"You may thank fortune for your headache yesterday. It was my turn to accompany the empress to the chapel, and we stayed so long that the Archduchess Elizabeth told me that toward the end her senses began to fail her, and she was scarcely able to utter the responses. How is the Archduchess Marianna to-day?"
"Her highness," whispered the first lady, "is too sensible to recover in a hurry. The wound in her cheek has reopened, and she really suffers a great deal at present. But she bears her pain with great fortitude. Yesterday the English ambassador was paying her a visit of condolence, and as he was expressing his sympathy, the archduchess interrupted him with a laugh. 'Believe me,' said she, 'for a princess of forty, who is an old maid, even a hole in her own cheek is a godsend. Nothing that varies the dull uniformity of my life comes amiss.'" [Footnote: The archduchess's own words. See "Courts of Europe at the Close of the Last Century," by Henry Swinburne, vol. i., p. 342.]
Both ladies tittered, but perceiving that the empress was turning her head, they resumed their sanctimonious faces, and folded their hands.
"Was it you, ladies," said Maria, Theresa, with severity, "who were interrupting our solemn silence by frivolous whisperings?"
"Yes, your majesty," replied the first lady of honor. "We were preparing ourselves for prayer by edifying conversation."
The empress smiled kindly upon the speaker. "I know that you are inclined to religion," said she, "and I am glad that you have had so good an influence over the Countess Julia, for she is not wont to be too zealous at prayer. I will remember you both for your piety, dear children and will see that you are both well married. There is the young Baron of Palmoden and Count—",
But the empress, who, in her darling schemes of marriage, had forgotten for a moment whither they were going, suddenly crossed herself, saying, "Forgive me, ladies; let us hasten our steps."
On this day the empress remained for three hours in the chapel, and while her attendants, worn out by ennui, were some sleeping, or others whispering to keep themselves awake, Maria Theresa, before the altar, was on her knees, praying with all the fervor of her honest and believing soul. As she prayed, she heaved many a sigh, and many a tear fell unheeded from her eyes upon her tightly-clasped hands.
Certainly her prayers proved consolatory, for when they were ended, she rose from her knees, calm and resolved. As she reached the door of her own room, she turned to her favorite daughter. "Is your heart still disconsolate, Christina`?" said she, with a look of supreme tenderness.
"How can it be otherwise, my mother?" said Christina, sobbing. "Has not my cruel and avaricious brother forced my husband into this wicked war? Oh, dearest mother, if you would but speak the word, Albert might be relieved from the disgraceful contingency of appearing in arms against his native land! He has no alternative, he must either become a traitor to his own country, or perjure himself by deserting his colors. Oh, your majesty, have mercy upon your subjects, and force the rapacious emperor to forego his unjust claims, and obey your imperial commands!"