"Do you not see how deeply I suffer, when I have no spirit to chide your hard words to me? It is because I comprehend your sorrow, poor child, that I forgive your injustice. And now, to prove my sincerity," added she, going to her escritoire and taking from it a letter, "read this! I was about to send it to Prince Kaunitz when your visit caused me to forget it. Read it aloud, that I may know whether you understand me at last."
The countess unfolded the letter and read:
"When my own empire was threatened, and I knew not where to lay my head; when the sorrows of childbirth were overtaking me, I threw myself upon God and my just rights. But to-day, when humanity, justice, ay—reason itself, cry aloud against our acts, I confess to you that my anxiety transcends all that I have ever suffered in my life before. Tell me, Prince Kaunitz, have you thought of the evil example we are giving to the nations of earth, when, for the sake of a few acres of additional territory, we cast away our reputation, our dignity, and our honor?
"If I yield to-day, it is because I struggle alone, and no longer have the vigor of mind to contend for right, as in years gone by I would have done. I am overpowered, but I surrender with a bleeding heart." [Footnote: This letter was written by Maria Theresa's own hand. See Hormayer, "Pocket History of Our Native Land," 1831, p. 66.]
The countess remained looking at the parer for a time, then she raised her tearful eyes to the face of the empress. "I thank your majesty," said she, deeply moved, "for allowing me to see this letter. It will remain in history as a noble monument of Maria Theresa's rectitude. I have no longer a word of blame for you; and once again, in love and reverence, I kiss this hand, although I know that to-day it must sign the death-warrant of unhappy Poland."
She drew near, and raised the hand of the empress to her lips. But Maria Theresa threw her arms around the countess, exclaiming: "To my heart, dear, unhappy one! I cannot save Poland, but I can weep with her loveliest and noblest daughter!"
The countess, overcome by this unexpected tenderness, leaned upon the bosom of the empress, and wept. Maria Theresa stroked her lustrous black hair, and, as she kissed her marble cheek, the tears that had gathered in her eyes, fell upon the head of the countess, where they glittered like stars upon the darkness of the night.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
FINIS POLONIE.
Neither saw the door open; but both heard a soft, melodious voice, saying: "Pardon me, your majesty, I thought you were alone."