His eyes flew with the greatest anxiety over the lines. He turned deadly pale, and with his eyes still fixed on the paper he held in his hand, he sank upon the plain wooden chair before his writing-table. A short silence ensued, during which the emperor gasped for breath.
Count Mensdorff watched his imperial master with the greatest anxiety, but did not venture to interrupt the painful reflections in which he was plunged by the intelligence he had just received. At last the emperor roused himself.
"A despatch from Benedek!" he cried.
"And what does the Field-Marshal announce?" asked Count Mensdorff.
The emperor passed his hand over his brow. "He begs me to make peace at any price. The army is not in a condition to fight, as he will explain hereafter."
"Your majesty cannot believe that the Field-Marshal and I have conspired. If he does not believe the army equal to the war which is before us--he, the man trusted by public opinion"--Count Mensdorff said this with an almost imperceptible smile,--"then there must be a strong foundation for my belief."
The emperor sprang to his feet and hastily rang the golden bell which stood upon his writing-table. The gentleman-in-waiting entered.
"Prince Liechtenstein!" cried the emperor.
A moment afterwards the equerry on duty stood before him.
"Beg Count Crenneville to come immediately. Who is in the ante-room?"