"Come, let us play with them," exclaimed Leopoldine.
The princesses stepped arm in arm from the bay-window and hastened to the table. The little archduchesses and their brothers, it seemed, were engaged in a highly-interesting game, which their governesses were witnessing with smiling attention. They were standing about the large round table, on which a small army of wax figures in green and blue uniforms had been placed in neatly-arranged rows. At the head of this army stood a somewhat larger figure of the most revolting appearance. It was a little fellow with hunched shoulders, a rotund stomach and an unnaturally large head. The face was of a black-and-green color, and had eyes of a ferocious expression, and a tremendous mouth without lips, showing rows of ugly yellow teeth. This figure was dressed in a green uniform, with broad white facings, and on his head was a little cocked hat. Opposite this army of wax figures a row of small brass cannon was placed, and at their side lay diminutive bows, and arrows furnished with pins. The ammunition-wagons were filled with black peas.
The game had just commenced. The imperial children had opened the campaign against the hostile army of wax-figures. The little Archdukes Ferdinand and Francis Charles stood as gunners at the field-pieces, while the Archduchesses Caroline, Clementine, and Amelia, were armed with small bows. The gunners fired at the ranks of the soldiers; the archduchesses aimed at the terrible captain of the little army. Whenever an arrow hit him, or a cannon-ball struck down one of the soldiers, the children burst into loud cheers.
"What game is this?" asked Maria Louisa, contemplating with evident delight the blushing cheeks and bright eyes of her young brothers and sisters.
"That is the Bonaparte game," exclaimed little Archduke Francis Charles. "Papa emperor presented the game to me when we were at Ofen, and taught me how to play it. It is a long while since we played it, but to-day we will try it again. Look, sister Louisa, that horrible fellow in front of the soldiers is the villain Bonaparte, who is stealing the states of all the princes, he is made entirely of brass, and no arrow can injure him, but he has a vulnerable spot on the breast, where the heart is, that is made of wax. On shooting at him, you always have to aim there; if you hit it, the arrow remains, and you win the game and obtain the reward. Oh, I am well versed in the Bonaparte game; papa emperor was so gracious as to play it often with me at Ofen, when we were fleeing from that man; and his majesty taught me also how to insult Bonaparte. See, sisters!" and he took the little bow from the hands of the Archduchess Marianne, and laid an arrow on the string. "Now, you miserable fellow," he shouted in an angry voice and with flashing eyes, "now I will kill you without mercy! You thief, you stole Venice and Milan from us—you must die!" He discharged the arrow, but it glanced off from the figure.
"You missed him! you missed him!" shouted the little group.
"It is my turn now," exclaimed the little archduchess, taking the bow from her brother. She put an arrow on it, and, contracting her eyebrows and making her laughing little face assume an angry and menacing air, shouted, "Now tremble, you bad man! for I will put you to death because you drove us twice from Vienna, and frightened us so badly that you compelled us to escape, while you were enjoying yourself in our fine palaces. Yes, I will kill you, because you shot our soldiers and took our cannon. You are a wretch, a miserable thief, and I will now shoot you that you may no longer murder our men and expel our princes, you robber and assassin!" She discharged her arrow, but with no better success than the little archduke, and the laughter of her brothers and sisters punished her for her lack of skill.
"Why, this is a very pretty game," exclaimed the Archduchess Maria Louisa, laughing. "Come, Leopoldine, let us try it, and see whether we are able to hit the monster." The princesses sat down laughingly between the little archdukes, and each took one of the bows.
"Pray let me shoot first, dear sister," exclaimed Leopoldine, eagerly. "Look, my arrow lies already on the string. Now I will aim at you, miserable Bonaparte, and take revenge for all the sufferings you have brought upon us. Your last hour has come; fold your hands and pray, if you can. But you cannot pray, for you have a conscience burdened with crimes; you have sinned grievously against God by insulting and imprisoning His representative on earth. The Holy Father has excommunicated you for this, and you are accursed, delivered over to the tortures of hell, and every honest Christian turns away from the wretch against whom the bolt of excommunication has been hurled. You must die without confession and absolution—in the midst of your sins." She discharged the arrow, but, like those of her little brother and sister, it glanced from the figure and dropped at its feet.
The little archduchesses and princes, who, on hearing the imprecations uttered by their sister, had assumed a very grave air, felt as though they had been relieved of an oppressive burden, and burst into loud laughter.