One foot was put forward—not a foot encased in a satin slipper, but a foot in a buckled shoe, which, glistening though it was with diamonds, was not that of an empress. The occupant of the carriage was a man!
"A man!" exclaimed the bystanders, astounded. Yes. Here he came, wrapped up in a bearskin, which, on this warm summer day, was enough to dissolve an ordinary human being into vapor. Not content with his wrapping, his hands were encased in a huge muff, which he held close to his face, that he might not inhale one single breath of the air that was refreshing everybody else. His head was covered by a hood which concealed his face, of which nothing was visible save a pair of light-blue eyes.
When he had disappeared within the palace doors, the footmen rolled up the carpet and replaced it on the coach-box.
The populace, who had been looking on in speechless wonder, now began to laugh and whisper. Some said it was the King of the North Pole; others declared it was an Arctic bear; others again thought the gentleman had started for Siberia and had lost his way. Finally the desire to know who he was grew uncontrollable, and, thronging around his lackeys, the people shouted out:
"Who is he? Tell us, who is be?"
The lackeys, with the gravity of heralds-at-arms, shouted out in return:
"This is his highness Prince Kaunitz, prime minister of their majesties the Empress Maria Theresa and the Emperor Joseph of Austria!"
CHAPTER LVIII.
KAUNITZ.
"What an abominable idea!" exclaimed Prince Kaunitz, as, perfectly exhausted from his journey, he fell into an armchair in his own room. "What an abominable idea to undertake this journey! These German roads are as rough and uncouth as the Germans themselves, and I only wonder that we have arrived without breaking our ribs!"