“And what are you going to do in Vienna?” asked Gentz, evasively. “Is it a mere pleasure-trip?”
“If another man should put that question to me, I should reply in the affirmative, but to you I am going to prove by my entire sincerity that I really believe you to be a devoted friend of mine. No, it is no pleasure-trip. I accompany the prince to Vienna because he wants to get there instructions from Baron Thugut and learn what is to be done at Rastadt.”
“Ah, at Rastadt—at the peace congress,” exclaimed Gentz. “The emperor has requested the states of the empire to send plenipotentiaries to Rastadt to negotiate there with France a just and equitable peace. Prussia has already sent there her plenipotentiaries, Count Goertz and Baron Dohm. Oh, I should have liked to accompany them and participate in performing the glorious task to be accomplished there. That congress at Rastadt is the last hope of Germany; if it should fail, all prospects of a regeneration of the empire are gone. That congress will at last give to the nation all it needs: an efficient organization of the empire, a well-regulated administration of justice, protection of German manufactures against British arrogance, and last, but not least, freedom of the press, for which the Germans have been yearning for so many years.”
Marianne burst into a loud fit of laughter. “Oh, you enthusiastic visionary!” she said, “but let us speak softly, for even the walls must not hear what I am now going to tell you.”
She bent over the table, drawing nearer to Gentz, and fixing her large, flaming eyes upon him, she asked in a whisper, “I suppose you love Germany? You would not like to see her devoured by France as Italy was devoured by her? You would not like either to see her go to decay and crumble to pieces from inherent weakness?”
“Oh, I love Germany!” said Gentz, enthusiastically. “All my wishes, all my hopes belong to her. Would to God I could say some day, all my talents, my energy, my perseverance are devoted to my fatherland—to Germany!”
“Well, if you really desire to be useful to Germany,” whispered Marianne, “hasten to Rastadt. If Germany is to be saved at all, it must be done at once. You know the stipulations of the treaty of Campo Formio, I suppose?”
“I only know what every one knows about them.”
“But you do not know the secret article. I will tell you all about it. Listen to me. The secret article accepted by the emperor reads as follows: ‘The emperor pledges himself to withdraw his troops from Mentz, Ehrenbreitstein, Mannheim, Konigstein, and from the German empire in general, twenty days after the ratification of the peace, which has to take place in the course of two months.’” [Footnote: Schlosser’s “History of the Eighteenth Century,” vol. v., p. 43.]
“But he thereby delivers the empire to the tender mercies of the enemy,” exclaimed Gentz, in dismay. “Oh, that cannot be! No German could grant and sign such terms without sinking into the earth from shame. That would be contrary to every impulse of patriotism—”