The great bell of St. Stephen's announced to her people that the empress was about to leave the palace. The folding-doors were flung open, and she appeared leaning on the arm of the emperor, followed by the princes, princesses, generals, and statesmen of her realms. Silently the ladies of honor ranged themselves on either side of the room to let the imperial family pass by. Maria Theresa's eyes glanced hastily around, and fell upon the pale, wan features of the Countess von Salmour.
All eyes now sought the face of the unhappy lady, whose sad mourning garments were in such striking contrast with the magnificent dresses of the ladies around her.
"Madame von Salmour," said the empress, "I dispense you from your duties for this day. You need not accompany the court to church."
The countess courtesied deeply, and replied: "Your majesty is right to excuse me; for had I gone with the court to church, I might have been tempted to utter treason to Heaven against the oppressors of my country."
The company were aghast at the audacity of the rejoinder, but the empress replied with great mildness:
"You are right; for the temptation would indeed be great, and it is noble of you to speak the truth. I respect your candor."
She was about to pass on, but paused as if she had forgotten something.
"Is the Countess Wielopolska in Vienna?" asked she.
"She arrived yesterday, your majesty."
"Go to her while we are at church." said Maria Theresa, compassionately.