There was a short silence and the emperor began: "I bring you greetings from my mother."
Kaunitz turned and gazed at the emperor with a look of indescribable anguish. "Her last greeting," said he, almost inaudibly.
"You know it, then? Who has been bold enough to break this sad intelligence to you?"
"No one, your majesty. For three days I have received no bulletins. When they ceased, I knew that—Maria Theresa was no more."
"Since you know it, then, my friend, I am relieved from a painful task.
Yes, I bring you the last greetings of a sovereign who loved you well. "
A sigh, which was rather a sob, indicative of the inner throes that were racking the statesman's whole being, burst from his heart. His head fell upon his breast, and his whole body trembled. Joseph comprehended the immensity of his grief, and made no ineffectual attempt to quell it.
"I know," said he, "that you grieve, not only for her children, but for
Austria."
"I grieve for you—I grieve for Austria—and, oh! I grieve for myself," murmured Kaunitz.
"You have been a faithful friend to my mother," continued Joseph, "and the empress remembered it to her latest hour. She bade me remind you of the day on which you dedicated your life to Austria's welfare. She told me to say to you that the departure of your empress had not released you. It had increased your responsibilities, and she expected of you to be to her son what you have ever been to her, a wise counsellor and a cherished friend. Do you accept the charge and transfer the rich boon of your services to me?"
The prince opened his lips, but not a sound came forth. For the second time an expression of agony fluttered over his face, and no longer able to control his feelings, he burst into tears. The sight so moved the emperor, that he, too, shed tears abundantly.