his heart the proud recollection of Novara, and a wide and brilliant future spread before his gaze. But when the doubts, the warnings of Field-Marshal Benedek occurred to him--the plain, straightforward general, who troubled himself little about strategic operations, and only knew how to lead his soldiers against the enemy and to fight; but who continually maintained that with these troops, in the condition in which he found them, he could not beat the enemy--the emperor's heart had deep misgivings, and he waited for the future with great anxiety.
Whilst all Vienna felt the most restless, feverish excitement; whilst everyone wished that time had wings to hasten the events of the future, Madame Antonia Balzer lay on her luxurious couch in her quiet boudoir. The curtains were closed, notwithstanding the great heat; a soft twilight prevailed, and a mysterious and varied perfume pervaded the room, that perfume which fills the immediate neighbourhood of an elegant and beautiful woman; one cannot tell of what it consists, but it gives the invisible air a magnetic, sympathetic charm.
The young lady lay there as if she courted sleep, and on her features neither the passionateabandonappeared with which she had welcomed Herr von Stielow, nor the icy coldness which she had shown to her husband.
Her large eyes gazed gloomily into space, and her face expressed anxious, mournful weariness.
A number of sealed letters and telegrams lay on a small table near her.
Her pearly hand played carelessly with a small poodle dog which lay curled up in her lap.
"I thought I was strong," she whispered to herself; "and yet I cannot forget him!"
She sprang up, placed the little dog upon the pillow, and walked slowly up and down the room.
"What a wonderful organization is our human nature!" she cried scornfully. "I thought I was strong. I had set it before me as a means to rule, to rise on the aspiring ladder of life, without permitting myself to be kept back by the emotions and motives of the common herd; and now, when my feet touch the very first step of the ladder I look back, my heart weeps; I am sick with love and regret, like any milliner's girl," she added, with an angry look, as she stamped her small foot upon the carpet.
She gazed before her.
"And why," she asked thoughtfully, "why cannot my heart forget one who so scornfully turned from me, who so contemptuously gave me up? This Count Rivero--he offers me what I long for; he is a man who occupies a high place in the world, and guides with powerful hand the threads that weave the fate of men; why do I not love him? I might be happy. And he," she continued, while a soft mist came over her eyes, and her arms were slightly raised, "he, for whom every pulse in my heart beats, he whom I call back in the still hours of the night, whom my arms seek in empty space, who is he? A boy,--in intellect far beneath me; yet oh! he is so beautiful, so pure!" she cried, stretching out her hands to the picture her mind had called up; "I love him, and I am the slave of my love!"
She sank wearily into a luxurious chair, and covered her face with her hands.
She sat for a long time motionless, and only the panting breath of her heaving bosom interrupted the silence of the darkened room.
Then again she sprang up, and with trembling lips and vehement voice she cried,--
"But she--who tore him from me--that fine lady, who from her cradle has enjoyed every happiness life can afford, who basks in the golden sunshine of an admiring world, who has all--all, that is denied me--shall she enjoy the love that I have lost?"
She hastily opened a small casket of incrusted ebony, and took out a photograph in the form of acarte-de-visite.
She regarded it long with glowing looks.
"What foolish, inexpressive features!" she cried; "how lukewarm, how wearisome must be her love. Can she make him happy--he, who has known the passion of my heart--who has learnt what love is?"
And she spasmodically seized the likeness and crushed it together.
The bell of the entrance hall aroused her from her stormy dreams; she threw the crumpled photograph hastily back into the casket, and her face resumed its usual calm expression.
The servant announced Count Rivero, who immediately entered, faultlessly elegant as ever, cold, calm, and friendly; the smile of the man of the world upon his lips.
With light elastic steps he approached the lady and pressed his lips lightly on her hand--not with the fiery warmth of a lover--still less with the respectful courtesy of a man of distinction towards a lady of the great world. In the count's greeting there was a certain negligent familiarity, which only his extreme elegance, and the courteous bearing which marked his every movement preserved from rudeness.
She seemed to feel this, and regarded her visitor coldly, almost with enmity.
"What? have you slept, my fair friend?" said the count, smiling: "truly it is hard to believe that the whole world is trembling with anxiety when one enters this darkened and quiet apartment."
"A number of letters and despatches have arrived!" she said, pointing to the small table near her couch.
"Are you sure," asked the count, "that this large correspondence does not arouse curiosity?"
She smiled coldly.
"They are accustomed to my receiving many letters, and I do not think they will seek here for the clue of important political events."
The count walked to the window, and drew back one of the curtains, admitting the bright light into the room. He then pushed the table with the letters to the window, and opened them one after another, whilst the young lady watched him from her easy-chair in silence.
The count drew a portfolio from his pocket, took out a small volume containing various ciphers, and with its help began to decipher the letters. The contents appeared in the highest degree satisfactory, for an expression of joy beamed from his face, and he rose with a proud look when he had ended the perusal.
"I see the work approaches its completion," he said, half to himself, half to Madame Balzer; "soon will the building of lies and wickedness fall in ruins, and truth and right will again triumph."
"And what will it be to me?" asked the young lady, slightly turning her head towards the count.
He came up to her, seated himself near her couch, and spoke with extreme courtesy, as he kissed the hand she negligently abandoned to him.
"You have assisted in a great and noble work, my lovely friend, and you have rendered very important assistance by taking charge of a secret correspondence, which has enabled me to preserve the appearance of a man of the world and ordinary traveller. I promise you an independent and brilliant position. Thehowyou must leave to me. I hope you trust my words."
She gave him a quick look and said,--
"I do not doubt that you can keep your promise, or that you will keep it."
"But," he continued, "much remains still to be done, and I believe I can open out greater and nobler spheres to your genius and industry: will you continue to be my confederate?"
"I will," she replied; then a deep sigh heaved her breast, a rapid blush tinged her cheeks, and whilst a trembling fire sparkled in her eyes she said, "I have one wish."
"Express it!" he said with the gallantry of a man of the world; "if it be in my power to fulfil it--"
"I believe it is, for I have seen so many proofs of your power that I have unbounded confidence in it."
"Well?" he asked, gazing at her enquiringly.
She cast down her eyes, interlaced her fingers, and said in a low and timid voice,--
"Give me back Stielow."
Immense surprise, and a shade of displeasure appeared on his face.
"I certainly did not expect this wish," he said, "I thought you had forgotten this caprice. To fulfil it exceeds my power."
"I do not believe it," she replied, raising her eyes and gazing full at the count, "he is a boy, and you know how to lead earnest men of ripe years."
"But you forget," said he, "that--"
"That he, in a fit of ill-temper, out of spite, has thrown himself at the feet of afade, insipid girl, who finds a place in the almanach de Gotha, where her heart is also," she cried, rising hastily from her recumbent position, with flashing eyes. "No, I do not forget it, but just for that reason I will have him back. I will help you in everything," she continued, speaking more slowly, "I will employ all the powers of my intellect and of my will, on behalf of your plans; but I will have something in return for myself, and I say therefore, 'Give me back Stielow.'"
"You shall certainly," said the count, "have for yourself whatever you wish. I impose no restraints on your little personal divertissements," he added, with a smile; "but what do you want with this boy--as you yourself call him?--can you not rule men with your genius, and by a glance from those eyes?"
"I love him!" she whispered.
The count looked at her with amazement.
"Forgive me!" he said, smiling, "this boy--"
"Because he is a boy," she cried, and a stream of passionate feeling gushed from her large widely-opened eyes,--"because he is so pure, so good, and so beautiful," she whispered, and her eyes were veiled with mist.
The count looked at her very gravely.
"Do you know," he said, "that the love which rules you will take from you the power of ruling others, and of being my ally?"
"No," she cried, "no, it will strengthen me; but the vain longing in my heart makes me gloomy and weak,--oh! give him back to me again. I own my weakness, let me in this one point be weak, and I promise in every other you shall find me strong and immovable."
"Had you told me before what you now tell me," said he thoughtfully, "it might have been possible, perhaps, but now it is out of my power, and--I may not use it; this young man shall not be the plaything of your caprice," he said gravely and decidedly, "shake off this weakness, be strong, and forget this fancy!"
She rose cold and calm.
"Let us speak of it no more," she said in her accustomed tone.
The count examined her attentively.
"You own I am right?" he asked.
"I will forget this fancy," she replied without a muscle of her face changing.
At this moment the door-bell was heard.
"It is Galotti," said the count, and opened the door of the boudoir.
A strongly-made man entered, of middle height with a full face. His thin hair left a lofty arched brow completely free, the bright eyes were quick and observing, and the full lips denoted an energetic temperament and brilliant eloquence.
"Things are going on excellently," cried the count, advancing to meet him. "Everything is prepared for the decisive blow. The Sardinian party have lost courage; they are disorganized by the Austrian victory, and with one stroke the contemptible government they call Italian will crumble to pieces."
"Glorious! glorious!" cried Galotti, as he pressed Count Rivero's hand, and approached the lady, whom he greeted with all the grace of one accustomed to good society. "I bring good news too," he said, "they are ready at the Farnese Palace, and Count Montebello has, in answer to a confidential enquiry, made it clearly understood that he will take no steps to prevent Italy from becoming what was intended at the peace of Zurich."
"I will leave you, gentlemen," said Madame Balzer. "I will have breakfast prepared in the dining-room, and shall be at your disposal when your interview is ended."
Count Rivero kissed her hand, Signer Galotti bowed, and she withdrew through the door leading to her sleeping apartment.
"The king will go to Naples?" asked the count as soon as she had left the room.
"At the very first sign from us," replied Galotti, "a troop of brigands, formed of old soldiers of the Neapolitan guards, will await him on the coast, the Sardinian garrisons are always weak, and at the first signal the whole people will rise!"
"Do you think the moment has come for placing the match to our well-laid train?" asked the count.
"Certainly," replied Galotti; "what should we wait for? The Sardinian army is completely demoralized by the battle of Custozza, and is held in check by the Grand Duke Albert, so that it cannot be employed in the interior. The most rapid action is needful; in a few weeks Italy can be freed from the heavy yoke which weighs her down. Everyone is waiting longingly for the word, the giving of which is in your hand."
The count walked thoughtfully to the window.
"Everything has been prepared so long, thought over so carefully," said he, "and yet now the decisive moment approaches, now the eventful word--'Act!'--must be spoken, giving life and motion to our quiet preparations,--the doubt arises whether all is well organized. Yet we can no longer hesitate. We must send the watchword to Rome and Naples, and to Tuscany," he said, turning to Galotti; "here are three addresses," he added, taking from his portfolio three cards and carefully perusing them. "The text of the telegram is written below, the names, like the contents of the despatches, are perfectly unimportant, they will disclose nothing."
And with a trembling hand he held out the cards to Signor Galotti.
Madame Balzer rushed into the boudoir.
"Do you know, Count Rivero," she cried, "that the army in Bohemia is completely defeated? The news is spreading like wild-fire through Vienna, my maid has just heard it in the house."
The count gazed at her in blank dismay. His eyes opened wide with horror, a nervous movement convulsed his lips, and he hastily snatched up his hat.
"Impossible!" cried Galotti. "General Gablenz has been victorious in several skirmishes; a great battle was not expected."
"We must hear what has happened," said the count, in a low voice, "it would be horrible if this intelligence were true."
He was about to hasten away. A violent peal at the bell was heard, and almost immediately a young man in the dress of a priest entered the room.
"Thank God! that I find you here, Count Rivero," he cried, "nothing must be done, the disaster is immense, Benedek is totally beaten, the whole army is in wild flight and confusion."
The count was dumb. His dark eyes were raised to heaven with a burning look, deep grief was painted on his features.
"We must act so much the more rapidly and energetically," cried Galotti; "if this news reaches Italy our confederates will be frightened and confused, the enemy will gain courage, and the lukewarm will become foes."
He stretched out his hand to take the cards which Rivero still held.
The count made a movement of refusal.
"How did you gain your information, Abbé Rosti?" he asked quietly.
"It has just been brought from the Hofburg to the Nuncio," replied the abbé. "Unhappily there is no doubt of its truth."
"Then the work of years is lost!" said Count Rivero, in a grave and melancholy voice.
"Let us use the present moment!" cried Galotti, "let us act quickly; then, let what will happen in Germany, we shall at least have restored Italy to her ancient rights, and Austria must be grateful to us if we give her in Italy the influence she has lost in Germany."
"No!" said the count, calmly, "we must not venture upon action before the situation is perfectly plain. Our whole force in Italy is quite strong enough to break the Piedmontese rule if the regular army is engaged and defeated by the victorious Austrian troops, but we are not in a position to effect anything against the army of Piedmont if it is free to act against us. We should uselessly sacrifice all our faithful friends, and we should destroy the organization we have formed with such toil, which will be useful to us in the future, and which we could never again bring to such perfection if it were now broken up. And I fear Victor Emanuel's army will be free, I fear Vienna will give up Italy."
"Give up Italy, after the victory of Custozza!" cried the Abbé Rosti, "it is impossible,--wherefore?"
"For Germany! which she will also lose!"
"But, my God!" cried Galotti, "that would have been done before the campaign, if done at all. Austria's forces in Germany would have been doubled--but now--"
"My dear friend," said the count, sighing, "remember the words of the First Napoleon: 'Austria is always too late--by one year, one army, and one idea!'"
"I cannot make up my mind to sit still," cried Galotti, energetically, "now that everything is prepared, and we seem almost to hold success in our hands."
"I do not desire that we should indifferently sit still," said Count Rivero; "we will never sit still," he added, with flashing eyes, "but we must perhaps begin again a long and toilsome work from the beginning. For the present we must not act hastily, and compromise individuals and events, risking the future before we see our way clearly. Do you know," he enquired of the abbé, "how the emperor received the intelligence and what he did?"
"The emperor was much cast down, as was natural," said the abbé; "he sent Count Mensdorff immediately to the army, that he might ascertain its condition. That is all we have yet heard."
"Mensdorff was right," said Count Rivero, thoughtfully; then, raising himself with an energetic movement, he said: "Once more, gentlemen, we must see clearly before we act; and our courage must not fail, even if we perceive long years of toil before us. Above all, I wish to be fully informed as to the present, then we will speak of the future."
He approached the lady, who had remained during the conversation gazing before her as if completely indifferent, and said, as he kissed her hand: "Auf Wiedersehn! chère amie!" then he added in a somewhat lower voice, "Perhaps the moment will soon come for opening so wide a field to your skilful industry, that all minor wishes will be forgotten!"
She looked up at him quickly for a moment, but she did not reply.
The two other gentlemen took leave, and left the room with the count.
The young lady remained alone.
A flashing look followed them as they withdrew.
"You wish to use me for your plans," she cried, "you seek to charm me with hopes of freedom and dominion, and you would prepare for me a gilded slavery? You forbid my heart to beat, because it cannot be so serviceable as your tool? Ah! you deceive yourself, Count Rivero! I need you, but I am not your servant, your slave! Well then, let war begin between us," she said, with determination; "not war to the death, but a war for rule; I will try to make your proud shoulders bear me up to power and independence. Independence!" said she, sighing, after a short silence, "how much I am short of it, yet let me go carefully and prudently onwards; first, I will see whether I cannot win back the unfaithful friend to whom my heart still clings, without the aid of my master."
She threw herself on the sofa, and looked thoughtfully before her.
"But, my God!" she cried, with anguish in her eyes, as she pressed her tender hand to her forehead, "I wish to win him back, and he is before the enemy, the great battle has been fought, perhaps he lies dead already upon the bloody field." And her eyes gazed into space as if she actually saw the horrible picture her fancy had painted.
Then she leant back and a dark expression passed over her face.
"And if it were so?" she said, gloomily, "perhaps it would be better for me, and I might then be free from the burning thorn I cannot tear from my heart. The count is right! such love is weakness, and I will not be weak! perhaps I should again be strong. But to know that he is living, to think that he belongs to me no longer, that he, in his beauty, is at the feet of another--"
She sprang up, a wild glow kindled in her eyes, her breast heaved high, her beautiful features were distorted by the vehemence of her emotion.
"Never, never!" she said, in a low, hissing voice. "If he were dead, I could forget him; but that picture will pursue me everywhere--will poison my life. Poison!" she repeated, and an evil flash passed across her face. "How easy it was in days gone by," she whispered, "to destroy an enemy! Now--" Again she stared blankly before her. "But is it needful to poison the body to conquer difficulties?"
A wicked smile played around her beautiful mouth; her eyes flashed, and for a long time she sat thinking deeply.
She rose and went to her rosewood writing-table. She took a packet of letters from one compartment and began to read them attentively. Several she threw back; at last she seemed to have found what she sought. It was a short note only, written on a single sheet.
"He wrote me this during the manœ uvres," said she; "this will serve me."
She read:--
"My sweet queen,
"I must tell you in a few words how my heart longs for you, and how much I feel this separation. All day I am interested, and hard at work at my duty, but when at night I lie down in bivouac, the stars above me, and the soft breath of night sighing around, then your sweet image dwells in my heart; I seem to feel your breath; I open my arms seeking to embrace you; and when at last sleep weighs down my eyelids, you are with me in my dreams. Oh, that the unmelodious trumpet must destroy such heavenly visions! I would ever dream until I am again with you, and find with you a sweeter reality. I kiss this paper, so soon to touch your lovely hands."
While she read her voice was soft, and she gazed at the letter lost in recollections.
Then again her features grew cold and hard.
"This will do perfectly," said she; "and no date; excellent!"
She seized a pen, and after considering the handwriting for a few moments, she wrote at the commencement of the letter--"June 30th, 1866."
She looked attentively at her writing.
"Yes," she said, "it will pass capitally."
She rang a small silver bell. Her maid entered.
"Find my husband," said Madame Balzer, "and tell him I wish to speak to him immediately."
The maid withdrew, and the young lady walked thoughtfully to the window, carelessly looking down on the excited crowds below, whilst a slight smile of satisfaction played on her lips.
Gloomy silence prevailed in the Hofburg. In the midst of the rejoicings at the Italian victory the annihilating thunderbolt had fallen, ruining all hopes of success in Bohemia, and destroying in a moment the blind confidence that had been placed in Field-Marshal Benedek and his operations. It was as if a sudden stupefaction had come on everyone. The attendants glided slowly and sadly through the long corridors, and scarcely said the few words necessary for the fulfilment of their duties. Immediately after receiving the intelligence of the lost battle, the emperor had sent Count Mensdorff to Benedek's head-quarters, that, being himself a soldier, he might judge of the condition of affairs; he then withdrew into his own apartments, and only the adjutant-general had access to him.
Deep silence reigned in the imperial ante-room. The life guardsman stood quietly before the emperor's door; the equerry on duty, Baron Fejérváry de Komlos, leant silently against the window and looked at the groups below, as they formed and again dispersed after grave whispered converse. There were often looks cast upwards to the windows of the castle, as though they longed for fresh news--for something decided, to remove their load of anxiety.
The regular ticking of the great old clock was heard, marking as calmly these saddest moments to the House of Hapsburg as it had proclaimed during its greatest splendour that all yielded to the inexorable scythe of Time. For Time goes on with equal pace during the flying moments of happiness and during the creeping hours of the blackest day, only in the rush of happiness his iron footstep is unheard, whilst in the sad stillness of misfortune "memento mori" sounds on every ear, and calls to each one of us from the bosom of the solemn vanished past.
Thus was it here. The guardsman and the equerry had often performed their duty in this very room, with their hearts full of joyful thoughts of the world without; and all those hours had vanished from their recollection, or had melted together in a blurred picture; but these hours, these still, dark hours, with the slow stroke of the heavy pendulum marking their lingering seconds, were buried deep in their memory for ever.
The Adjutant-General Count Crenneville entered. He was accompanied by the Hanoverian ambassador, General von Knesebeck, dressed in the full uniform of a Hanoverian general, and followed by the King of Hanover's equerry, Major von Kohlrausch, a simple soldier-like man, with a short black moustache and a bald head.
General von Knesebeck, the tall, stately man who had moved with so firm and proud a step through Count Mensdorff's salons, now stooped in his walk. Sorrow and mourning lay on his grave regular features, and without speaking a word he saluted the equerry on duty.
"Will you announce me, dear baron?" said Count Crenneville to Baron von Fejérváry.
He entered the imperial apartment, and returning immediately, signified to the adjutant-general by a respectful movement that the emperor awaited him.
Count Crenneville entered the cabinet of Francis Joseph.
The emperor again wore a large grey military cloak. He sat bending over his writing-table; pens, papers, and letters lay untouched before him; there were no signs of the restless industry of a sovereign who never allowed an hour to pass idly. It was not grief which the excited, wearied countenance of the emperor wore, it was comfortless, dull despair.
Crenneville looked sadly at his sovereign thus weighed down with sorrow, and said, with deep emotion,--
"I beg your imperial majesty not to yield to the sad impression of this disastrous news. We all--all Austria looks to her emperor. No misfortune is so great that a strong will and a resolute courage cannot amend it; and if your majesty despairs, what will the army--what will the people do?"
The emperor slowly raised his wearied eyes and passed his hand over his brow as if to ease it of a load of thought.
"You are right," he answered mournfully. "Austria expects from me courage and decision, and truly," he cried, raising his head, whilst an angry flash darted from his eyes, "courage I have, might I but face the enemy's fire, and if my personal courage could procure success, victory should not fail the banners of Austria! But must I not believe that I am ordained to misfortune, that my sceptre must bring destruction upon Austria? Have I not done everything to procure success? have I not placed at the head of the troops a man whom the army and the nation considered the most competent? And now?--beaten!" cried he vehemently, with tears in his eyes, "beaten after so haughty, so bold an attack, beaten by this enemy who during the last century has seized on my ancestral inheritance in Germany, an enemy whom I hoped to overthrow for ever. What avails me the victory in Italy, if I lose Germany? oh! it is hard!"
And the emperor supported his head in both his hands whilst a deep sigh heaved his breast.
Count Crenneville came a step nearer.
"Your majesty!" said he, "all is not yet lost. Mensdorff will perhaps bring us good news; the battle must have cost the enemy much, perhaps all may still be well."
The emperor let his hands sink down and looked at the count for some time.
"My dear Crenneville!" he then said, gravely and slowly, "I will tell you something which has never been so clear to me as at this moment. Do you know," he said dreamily, "what great characteristic of my family carried Hapsburg and Austria through all the hardest times? It was its tenacity, its tough indestructible tenacity, that bent beneath the blows of misfortune, without for a moment losing sight of the aim for which to suffer, to wait, to conquer. Go to past history, look up the darkest, heaviest times, you will find in all my ancestors proofs of unconquerable endurance, and you will find too that this characteristic was their salvation. This tenacity," he continued after a short silence, "this Hapsburg endurance, in me is wanting, and that is my misfortune. Joy bears me on his light pinions high as the heavens, large views of life fill me with mighty inspiration, but even so the heavy hand of misfortune dashes me to the ground. I can fight, I can sacrifice myself, but I cannot bear, I cannot wait--oh! I cannot wait!" he cried, with a look of horror.
Then suddenly he raised his head, he pressed his beautiful teeth lightly on the full under lip and said, the princely pride of the Hapsburg kindling in his eyes,--
"You are right, Count Crenneville, I must not yield to weakness; forget that you have seen me weak so long; is the misfortune great?--we must be greater than misfortune!"
"The heavier the blow, the more deeply it affects your heart, so much the more I admire the bold courage which your majesty now, as ever, regains. I rejoice the more," added the count, "that your imperial majesty is superior to disaster, as the Ambassador General Knesebeck has just requested an audience; he bears the heavy blow which has fallen on his master well and chivalrously!"
"The poor king," cried the emperor, "he has bravely defended his rights, and he now expects from me help and protection! All those princes," he continued gloomily, "who assembled around me in the old imperial hall at Frankfort, how shall I appear before them after this shameful defeat!" And again he sank into brooding thought.
"Your majesty!" cried Count Crenneville in a low, imploring tone.
The emperor stood up.
"Bring General von Knesebeck in!"
The adjutant-general hastened to the door, and a moment afterwards returned with General von Knesebeck, and Major von Kohlrausch.
The emperor walked towards the general and held out his hand with much emotion.
"You bring sad news, my dear general; I am filled with admiration for your royal master, and I deeply deplore that such great heroism could not command a happier result. Alas! you have found little to console you here," he added with a visible effort; and then as if unwilling to pursue the painful subject, he turned a look of enquiry towards Major von Kohlrausch.
"Your majesty," said General von Knesebeck, "I mast first beg permission to introduce to you Major von Kohlrausch, equerry to my royal master. He begs the honour of presenting a letter from our sovereign."
The emperor bowed kindly to the major, who stepped forward in a soldier-like manner and placed a writing in the emperor's hand.
He opened it quickly and looked through its brief contents.
"His majesty imparts the melancholy catastrophe to me in a few words, and refers me to you for a personal communication, major."
"My gracious master," said Major von Kohlrausch, as if repeating a military order, "commanded me to tell your imperial majesty, that after the great efforts made by his army to preserve the independence of his crown, and victoriously to defend his kingdom, and after these efforts and the successful battle of Langensalza were rendered useless by the superior numbers of the enemy, his majesty deemed his most dignified and worthy course would be to repair to your imperial majesty, his illustrious confederate."
"And his true friend!" cried the emperor warmly.
The major bowed and proceeded.
"May I ask your imperial majesty whether the visit of the king and his reception in Vienna will be agreeable to you?"
"Agreeable!" cried the emperor with animation, "I long to embrace the heroic monarch who has given us all so high an example of princely stedfastness. Truly," he proceeded with a sigh, "the king will no longer find here a powerful ally; he will find a broken power needing the greatest courage and every exertion to avert the worst consequences."
"I believe I am speaking the mind of my royal master," said Major von Kohlrausch, "when I assure your imperial majesty the king is ready and resolved to share fortune and misfortune with his illustrious ally, whose cause is his own and that of right."
The emperor looked on the ground for a moment. Then he raised his eyes with a brilliant expression, and said, his countenance glowing with courage and happy pride,--
"The friendship and the trust of so noble and heroic a heart as your king's must give courage to all, and fresh confidence in our cause. Tell your royal master I await him with impatience, and that he will find me worthy to defend the cause of right and of Germany to the uttermost. My answer to the king shall be given to you as soon as possible."
The emperor ceased. The major silently awaited a sign of dismissal.
After a few moments Francis Joseph said, in a voice of emotion,--
"The king has given us an unparalleled example of heroism. I am anxious to express my admiration for his courage and that of the crown prince during the last few days by an outward sign. I will immediately summon the chapter of the Order of Maria Theresa, and my army will be proud if the king and his son will wear upon their breasts the noblest and highest sign of honour to an Austrian soldier--wait until I can send you the insignia."
"I know my master well enough," said the major, with a joyful expression, "to be sure that such a sign will fill him with the highest satisfaction, and that the whole Hanoverian army will receive it with proud joy."
"I have been much pleased, my dear major," said the emperor, gracefully, "to receive you on this occasion as an envoy from the king. I will, with the other things, send you the cross of the Order of Leopold, and I beg you to wear it in memory of this moment, and of my friendly remembrance."
The major bowed deeply. "Without this gracious sign," he said, "I should never forget this moment."
"Now rest yourself," said the emperor, kindly, "that you may have strength when all is ready for your return."
He bowed his head as a dismissal. The major with a quick military salute left the cabinet.
"You have been in the Bavarian head-quarters," said the emperor to General von Knesebeck.
"I have, your majesty," replied he. "When, in consequence of despatches received from Count Ingelheim, your majesty commanded me to go at once to Prince Karl, and urgently to beg him, in your all-powerful name, to hasten to the assistance of the Hanoverian army, I set out immediately, and found the Bavarian head-quarters, which the day before had been at Bamberg, at Neustadt. I represented to Prince Karl the pressing danger of the Hanoverian army, and I implored him, in your majesty's name and in that of my king, to make a rapid advance towards Eisenach and Gotha, that a union might be effected, and a favourable and important change possibly be made in the whole campaign."
"And Prince Karl?" asked the emperor, anxiously.
"The prince, as well as General von der Tann, who was with him, fully acknowledged the importance of a union of the Bavarian with the Hanoverian army--they were ready to do everything in their power--as indeed had been intended at the outset of the march. At the same time his royal highness, as well as the chief of the general staff, expressed great dissatisfaction at the march of the Hanoverian army; it was then really not known where it was, and, according to information brought in, the greatest strategical faults had been committed. The prince asked me about the strength of our army, and when I replied that, according to my estimation and to the intelligence I had heard, about nineteen thousand men were under arms, he replied, 'With nineteen thousand men you should cut your way through the enemy, and not march hither and thither into positions where you must be surrounded.' General von der Tann nodded approval."
The emperor bent his head and sighed.
"I heard this with great sorrow," added the general, "and my grief was greater since I could not deny the truth of the judgment pronounced at the Bavarian headquarters. I am a general staff officer, your majesty," he said, with a sigh, "but I must own the marches which our army have made are to me quite incomprehensible, and that it would have been much easier on our part to reach the Bavarians by a hasty march, than to await their advance with these apparently aimless runnings to and fro."
"The poor king!" cried the emperor, in a sorrowful voice.
"Naturally," continued von Knesebeck, "I did not utter these ideas in the Bavarian head-quarters; on the contrary, I urged a hasty advance for the relief of the Hanoverian army--the only course as matters then were which could possibly save it. Prince Karl, in spite of his displeasure, was quite ready to comply; he immediately commanded an advance by the forest of Thuringia upon Gotha, and informed Prince Alexander of his movements, that the eighth army corps might march at the same time. But," he added, with a sigh, "the Bavarian army had been reduced to a peace footing."
"Impossible!" cried the emperor. "Bavaria urged upon the confederation so strongly the policy that led to war."
General von Knesebeck slightly shrugged his shoulders.
"Under the circumstances," he said, "the Bavarian army was not in a condition to act rapidly and forcibly. However, they set out. Prince Karl removed his headquarters to Meiningen, and with a heavy heart full of misgivings I accompanied him thither. The following day we were to proceed; then Count Ingelheim arrived, and brought the news of the catastrophe of Langensalza!"
"What a melancholy combination of disastrous events!" cried the emperor.
"Under these circumstances," continued the general, "Prince Karl was quite right in abandoning his onward march and ordering flank movements, through which to join the eighth army corps at Friedberg, seventeen miles from Meiningen. I returned here with a sorrowful heart, and found, alas! the news of the still heavier blow which has smitten your majesty and our cause."
"The blow is heavy," cried the emperor, "but I have courage, and hope all may yet be favourable. I am glad that your king's message came to-day, and that I have seen you, my dear general; it has given me fresh courage to strive to the utmost to do my duty towards Germany. Do you think," he asked, after a moment's thought, "that we may expect an energetic campaign from Bavaria? You have seen the condition of the army--you have the quick eye of a soldier--tell me candidly your opinion!"
"Your majesty," said General von Knesebeck, "Bavaria will doubtless absorb Prussian troops, and that is an advantage. As to an energetic campaign, Prince Karl is a very old gentleman, and at his years energy is unusual, especially at the head of an army unfit to fight."
"But General von der Tann?" asked the emperor.
"General von der Tann has great military capacity; whether he will be responsible for any exploit not purely Bavarian in its aim, whether with the prince's character he can effect anything, I doubt."
"You expect then--?" asked the emperor anxiously.
"Very little!" said the general.
"And from the other German corps?" asked the emperor.
"The eighth corps can do nothing without Bavaria; and before my departure extraordinary news had arrived from Baden."
"Will Baden fall off from us?" cried the emperor.
"I do not know," said Knesebeck, "the impression made by the defeat of Königgrätz, which will perhaps be exaggerated--" He shrugged his shoulders.
"The Reichs-armee!" cried the emperor, stamping his foot upon the ground. "Do you believe," he exclaimed vehemently, "that the Austrian sun is setting? It is indeed evening," he said gloomily--"perhaps night; but," he cried, with flaming eyes, "after night comes morning!"
"The sun does not set upon the realms of Austria; your majesty must have faith in the brilliant star of your house!" cried General von Knesebeck.
"And by God!" cried the emperor, "if the star of day will once more shine favourably upon the House of Austria during this campaign, then shall your king in the full splendour of power and happiness stand next to myself in Germany!" And he held out his hand to the general with a movement of indescribable nobility.
The equerry entered.
"Count Mensdorff, your imperial majesty, has just returned, and requests an audience."
"Ah!" cried the emperor, drawing a deep breath; "at once--at once. I await him with impatience!"
And he walked forward to meet Count Mensdorff, who, at a sign from Major von Fejérvári, appeared on the threshold of the royal cabinet.
"Has your imperial majesty any further commands for me?" asked General von Knesebeck.
"Remain! remain! dear general," cried the emperor. "Count Mensdorff's intelligence will have the greatest interest for you, as well as for me!"
The general bowed.
"And now, Count Mensdorff," cried the emperor, with a trembling voice, "speak! The fate of Austria hangs on your lips!"
Count Mensdorff stood before his monarch looking quite broken down; the fatigues of the journey to headquarters had exhausted his feeble frame, nervous anxiety had drawn deep lines upon his countenance, a sorrowful expression lay around his lips, and only his dark eyes shone with feverish brilliance.
"You are exhausted!" cried the emperor; "seat yourselves, gentlemen."
And he seated himself before his writing-table. Crenneville, Count Mensdorff, and General Knesebeck placed themselves near the table.
"Your majesty," said Count Mensdorff, in his low voice, "the tidings I bring are sad,--very sad, but not hopeless."
The emperor folded his hands and looked upwards.
"The army has suffered a frightful defeat," said Count Mensdorff, "ending in a wild flight, in which all order was lost. To assemble and re-form the masses will require several days."
"But how is this possible?" cried the emperor, "how could Benedek--"
"The field-marshal," said Count Mensdorff, "was quite right when he told your majesty he could not fight with that army,--events have been unparalleled. Your majesty knows that Benedek is a good, brave general, who is quite capable of forestalling the plans and defeating the troops who operate against him. Your majesty,--I must say it,--he has in no way been supported. The general staff drew up a plan, the excellence of which I will not judge, but which the rapid, unexpected, and wonderfully combined movements of the Prussian army, the sudden and unforeseen arrival of the crown prince's forces, ought to have modified. With inconceivable blindness the general staff refused to make any modification,--to listen to any warning. Added to this, they were so little prepared for a retreat, or so incomprehensibly careless, that the officers were unacquainted with the line of retreat, and not one commandant of a regiment knew the bridges by means of which the march must be effected; thus the retreat became a flight, the flight became the dissolution of the army."
"Terrible!" cried the emperor; "Benedek must be brought before a court-martial."
"Not Benedek, your majesty," said Count Mensdorff; "he has done what he could do; he stood at the post which had been given him, he exposed himself personally in a way seldom done by a general; and with unequalled courage he, with his whole staff, charged the enemy as if at the head of a squadron,--of course in vain. Tears came into my eyes, your majesty," proceeded Count Mensdorff, in a voice slightly trembling with emotion, "when I saw the brave general, broken down with grief, and when he said to me in his simple, soldier-like way: 'I have lost everything, except, alas! my life!' Your majesty, we must deeply regret that the field-marshal was placed in a position to which he was unequal; but to be angry with him, to blame him, is impossible."
The emperor looked silently and gloomily down before him.
"But," continued Count Mensdorff, "the general staff must be made to answer for their conduct. I am far from pronouncing a judgment; the moment has not yet come, and an impartial and calm examination is now impossible. I hope that the accused may be able to justify themselves; but a strict reckoning must be required, it is demanded by the voice of the whole army, whose heroic courage has been sacrificed in vain,--in a few days it will be demanded by the voice of the people."
"And who are the guilty?" asked the emperor.
"Lieutenant Field-Marshal von Henikstein and Major-General von Krismanic are theaccused," said the count with emphasis; "whether they are guilty justice must decide."
"They shall be removed from their positions, and recalled here to justify themselves. Count Crenneville," cried the emperor.
"At your majesty's command," replied the adjutant-general.
"I must not conceal from your imperial majesty," continued Count Mensdorff in a calm voice, "that several parties in the army severely blame Count Clam-Gallas; they say he did not conduct his operations at the right time nor obey the orders that were given him."
"Count Clam!" exclaimed the emperor. "I do not believe it."
"I thank your imperial majesty for that word," said Count Mensdorff, "and I venture to add that I believe from his devotion to your majesty and to Austria, Count Clam-Gallas would be incapable of military negligence; nevertheless, he is my relative, he belongs to the great aristocracy of the empire--the public voice accuses him, and will condemn him the more easily if his justification is not brilliant and complete. I beg your majesty to call him to account."
"It shall be done," said the emperor, "he shall be invited here; I can then take further steps. But now," he continued, "what is to be done? is the situation hopeless?"
"Your majesty," replied Count Mensdorff, "the army still numbers 180,000 men; at the present moment they are certainly in no condition to carry on any military operation; but only time and re-formation are required to enable them to offer fresh resistance to the enemy. The fortified camp of Olmütz affords rest and safety, and the field-marshal is withdrawing his head-quarters there, to draw the enemy away from Vienna."
"To draw them away from Vienna!" repeated the emperor; "it is terrible; this enemy whom I hoped to overthrow for ever, already threatens me in my capital!"
"It is to be hoped," said Count Mensdorff, "that the Prussian army will follow the field-marshal, and be detained before Olmütz; in the meantime Vienna must be covered to provide for every contingency, and to enable us to attack the enemy on two sides when we can resume offensive measures."
General Knesebeck nodded approval, the emperor cast a look of excitement on his minister.
"And to obtain this," added Count Mensdorff, "we need Hungary and the Italian army."
The emperor rose.
"Do you believe," he cried vehemently, "that from the mouth of Hungary the words that saved Austria will again resound:Moriamur pro rege nostro?"
"Pro rege nostro," said Count Mensdorff, clearly pronouncing each word, "yes, I do believe it--if your majesty will berex Hungariæ!"
"Am I not?" cried the emperor. "What shall I do to make Hungary draw the sword for me?"
"Forget and forgive," said Count Mensdorff, "and restore to Hungary her independence beneath the crown of St. Stephen."
The emperor was silent.
"And the Italian army?" he then asked.
"Must be recalled as quickly as possible, to cover Vienna, and to march against the enemy!"
"And what will become of Italy?" asked the emperor.
"Italy must be given up," said Count Mensdorff, sighing.
The emperor gave him a penetrating look.
"Give up Italy?" he asked, hesitatingly, and cast down his eyes.
"Italy or Germany," said Count Mensdorff, "and in my opinion the choice cannot be difficult."
"It is hard enough to have to make the choice," whispered the emperor.
"Your majesty, permit me to speak plainly and to express my thoughts clearly. Your imperial majesty will remember before the commencement of the war my deep anxiety at two different campaigns being carried on at the same moment. I was of the opinion that Italy ought to be sacrificed, that our position in Germany might be recovered and strengthened by an alliance with France. One might then indeed hope that without this sacrifice the war on both sides would be successfully carried on, and your majesty's great and courageous heart held firmly to this hope. Now this is no longer possible, now the sorrowful choice must be made--if we are to gain anything in Germany--if we are to maintain what we possess--the whole strength of Austria must be concentrated upon one point, the whole strength of the Italian army must be brought here, and the Arch-Duke Albert with his eagle eye must take the entire command of both armies. Thus alone is recovery possible; thus alone is it possible to keep Germany for Austria. For," he added, mournfully, "your majesty must not be deceived, the disaster of Königgrätz will have a great effect on all the lukewarm and hesitating members of the German Confederation. Baden has already fallen away."
"Baden fallen away?" cried the emperor vehemently.
"Just now, since my return, as I was preparing to come here," said Count Mensdorff, "intelligence came to the Office of State from Frankfort, that Prince William of Baden had declared on the 6th, that under existing circumstances he must refuse for the troops of Baden to co-operate with the army of the confederation."
"Such, then, is the first result of Königgrätz," said the emperor, bitterly. "But," he cried, with sparkling eyes, as he threw back his head, "they may be mistaken, these princes, whose forefathers humbly surrounded the throne of my ancestors. The power of Austria is shaken, but not destroyed; and yet again the time may come when Hapsburg will sit in judgment in Germany, to punish and reward! Count Mensdorff," he cried, with decision, "my choice is made. I give up all for Germany. But," he continued, sinking again into gloomy thought, "how can I--I, the victor, bow down before this king of Italy--implore a peace which may, perhaps, be refused?"
"Your majesty," said Count Mensdorff, "the solution of that difficulty is very simple, if you cast your eye over the political situation as it was at the beginning of the war. The Emperor Napoleon ardently desires the evacuation of Italy. He offered an alliance before the commencement of the war, of which Venetia was the price; cannot the same still be obtained? My advice, your majesty, is that we should cede Venice to the emperor of the French, who, on his part, can deliver it over to Victor Emanuel, and by this means an alliance with Napoleon will be obtained, or at least, under unfavourable circumstances, his powerful intervention. Thus the dignity of Austria will be preserved towards Italy, all direct negotiation avoided, and the whole of our force will be available for the struggle in Germany. If your majesty commands it, I will immediately speak on the subject to the Duke de Gramont, and send instructions to Prince Metternich."
The emperor was silent for some time, lost in thought. The three gentlemen sat round him motionless: it was so quiet in the cabinet that their breathing was perceptible, and in the distance was heard the echoing movement of great Vienna.
At last the emperor rose. The three gentlemen stood up.
"So be it, then," cried Francis Joseph, very gravely; "neither Spain nor Italy have brought a blessing to my house. In Germany was their cradle, in Germany grew their strength, in Germany shall lie their future!"
"Speak to Gramont immediately," he proceeded. "And you, Count Crenneville, make all the necessary arrangements for my uncle to assume the general command of all my armies, and also for bringing the army of the south hither. General Knesebeck," he said, turning towards him, "you are here as the representative of the bravest princes in Germany. You see that the heir of the German emperors sacrifices all for Germany!"
"I would that all Germany witnessed your majesty's noble decision," said the general with emotion.
"And Hungary, your majesty?" asked Count Mensdorff.
"Speak to Count Andrassy," said the emperor, with a little hesitation. "Tell him what may happen, and hear what they expect."
He made a sign with his hand, and bent his head with a friendly smile.
Bowing deeply, the three gentlemen left the cabinet.
The emperor walked to and fro several times with hasty steps.
"Thus all that the sword of Radetzky won, is lost," he said, with a deep sigh, as he stood still before the window. "That land is lost for which so much German blood has flowed! Be it so," he cried, drawing a deep breath, "if I may only retain Germany."
He looked thoughtfully down on the ground.
"But if I give up Italy," he whispered, "how can Rome, how can the Church withstand the waves which will then hurl themselves against St. Peter's rock?"
A darker gloom lay on his brow.
With a slight knock, the groom of the chambers entered by the door leading from the inner apartment.
"Count Rivero," he said, "begs for an audience, and as your majesty commanded me to announce him at once, I----"
"Is this a warning?" said the emperor, in a low tone; and he made a movement as if to decline the interview.
He then stepped back from the window, and said,--
"Let him come."
The groom of the chambers withdrew.
"I will hear him," said the emperor; "he has at least the right to candour and truth."
The door of the inner apartment was again opened, and Count Rivero entered the cabinet, looking grave and melancholy.
"You come in a heavy hour, count," said the emperor, addressing him; "the events of this day have buried many hopes."
"Just and holy hopes should never be buried, your majesty," replied the count; "yes, even if we go down to the grave, we must look with trust to the future."
The emperor gave him a scrutinizing look.
"I will not quite give up hope," he said, with a certain amount of embarrassment.
"Your majesty," said the count, after a short pause, during which the emperor expressed nothing more, "I have only heard the outlines of the great disaster; I do not yet know what its results will be, or what your majesty has determined to do. But I do know well that all is prepared in Italy for an insurrection in favour of our Holy Faith, and for the right. The Austrian victories have deeply shaken both the military and moral power of the King of Sardinia, and the moment has come to pronounce the decisive word which will set the country in flames. I beg your majesty's commands to do this, and above all I ask whether the rising in Italy will have the full and powerful support of the Austrian army. Without this, the sacrifice of many lives would be useless, and we should but injure our holy cause."
The count spoke in a calm, low voice, and in the respectful tone of a courtier, but at the same time with grave firmness, and a certain proud conviction.
The emperor cast down his eyes for a moment, then he came a step nearer to the count, and said,--
"My dear count, the enemy in Bohemia threatens the capital; the defeated army cannot operate without rest and reorganization. I need the whole strength of Austria to counteract the consequences of this defeat, to parry this threatened blow; the army of the south must cover Vienna, and give the Bohemian army time to reassemble, and strength to reassume offensive measures."
"Then your majesty will give up Italy?" said the count, with a deep sigh, but without a sign of excitement, as he fixed his dark eyes full on the emperor.
"I must," said the emperor,--"I must, unless I yield Germany, and annihilate the position of Austria; there is no escape."
"Your majesty will thus," continued the count, calmly, in his deep metallic voice, "your majesty will thus yield the iron crown of the House of Hapsburg, for ever, to the House of Savoy, yield Venice, the proud Queen of the Adriatic, to Victor Emanuel, whose army has been smitten down by the sword of Austria?"
"Not to him," cried the emperor warmly, "not to him."
"And to whom, your majesty?"
"I need the help of France," said the emperor. "I must buy the alliance of Napoleon at a price I would not pay before the commencement of the war."
"Must his cold demon-like hand again grasp the fate of Italy?" cried the count, hotly; "must Rome and the Holy See be given up for ever to the arbitrary pleasure of the earlier Carbonari?"
"Not for ever," said the emperor; "if my power is re-established in Germany, if I succeed in overcoming the danger now threatening me, the Holy See will have a more powerful protector than I now could be,--and who knows?" he continued, with animation, "Germany won Lombardy in centuries gone by."
"Then all is lost!" cried the count involuntarily, in a sorrowful voice. He quickly overcame his feelings, and said, in his usual calm voice, "Is your majesty's decision irrevocable, or may I be permitted to urge some reasons against it?"
The emperor was silent for a moment.
"Speak!" he then said.
"Your majesty hopes," said the count, "to recover your defeat by the recall of the southern army; and by ceding Venetia--that is to say, Italy--to buy the alliance of France. According to my convictions both these hopes are deceitful."
The emperor looked at him with amazement and with great attention.
"The army of the south," continued the count, "will come much too late to be of any assistance; for your majesty has to oppose a foe who will never stand still and wait; the lamentable events from which we now suffer fully prove this. The French alliance, even if your majesty purchased it, will not be worth the price you give for it, for, as I before had the honour of assuring your majesty, France is unfit to undertake any military action."
The emperor was silent.
"At the same time," added the count, "in giving up Italy your majesty gives up a great principle, you recognize revolution--revolution against legitimate right, and against the Church. You withdraw the imperial house of Hapsburg from that mighty Ally who sits in judgment high above all earthly battle-fields and cabinets, and who orders the fate of prince and people after his Eternal will. Your majesty gives up the Church, your majesty gives up the Almighty Lord, whose fortress and weapon upon earth the Holy Church is."
The emperor sighed.
"But what shall I do?" he asked sorrowfully, "shall I permit the haughty foe to enter my capital? Can a fugitive prince be a protector of the Church?"
"Your imperial majesty's ancestors," said the count, "have flown from Vienna, and because they held firmly to the right and to the Eternal and All-powerful Ally of their house, they have been gloriously restored to their capital! Besides," he continued, "much lies between the enemy and Vienna. The enemy's army has suffered greatly, and Europe will guarantee that Vienna shall not be Prussian. France must resist, even without being bought--England--at this time even Russia. Let your majesty permit the victorious army in Italy under the illustrious archduke to press onwards, and in a short time Italy will be yours. Prussia's ally is annihilated, and Holy Church will raise her powerful voice for Austria and Hapsburg; this voice must be obeyed, in Bavaria, in Germany, yes, even in France it must be obeyed, and your majesty will rise with renewed strength. Let not your majesty leave your work uncompleted, that the other side may reap the benefit of what has been done; pursue your victory to the end, then its effects will repair this misfortune; do not sacrifice victory to defeat, but heal defeat by the brilliancy of your victory!"
The count spoke more warmly than before.
He had slightly raised his hand, and he stood in his wonderful beauty an image of convincing eloquence.
The emperor was much affected, his features showed a great struggle.
"And, upon the other side," proceeded the count, "if your majesty gives up Italy, if you throw all your strength towards the north, and if this sacrifice does not bring forth the fruit expected, where will you then find help and support?--enduring support and strong help? When you have once left the one road, when you have once parted from the One everlasting and unchanging Ally, the separation will grow greater and greater, it will become a cleft, and the power of the Church will no longer be employed on behalf of backsliding Austria. And let not the statesmen of the world despise this power," he cried, proudly drawing himself up; "if the chastening excommunication of the Vatican no longer hurls crowns from the heads of princes, and brings them in sackcloth and in tears to stand before the doors of the temple, the spirit and the words of the Church are still mighty and all-powerful in the world; and if its thunderbolt no longer shatters the rock, its rain-drops wear away the stone! Let your majesty ponder deeply before you separate from the Church."
The emperor's excited face flushed slightly; he raised his head, a proud flash gleamed in his eyes, and his lip was somewhat raised.
"Your majesty's imperial brother in Mexico," continued the count with energy, "wanders upon that dangerous path, he seeks his power in worldly aids, he has separated from the Church, he is but a plaything in the hand of Napoleon, and the path he has taken will lead him down deeper and deeper."