“Well, there are exceptions,” diplomatically replied St. Arnaud. “For my own part, I am very much obliged to the young lady for not giving me a good beating; she is perfectly capable of it, physically as well as morally.”
“And we are not unfortunate any longer,” cried Gavin, jumping into the cart, and giving the patient horse a whack. “We are free, we have money, we have this equipage!”
“Yes,” replied St. Arnaud gayly, “we will not trouble with post-chaises; we will travel the whole distance to Vienna in this blessed cart; we will make our entrée as conspicuously as possible. We will drive under the palace windows of the Empress Queen herself, and let her see us. Oh, we will make such an arrival into Vienna that it won’t be forgotten in a hurry!”
“We will! We will!” shouted Gavin, belabouring, in the excess of his joy, the poor horse; “and we won’t say anything about the fond adieu we had from Miss Bettina.”
Some weeks after this, on a brilliant winter morning, the last day of the year, all Vienna was astir for a great military review. The Empress Queen, undaunted by the disasters at Rosbach and Leuthen, had determined to renew the contest with her old enemy, the King of Prussia, at the earliest practicable moment; and to give heart to her army and people, she appeared constantly before them, reviewed her troops often, and showed undiminished confidence in them. She had, it is true, consented that her brother-in-law, the Archduke Charles, should be relieved of the command of the army, in deference to the popular will. But she, the most loyal sovereign in the world to all who had served her, took occasion to soften the blow to the Archduke Charles by appearing with him in public and treating him with a kindness that his courage and devotion merited, although he had been vanquished by the superior genius of the King of Prussia. She had, therefore, ordered a grand review of the household troops, with a number of veterans of the last campaign. It was a means she took of keeping up the courage of her people, as well as complimenting a loyal but unfortunate servant. When her enemies thought her nearest to ruin, then it was that Maria Theresa showed herself so superior to fear that she infused her own high courage into her army and her people. And for this reason, when her military fortunes were low, she chose rather to act as if disasters were mere mishaps, to be redeemed in another campaign.
The Viennese, who love pageants better than any other people in the world, were out early to see the spectacle, which did not begin until ten o’clock. Scarcely had the sun tipped the glorious tower of the cathedral of St. Stephen, and blazoned the long lines of windows in the Imperial Palace until they shone like molten gold, before the streets were thronged with citizens and people from the surrounding country. The Empress Queen had selected the broad and splendid plaza in front of the Imperial Palace from which to view the march past, and the multitudes poured toward the Stadt, through the narrow and tortuous streets which lead to this region of palaces, museums, and churches. The morning was clear, mild, and beautiful, and the gay Viennese had apparently forgotten the dreadful day of Rosbach and the terrible hours of Leuthen.
The sunny air resounded with martial music and the steady tread of marching feet of men and iron-shod hoofs of horses. Splendid coaches bearing ambassadors and ambassadresses rolled majestically through the streets. Great officers of state, resplendent in their orders and decorations, leaving their chariots wedged in the eager, curious, and noisy throng, made their way on foot to the palace doors. Military officers in glittering uniforms, with gorgeous horse trappings, dashed about on their spirited chargers. A blare of trumpets on the one hand was answered by the quick music of a military band on the other, and the air vibrated with the continuous clang of the fife and drum. It was the day of glory of the brave army, which, though defeated, stood ready to renew the conflict with its old enemy at the first signal. As the morning hours sped on toward ten o’clock the enthusiasm of the crowds increased. The prospect of seeing their Empress Queen in state always put the Viennese in a good humour, and the multitudes that packed the streets leading toward the palace were full of merriment and in the notion to be pleased with everything.
The approach of the troops was heralded with cheers that seemed to come from miles away, and followed them to the point where the head of the first column debouched before the palace. At the same moment a fanfare of silver trumpets from the trumpeters of the guard announced that the Empress Queen had left the palace. The great gates were thrown wide open, and the Imperial body-guard rode forth. This was a magnificent battalion of men, all mounted on coal-black horses, and wearing brass helmets and cuirasses that glittered in the dazzling light. After them came the Hungarian contingent, a people between whom and Maria Theresa a peculiar bond of affection subsisted. The people greeted these with imitations of the peculiarly wild and piercing cries of their country. Next rode the young archdukes, handsome lads, and superbly mounted. Last, appeared the Empress Queen, mounted upon a noble, iron-gray charger, with the Emperor Francis on her right and the Archduke Charles on her left.
Maria Theresa never looked more royal and imperial than when on horseback. She rode with exquisite grace, and her stately mien fitly indicated her brave spirit. Although then past her first youth and the mother of many children, she was still the most graceful princess in Europe; and maturity had not robbed her of her natural comeliness. Her eyes still shone with star-like brightness, and the colour mounted beautifully to her cheek when, after a moment’s sudden checking of noise, a roar of joyous cheering, of wild hand-clapping, and of military music clashed heavenward. She had then ridden briskly out upon the open space, where, under the splendid standards of the Empire, she bowed right and left, with an enchanting smile. Maria Theresa loved to be with her people, and was as happy to show herself to them as they were pleased to see her. The Emperor Francis, a handsome man of middle age, and his brother, the Archduke Charles, came in for their share of applause, and acknowledged it gracefully. But the Empress Queen had been for twenty years the darling of the people, and her husband and children were loved and applauded chiefly because they were hers.
The march past then began. First came a splendid body of cavalry, hussars, cuirassiers, and dragoons. The Hungarian contingent, led by their hetmans, was gorgeously picturesque, and as they waved their swords and lances in the air with wild grace the Empress Queen responded with a charming inclination of the heard. Maria Theresa had not forgotten that in her most perilous hour the loyalty of the Hungarians had saved her throne and country from the rapacity of Frederick. Next came the foot regiments, sturdy men who had withstood the shock of battle, and whose stained and tattered battle-flags showed what service they had seen. The field artillery, then a great novelty in warfare, followed, their long, bronze guns, cast with the Empress Queen’s crown and cipher in the metal, gleaming dully in the sunlight. So brilliant was the spectacle, that the hours sped away, and it was long after noon when the end of the last column appeared in view.