The archduchesses had not yet perceived their mother's absence, when Count Dietrichstein, on the part of the emperor, came forward, and whispered a few words to each one of them. Precisely as their mother had done the princesses rose, and without apology retired together.
The company started, and whispered and wondered what could have happened to discompose the imperial family; but no one present was competent to solve the mystery.
Meanwhile Maria Theresa had retired to her cabinet, where she met Prince Kaunitz, furred like a polar bear, by way of protection from the temperature of the palace, which was always many degrees below zero, as indicated by the thermometer of his thin, bloodless veins. The minister was shaking with cold, although he had buried his face in a muff large enough to have been one of his own cubs. The empress returned his greeting with an agitated wave of her hand, and seated herself in an arm-chair at the large round table that always stood there.
Exhausted by the unusual haste with which she had walked as well as by the excitement, which, in her old age, she was physically inadequate to bear, she leaned back to recover her breath. Opposite stood the emperor, who, with a wave of his hand, motioned to Kaunitz to enter also.
Maria Theresa's large eyes were fixed upon him at once.
"Is it true." said she. "that the Elector of Bavaria is dead?"
"Yes, your majesty," said Kaunitz. "Maximilian reigns no longer in
Bavaria. Here are the dispatches from our ambassador at Munich."
He held them out, but the empress put them back, saying:
"I am not sufficiently composed to read them. Give them to my son, and have the goodness to communicate their contents to me verbally."
The face of Kaunitz grew pale, as he turned with the dispatches to the emperor. The latter at once comprehended the prince's agitation, and smiled.