"Let me hold her dear hands," said he, kissing them again and again.
The doctor held up the little hand he had taken, which, first as white as fallen snow, was now empurpled with disease. He turned it over, looked into the palm, opened the fingers, and examined them closely.
"Doctor, in mercy, speak!" said the agonized husband. "Do you not see that I shall die before your eyes, unless you promise that she shall live!"
The empress prayed no longer. When she saw how Van Swieten was examining the fingers of the archduchess, she uttered a stifled cry, and hiding her head with her hands, she wept silently. At the foot of the bed knelt the attendants, all with their tearful eyes lifted to the face of him who would promise life or pronounce death. Van Swieten gently laid down the hand of his patient, and opened her dress over the breast. As though he had seen enough, he closed it quickly and stood erect.
His eyes were now fixed upon Joseph with an expression of deep and painful sympathy. "Speak," said Joseph, with trembling lips, "I have courage to hear."
"It is my duty to speak," replied Van Swieten, "my duty to exact of her majesty and of your highness to leave the room. The archduchess has the small-pox."
Maria Theresa sank insensible to the floor. From the anteroom where he was waiting the emperor heard the fall, and hastening at the sound, he bore his wife away.
Joseph, meanwhile, sat as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt.
"Archduke Joseph," cried Van Swieten, "by the duty you owe to your country and your parents I implore you to leave this infected spot."
Joseph raised his head, and a smile illumined his pale face. "Oh," cried he, "I am a happy man; I have had the small-pox! I at least can remain with her until she recovers or dies."