As her foot touched the first step, she raised her eyes with a look of despair to heaven, and her trembling lips murmured these words, "Catharine once more in chains!"
THE REIGN OF JOSEPH.
CHAPTER CXL.
THE OATH.
Maria Theresa was no more. On the 29th day of November, of the year 1780, she went to rejoin her much-loved "Franz"—him to whom her last words on earth were addressed. In her dying moments, her pale countenance illuminated by joy, the empress would have arisen from the arm-chair in which she sat awaiting her release. The emperor, who had devoted himself to her with all the tenderness of which hid nature was capable, held her bank.
"Whither would your majesty go?" asked he, terified.
Maria Theresa opened her arms, exclaiming, "To thee, to thee, I come!" Her head fell back, and her dying lips were parted ones more. Her son bent his head to catch the fluttering words, "Franz, my Franz—"
Maria Theresa was no more! The tolling of bells, and the roll of the muffled drum, announced to Vienna that the body of their beloved empress was being laid in the vault of the Capuchins, and that after so many years of parting, she rested once more by the side of the emperor.
The iron doors of the crypts were closed, and the thousands and tens of thousands who had followed the empress to her grave, had returned to their saddened homes. The emperor, too, followed by his confidants Lacy and Rosenberg, had retired to his cabinet. His face was inexpressibly sad, and he paced his room with folded arms, utterly forgetful of his friends, whom nevertheless he had requested to follow him, and who, both in the embrasure of a window, were silently awaiting the awakening of the emperor from his dumb grief.
At last he remembered their presence. Directing his steps toward the window he stood before them, and looked anxiously first at one, then at the other.