THE CONFERENCE.
Great excitement prevailed at Neustadt. All work was suspended, all the
shops were shut, and although it was not Sunday, the people, in their
holiday attire, seemed to have cast away all thought of the wants,
cares, and occupations of everyday life. For, although it was not
Sunday, it was a holiday--a holiday for Neustadt, since this was the
birthday of Neustadt's fame. For hundreds of years the little village
had existed in profound obscurity, its simple inhabitants dreaming away
their lives far from the clamor of the world and its vicissitudes. Their
slumbers had been disturbed by the Seven Years' War, and many a father,
son, husband, and lover had fought and fallen on its bloodthirsty
battlefield. But with the return of peace came insignificance, and
villagers of Neustadt went on dreaming as before.
Today, however, on the 3d of September, in the year 1770, they were
awakened by an event which gave to Neustadt a place in history. The two
greatest potentates in Germany were to meet there to bury their past
enmity, and pledge to each other the right hand of fellowship.
These two potentates were the Emperor of Austria and the King of
Prussia. It was, therefore, not surprising that all Neustadt should be
out of doors to witness the baptism of Neustadt's celebrity.
The streets were thronged with well-dressed people, the houses were hung
with garlands and wreaths, the church-bells were ringing, and all the
dignitaries of the town had turned out to witness the pageant.
And now the moment had arrived. The thunder of cannon, the shouts of the
people who thronged the avenue that led to the palace, and the clang of
martial music, announced the approach of the emperor, whom his people
were frantic to welcome.
He came, a young man, on a jet-black Arabian, who rode ahead of those
glittering nobles--this was the Emperor Joseph, the hope of Austria.
A thousand voices rent the air with shouts, while Joseph smiled, and
bowed, and raised his eyes to the balconies, whence showers of bouquets
were falling around him.
He was inclining his head, when a wrest, of red roses and
orange-flowers, aimed by some skilful hand, fell directly upon his
saddle-bow. He smiled, and taking up the wreath, looked around to see
whence it came. Suddenly his eye brightened, and his countenance
expressed increased interest, while he reined in his horse that he might
look again at a lady who was leaning over a balcony just above him. Her
tall and elegant figure was clothed in a dress of black velvet, closed
from her white throat to her round waist by buttons of large and
magnificent diamonds, whose brilliancy was almost dazzling. Her youthful
and beautiful face was colorless, with that exquisite and delicate
pallor which has no affinity to ill-health, but resembles the spiritual
beauty of a marble statue. Her glossy black hair defined the exquisite
oval of that fair face, as a rich frame sets off a fine painting. On her
head she wore a diadem of brilliants, which confined a rich black-lace
veil, that fluttered like a dark cloud around her graceful figure. Her
countenance wore an expression of profound sadness, and her large,
lustrous eyes were riveted with an earnest gaze upon the emperor.
He bowed to his saddle-bow, but she did not seem to recognize the
compliment, for her glance and her sadness were unchanged.
"The wreath is not from her," thought Joseph, with a feeling of
disappointment; but as he turned for one more look at her lovely face,
he remarked a bouquet which she wore in her bosom. It was similar to the
wreath which he held. The same white orange-blossoms and red roses,
fastened together by the same white and red ribbon, whose long streamers
were now fluttering in the wind.
A triumphant smile overspread the features of the emperor, as blushing,
he bowed again and passed on. But his face no longer wore its expression
of careless gratification. He grew absent and thoughtful; he forgot to
return the greetings of the people; and vainly the ladies, who crowded
window and balcony, threw flowers in his way, or waved their
handkerchiefs in greeting. He saw nothing but the beautiful vision in
the black veil, and wondered whence she came and what could be the
hidden meaning of the red and white flowers which she wore and gave to
him.
He was glad when the pageant of his entry into Neustadt was over, and,
dismounting quickly, he entered the palace, followed by Field-Marshal
Lacy and Count Rosenberg.
The people looked after them and shouted anew. But their attention was
directed from the emperor to a carriage, drawn by four horses, which,
advancing in the very centre of the brilliant cortege, seemed to contain
some imperial personage, for the staff were around it, as though forming
its escort. The curtains of the carriage were all drawn, so that nothing
could be seen of its occupant.
Who could it be? A woman, of course; since no man would dare to be
driven, while the Emperor of Austria rode. It could be no other than the
Empress Maria Theresa, who had taken the journey to Neustadt, that she
might look, face to face, upon her celebrated opponent, and offer him
her own hand in pledge of future good understanding.
While the populace hoped and speculated, the mysterious equipage arrived
before the palace gates. The rich-liveried footmen sprang from the
rumble, and stationed themselves at the door of the coach. The two
others, who were seated on the box, did likewise; bringing with them, as
they alighted on the ground, a roll of rich Turkey carpeting, which they
laid, with great precision, from the carriage to the palace steps.
Then the people were convinced that it was the empress. Who but the
sovereign lady of Austria and Hungary would walk the streets upon a
carpet of such magnificence? And they thronged nearer, eager to catch
the first glance of their beloved and honored empress.
The carpet was laid without a wrinkle. One of the footmen opened the
carriage door, while another approached the fore-wheel.
"She comes! she comes!" cried the populace, and they crowded around in
eager delight.
One foot was put forward--not a foot encased in a satin slipper, but a
foot in a buckled shoe, which, glistening though it was with diamonds,
was not that of an empress. The occupant of the carriage was a man!
"A man!" exclaimed the bystanders, astounded. Yes. Here he came, wrapped
up in a bearskin, which, on this warm summer day, was enough to dissolve
an ordinary human being into vapor. Not content with his wrapping, his
hands were encased in a huge muff, which he held close to his face, that
he might not inhale one single breath of the air that was refreshing
everybody else. His head was covered by a hood which concealed his face,
of which nothing was visible save a pair of light-blue eyes.
When he had disappeared within the palace doors, the footmen rolled up
the carpet and replaced it on the coach-box.
The populace, who had been looking on in speechless wonder, now began to
laugh and whisper. Some said it was the King of the North Pole; others
declared it was an Arctic bear; others again thought the gentleman had
started for Siberia and had lost his way. Finally the desire to know who
he was grew uncontrollable, and, thronging around his lackeys, the
people shouted out:
"Who is he? Tell us, who is be?"
The lackeys, with the gravity of heralds-at-arms, shouted out in return:
"This is his highness Prince Kaunitz, prime minister of their majesties
the Empress Maria Theresa and the Emperor Joseph of Austria!"