CHAPTER CXLI.

PRINCE KAUNITZ.

For three days Prince Kaunitz had not left his cabinet. No one was allowed to approach him, except the servant who brought the meals, which the prince sent away almost untouched. His household were sorely troubled at this, for no one had as yet ventured to communicate the tidings of the empress's death. Still he seemed to know it, for precisely on the day of her demise, Kaunitz had retired to his cabinet, whence he had not emerged since.

To-day the tolling of bells and the dull sound of muffed drums had doubtless revealed to him that the funeral was at hand. Still he had questioned nobody, and sat in stupid silence, apparently unmindful of the tumult without. Even when the procession passed his own house, he remained rigidly in his chair, his large eyes glaring vacantly at the wall opposite.

Baron Binder, who had noiselessly entered the room, and had been watching the prince, saw two large tears rolling slowly down his face, and the sight of these tears emboldened him to approach the solitary mourner.

When he saw Binder, his lips quivered slightly, but he made no other sign. Binder laid his hand upon the shoulder of the prince, and felt a start.

"Take compassion upon us who love you," said he, in a low, trembling voice. "Tell us what it is that grieves you, dear friend."

"Nothing," replied Kaunitz.

"This is the first time that I have ever known your highness to speak an untruth," cried Binder, boldly. "Something grieves you; if not--why those blanched cheeks, those haggard eyes, and the tears that even now are falling upon your hands?"

Prince Kaunitz moved uneasily, and slowly turned his head.

"Who gave you the right to criticise my behavior?" asked he, in a freezing tone of displeasure. "Does it become such as you to measure or comprehend the sufferings of a great mind? If it pleases you to parade your troubles go out and ask sympathy of the contemptible world, but leave to me the freedom of sorrowing alone: My grief is self-sustaining.

It needs no prop and no consolation. Attend to your affairs of state, and go hence. I wish no spies upon my actions."

"Ah!" said Binder, tenderly, "'tis not my eyes that have acted the spies, but my heart, and--"

"Baron Binder," interrupted Kaunitz, "you are not under this roof to dissect my sentiments, or to confide to me your own; you are here to assist me as a statesman. Go, therefore, and confine your efforts to the business of your office."

Binder heaved a sigh, and obeyed. It was useless to offer sympathy when it provoked such stinging resentment.

The state referendarius had scarcely reached his study, before the folding-doors of Prince Kaunitz's entrance-rooms were flung wide open, and the valet in attendance announced--

"His majesty the emperor."

A shudder was perceptible through the frame of the prince, and he clutched at the arms of the chair in an attempt to rise.

"Do not rise," said Joseph, coming forward; "I have intruded myself upon you without ceremony, and you must receive me in like manner."

Kaunitz sank back, and inclined his head. He had not the power to make a reply. Joseph then motioned to the valet to withdraw, and drew a chair to the prince's side.

There was a short silence and the emperor began: "I bring you greetings from my mother."

Kaunitz turned and gazed at the emperor with a look of indescribable anguish. "Her last greeting," said he, almost inaudibly.

"You know it, then? Who has been bold enough to break this sad intelligence to you?"

"No one, your majesty. For three days I have received no bulletins. When they ceased, I knew that--Maria Theresa was no more."

"Since you know it, then, my friend, I am relieved from a painful task.

Yes, I bring you the last greetings of a sovereign who loved you well. "

A sigh, which was rather a sob, indicative of the inner throes that were racking the statesman's whole being, burst from his heart. His head fell upon his breast, and his whole body trembled. Joseph comprehended the immensity of his grief, and made no ineffectual attempt to quell it.

"I know," said he, "that you grieve, not only for her children, but for Austria."

"I grieve for you--I grieve for Austria--and, oh! I grieve for myself,"

murmured Kaunitz.

"You have been a faithful friend to my mother," continued Joseph, "and the empress remembered it to her latest hour. She bade me remind you of the day on which you dedicated your life to Austria's welfare. She told me to say to you that the departure of your empress had not released you. It had increased your responsibilities, and she expected of you to be to her son what you have ever been to her, a wise counsellor and a cherished friend. Do you accept the charge and transfer the rich boon of your services to me?"

The prince opened his lips, but not a sound came forth. For the second time an expression of agony fluttered over his face, and no longer able to control his feelings, he burst into tears. The sight so moved the emperor, that he, too, shed tears abundantly.

Kaunitz gradually recovered himself. With an impatient movement he dashed away the last tears that had gathered in his eyes, and dried his moist cheeks with his delicate cambric handkerchief. He was himself again.

"Pardon me, your majesty," said he, respectfully inclining his head.

"You see how grief has mastered me. I have behaved like a child who is learning his first difficult lesson of self-control. Forgive this momentary weakness, and I promise that you shall never see me so overwhelmed as long as I live."

The emperor, with an affectionate smile, pressed the old statesman's hand. "I have nothing to forgive, dear prince. I have to thank you for permitting me to view the penetralia of a great man's heart. And still more have I to thank you for the sincerity with which you have loved Maria Theresa. I accept it as a pledge of your obedience to her last wishes. May I not?"

Kaunitz looked up, and answered with firmness, "Sire, this is the hour of unreserve, and I will speak the unvarnished truth. I have been expecting the last greeting of my empress, and had I not received her command to serve your majesty, I should have known that Austria had need of me no more, and ere long I would have followed my peerless mistress to the grave."

"How! you would have laid violent hands upon your life?"

"Oh, no, sire--I would simply have starved to death; for I never could have tasted food again, had I once obtained the conviction that I had become superannuated and useless. Your majesty has saved my life, for I have eaten nothing since she--went; and, now, since I must still live for Austria, let me implore you to forget what you have seen of me to-day. If I have ever served Austria, it has been in virtue of the mask which I have always worn over my heart and features. Let me resume it then, to wear it for life. Had we worn our political mask a little longer, Frederick would not have foiled us in our Bavarian projects. We must beware of him, old though he be, for he is a shrewd, far-seeing diplomatist."

"Oh, I do not fear his prying propensities!" cried Joseph. "Let him watch our proceedings--and much good may it do him. He will see a new order of things in Austria. Will you stand by me, prince, and lend me a helping hand until my stately edifice is complete?"

"Your edifice, above all things, will need to be upon a secure foundation. It must be fast as a mountain, behind which we can intrench ourselves against the stormings of the clergy and the nobility."

The emperor gave a start of joyful surprise. "You have guessed my projects of reform, and I have not yet uttered a word!"

"I had guessed them long ago, sire, I had read them more than once upon your countenance when priests and nobles were by; and I triumphed in secret, as I thought of the day that was to come, when you would be the sole arbiter of their destinies."

"The day has come! it has come!" exclaimed Joseph, exultingly. "Now shall begin the struggle in church and convent, in palace and castle; and we shall shake off ambitious prelates and princes as the lion does the insect that settles upon his mane!"

"Let the lion beware, for the insect bears a sting, and the sting bears poison!"

"We shall rob it of its sting before we rob it of its treasures. And whence comes the sting of these troublesome gnats? It resides in the riches of the church and the privileges of the nobles. But the noble shall bow his haughty head to my laws, and the church shall yield up her wealth. The lord of the soil shall come down to the level of his serf, and by the eternal heavens above me, the priest shall he made as homeless as Christ and His apostles!"

"If your majesty can compass this, your people will adore you as a second Messiah."

"I will do it! I will free my people from bondage, and if I am made to die the death of the cross, I shall exult in my martyrdom," exclaimed Joseph, with flashing eyes. "The internal administration of Austria calls for reform. The empire over which I am to reign must be governed according to my principles. Religious prejudices, fanaticism, and party spirit must disappear, and the influence of the clergy, so cherished by my mother, shall cease now and forever. Monks and nuns shall quit their idle praying, and work like other men and women; and I shall turn the whole fraternity of contemplatives into a body of industrious burghers."

[Footnote: This whole conversation is historical. The expressions are those of the emperor. See "Letters of Joseph II.," p. 98.]

"Oh, sire," exclaimed Kaunitz, "your words affright me. Bethink you that you throw the brand of revolt among a numerous and influential class."

"We will strip them of their armor, and so they shall become innoxious,"

"Gracious Heaven!" ejaculated Kaunitz, "your majesty, will--"