The fight had drawn nearer; the insurgents were cannonading the imperialists from the ramparts with their long-range guns; we stood in the Place of St. Stephen's, and gazed eagerly at the summit of the tower.
Suddenly a great stillness fell on the crowd. By what mysterious means the knowledge of the evil news spread from the mind of one man to another I cannot say, but certain it is the cheers and flag-waving stopped before the vast majority of the crowd even knew that Messenhauser had sent down his third note.
A yell of rage and disappointment greeted the reading of the message.
Rakoczy's good sense had proved superior to our boasting: the Hungarians were in full retreat.
The news produced a startling effect on the Viennese. Obedience to any power came to an end; the reign of disorder began.
Shops were looted and private residences sacked; furniture was thrown into the streets, and the owners were assaulted; the town went mad.
I thought of the Baroness von Arnstein and her pretty daughter; and Rakoczy, guessing at the cause of my gloomy face, proposed that we should go round to their house.
"Von Arnstein is known to be with the army," he said, "and it is just possible the worthy citizens may wreak their vengeance on his family."
We found the ladies at home, and very glad they were to see us.
In spite of her pride, the elder lady showed signs of fear--not so much, I think, on her own account as on her daughter's.