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.
CHAPTER XVII.
[DEFEAT].
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.