"His Grace the Duke of Friedland" was announced; and instantly the company sat or stood as if petrified.
Albrecht von Walstein entered, attired not plainly, but as became a magnifico of the Empire. There was violet velvet slashed with green silk and sewn with pearls, and all point devise. He made three obeisances as he approached the Emperor, and kissed his hand, then that of his consort. The Emperor bade him be seated.
"You have been long coming to Vienna, Duke, but seeing that you are here you are well-come. You have news?"
"Sire! I was but a few days since at Eger, where I have a poor dwelling-place, when I heard that the King of Sweden has left Frankfort, has marched to Werben, where the river Havel pours into the Elbe, and has there entrenched his army in a fortified camp. Brandenburg has given up Spandau and Custrin. We are shut off from the North."
The Emperor's face became a thought graver than usual. So did those of Father Lamormain and of Maximilian, who, leaving the Archduchess, drew near at a sign from the Emperor.
"How many men hath he?"
"My report says forty thousand, all veteran troops. Saxony and Brandenburg can raise another forty thousand between them."
"With a few reinforcements, Tilly and Pappenheim should be able to stay his march," said Maximilian.
To which Wallenstein said nothing. His rôle was the disinterested friend, the wealthy noble to whom war was of no moment.
For a moment there was a curious silence.