The emperor approached, and tenderly strove to lift his mother, while he lavished words of love and comfort upon her. She allowed him to lead tier to a divan, where gradually the tempest of her grief gave place to deep-drawn sighs, and, finally, to peace. The crisis, however, was long and terrible, for the affections of Maria Theresa were as strong as her will; and fierce had been the conflict between the two.
For some time a deep silence reigned throughout the room. Finally, the empress raised her eyes and said, "You will speak the truth, both of you, will you not?"
"We will, your majesty," replied the emperor and Van Swieten.
"Then, Joseph, say—are my children well and safe?"
"They are, my dearest mother, and but for the doctor's prohibition, both would have accompanied us thither."
Maria Theresa then turned to the physician. "Van Swieten," said she, "you, too, must swear to speak the truth. I have something to ask of you also."
"I swear, your majesty," replied Van Swieten.
"Then say if I am the cause of my daughter's death. Do not answer me at once. Take time for reflection, and, as Almighty God hears us, answer me conscientiously."
There was a pause. Nothing was heard save the heavy breathing of the empress, and the ticking of the golden clock that stood upon the mantel. Maria Theresa sat with her head bowed down upon her hands; before her stood Joseph, his pale and noble face turned toward the physician, and his eyes fixed upon him with an expression of deepest entreaty. Van Swieten saw the look and answered it by a scarcely perceptible motion of his head.
"Now, speak, Van Swieten," said the empress, raising her head, and looking him full in the face." Was Josepha's visit to the chapel-vault the cause of her death?"