The young officer opened it. His face expressed happy pride.

"On the staff of General Gablenz!" he cried joyfully.

"Where is the general?" he asked.

"In the Hotel zur Stadt Frankfurt, Herr Lieutenant."

"All right; I come!"

And with a quick step he hurried along the sh.o.r.es of the Danube, not dreamily, as he had come, but with head proudly raised, sparkling eyes, smiling lips, and his sword clattering on the pavement.

Suddenly he walked more slowly. A cloud pa.s.sed over his brow.

"I am to march out to this merry war at which every soldier's heart beats higher, and at the side of a general, whom every Austrian rider regards with pride and admiration, and yet--what a scarcely tasted happiness I leave behind--shall I ever find it more?"

Slower and slower grew his steps, until at last he stood quite still; and lost in thought he gazed into the Danube, where the bright lamps on the bridge were reflected.

"The shining light up there," he murmured, "below cold, grey death!"

With a hasty movement he awoke from his reverie. "What is love," he cried, "if it makes us sad and cowardly! No, my sweet lady, I will be thy brave proud knight, and thy talisman shall bring me honour."

He drew the rose from his breast and pressed it to his lips. Then he walked on with a quick merry step, and with laughing lips he hummed to himself--

"And had she not promised my life to be, No life would ever be won by me!"

CHAPTER VIII.

FRANCIS JOSEPH II.

The greatest activity prevailed in Vienna--in the vicinity of the Hofburg.[5] Aides-de-camp and orderlies came and went backwards and forwards to head-quarters, which were literally fringed with staff officers.

Although it was still early, only about eight o'clock, groups of inquisitive people stood here and there in the large court yard, and looked at each coming or going officer with the greatest anxiety, as if he must be the bearer of most important news.

Public feeling was highly excited. Every one knew that important events lowered like a tempest in the air, and that any moment might bring the dazzling flash, followed by the mighty thunder-clap, which would disperse the sultry fog.

The good citizens of Vienna were in a warlike mood. The press had for a long time increased their bitterness against Prussia, and on every side were heard angry expressions against the Northern power, and confident hopes of victory for the Austrian arms.

Had not Field-Marshal Benedek, the man of the soldiers--the man of the people, just been appointed commander-in-chief of the great Northern army? He would show what the Austrian army could do when taken out of the hands of the "Junker,"[6] and placed in those of a real working soldier.

Though these hopes were loudly expressed, no very joyful looks were to be seen on the faces of the people. It was the language of the lips rather than the heart; for deep in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the lively gesticulating speakers lurked many a doubt, which gave the lie to the words they uttered. It was a new foe whom they were to oppose--a foe untried since the Seven Years' War, and from that time traditionally feared--a foe, of whose wonderful military organization they had heard and read things that seemed almost fabulous.

But these doubts, however much they might be felt, were not openly expressed, they only served to increase the general oppression that weighed down the spirits of the people, and gave to merry, light-hearted Vienna a character of unusual earnestness.

Suddenly the conversation in the different groups was hushed, and all eyes turned towards the entrance gate of the Hofburg. Lieutenant Field-Marshal von Gablenz appeared, the general who from his brilliant valour and knightly bearing was the darling of the Viennese.

He walked firmly and gracefully into the courtyard, dressed in a grey close-fitting general's uniform, his breast adorned with numerous orders, the Cross of Maria Theresa around his neck, and a plumed hat upon the n.o.ble head, with its well-formed expressive features.

He was accompanied by Colonel von Bourguignon, the chief of his staff, two aides-de-camp, and by Lieutenant von Stielow, in the brilliant Uhlan uniform, rejoicing at the distinction of being so near to the celebrated general.

The crowd greeted von Gablenz as one whom they expected to fulfil their loudly spoken hopes, to give the lie to their hidden fears.

The general replied to their enthusiasm with a military salute, in a friendly but dignified way; he was aware of his popularity, he did not seek it, but accepted it as something which naturally belonged to him.

He pa.s.sed through the courtyard with his companions, entered by the large portal, and ascended the steps which lead to the emperor's apartments.

The door of the ante-room was opened for him by the door-keeper with a low inclination. Deep silence reigned in the lofty s.p.a.cious rooms, furnished with dark tables, high silken chairs, and heavy curtains hanging over enormous windows.

At the door which leads to the emperor's cabinet stood a life-guardsman in military position. The equerry on duty leant against a window-frame and looked down into the court-yard. He was a handsome young man, with short dark hair and moustache, and wore the simple dark-green uniform of the emperor's equerries, with the badge of a major; he advanced as the general entered, and saluted him.

Baron von Gablenz returned the greeting, and then especially saluted the life-guardsman, (each one of these holds the rank of captain, their own captain being Field-Marshal Count Wratislaw); he then held out his hand to the equerry.

"Well, dear Prince Liechtenstein, what have you all been doing in Vienna since I saw you last?"

"The clock of duty here pursues its everlasting round," returned the young prince: "we are not so fortunate as your excellency; we make no noise in the world, and are obliged to content ourselves with hearing of your valiant actions. You go to pluck fresh laurels----"

"Stop, my dear prince," interrupted the general; "we must not talk of laurels until they are won. But," he continued, "is his imperial majesty at leisure? I wish to be announced at once, and to return immediately to the army."

"Count Mensdorff has just gone in," returned the prince, "but he will be certain not to stay long, and as soon as he leaves I will announce you."

The general and Colonel von Bourguignon stepped into a window recess, whilst Prince Liechtenstein conversed with the aides-de-camp and Herr von Stielow.

Whilst this went on in the ante-room, the Emperor Francis Joseph stood before a large table covered with papers, books, and maps, in his well-lighted and simply furnished cabinet. He wore a comfortable loose grey overcoat after the Austrian military fashion. The expression of his face was very grave, and his hand rested lightly on the table, whilst he listened with deep interest to the statements of Count Mensdorff, who stood near him holding reports and despatches.

"That Prince Solms has not succeeded in effecting an alliance with King George of Hanover is most unfortunate," said the emperor: "we shall be unable to threaten the Prussians from that side, and we must do all we can to meet the whole of the enemy's forces in Bohemia, or let us hope in Saxony, for the decisive battle. Do you think an alliance between Hanover and Prussia is to be feared?"

"Certainly not, your majesty," returned Mensdorff; "the king will decline an alliance with Prussia, as with us. His Hanoverian majesty holds strictly to his neutrality, and will engage himself on neither side. I fear the king is placing himself in an isolated situation, which in his position, surrounded as he is by Prussian power, will prove most dangerous to his safety; yes, even to his crown."

"To his crown?" asked the emperor, raising his head.

"Your majesty," replied Mensdorff, "when the first cannon has been fired, Prussia will be utterly regardless of all national laws; and Hanover has long been the object of Prussian desires."

"So long as the sword of Austria is not shattered in my hand by the pitiless storm of war," cried the emperor proudly, "no German prince shall lose his crown."

Mensdorff was silent. The emperor paced the room hastily, and then stood again before his minister. "You do not believe in our success?"

he said, with a penetrating look at the count.

"Your majesty, I wear the uniform of an Austrian general, and I stand before my emperor on the eve of a mighty war, when all the banners of the Imperial States will be unrolled. How would it beseem me to doubt the success of the Austrian arms?"

The emperor tapped his foot on the ground. "That is no answer," said he, "I question not the general, but the minister."

"I would," returned Mensdorff, "that I stood as a general before your majesty, or rather before your enemies; then my heart would be lighter;" and he added, almost gloomily, "then I should have greater hopes of victory, at least I could give my life to obtain it. As a minister," he continued after a momentary pause, "I have already given your majesty my opinion, and I can only again express my most earnest wish--that it will please you to take from me this weighty responsibility, and permit me to draw the sword."

The emperor made no answer to the count's last request.