"That cannot be, captain. The privy purse of the empress, which, in the goodness of her heart, was thrown indiscriminately to all who asked for alms, this purse exists no longer. It has a large hole in it, and its contents have all run out."

The old hussar gave a grim look to the emperor, and raised his peruke.

Pointing with his finger to three wide, purple scars upon his head, he said:

"Sire, my head is somewhat in the condition of your privy-purse, it has several holes in it. They were made by your majesty's enemies."

"To stop such holes as those is my sacred duty," said Joseph, smiling, "and enough remains yet in the bottom of the privy-purse to satisfy the wants of a brave officer, who has served me to his own prejudice.

Forgive my refusal. The petition which you wear on your head is more eloquent than words, and your pension shall be returned to you."

"I thank your majesty," said the captain, and with another stiff salute, he marched out.

The emperor looked after him, laughing heartily.

As he disappeared, a pale, delicate woman came forward, accompanied by several young children, two of which were hiding their heads in her skirt. The group filed up the door like a picture, and the children clung so to the pallid mother that she could not advance a step.

"As you cannot come to me, I will go to you," said the emperor, contemplating them with a benevolent smile. "Give me your petition, madam."

"These are my petitions, your majesty," said the woman pointing to her children. "My husband served for many years in the twelfth regiment, and died of the wounds he received in the Bavarian war. He left me nothing but these orphans."

The emperor looked kindly at the little golden heads that were peeping from among the folds of their mother's dress, and a cloud came over his face. "You grieve for your poverty, poor woman," said he, "and know not how I envy your riches. How many millions would I give if one of those children were mine! Children are a great blessing."

"Yes, sire, when they have fathers to work for them."

"I will be their father," said Joseph, and at the sound of these loving words, the children raised their bashful heads, to steal a look at the speaker. "Come, boys," continued he, offering his hand, "will any of you be soldiers?"

"Yes, yes," replied the two eldest, standing erect and making the military salute.

"That is right. You are brave fellows, and if you behave well, you shall belong to my body-guard.--Come to-morrow," continued he to the mother, "and the lord-chancellor will attend to the maintenance and education of your four eldest. Meanwhile, you shall have a pension for yourself and the youngest. In a few years I will do as much for the little one there.

Be punctual in your visit to the chancery. You will be received at ten o'clock."

"God reward your majesty!" faltered the happy mother. "Oh, my children, my dear children, the emperor is the father of the orphan! Reward your gracious sovereign by being good, and pray for him with all your hearts!"

With these words the woman courtesied and withdrew, and the audience for that day was at an end.

"And pray for him with all your hearts," whispered the emperor. "May God hear the petitions of these innocents! Perchance they may weigh against the curses of others. They are the little roses which I sometimes find beneath my crown of thorns. But away with sentiment! I have no time to indulge in heart-reveries. My vocation is to work. Here is a portfolio filled with petitions. Gunther must help me to examine them."

He rang the bell, and Gunther seated himself and went to work.

Meanwhile, the emperor had taken up one of the papers and was reading it. Suddenly he put it down and began to laugh.

"Listen, Gunther," said he, "listen to this touching appeal. One of the discharged counselors orders me to give him a larger pension that he may live in a manner befitting his position. Now hear the conclusion of the petition. 'Our emperor is a poor callow mouse.'" [Footnote: Hubner, i., p. 199.]

"And your majesty can laugh at such insolence!" exclaimed Gunther, coloring with indignation.

"Yes, I do," replied Joseph. "Nothing can be franker and more to the point."

"And I, pardon me, sire, think that the writer of this insolent letter should be severely--"

"Nay," interrupted the emperor. "You would not have me punish him for being man enough to say to my face what thousands say of me behind my back, would you? Now, I am so disinclined to punish him that I intend to increase his pension just because he is an honest, plain-spoken fellow.

You need not make such a grimace, Gunther. If you feel badly, console yourself with your work."

The emperor seated himself at the table and went on looking over his petitions, occasionally murmuring to himself, "Our emperor is a poor, callow mouse!"

CHAPTER CXLIX.

THE LADY PATRONESS.

The days of the Countess Baillou glided away in one continued round of pleasure. She was the cynosure of all eyes at concert, ball, or festival. Even women ceased to envy the conquering beauty, and seemed to think it just that all mankind should succumb to her unparalleled attractions. The emperor had shared the common enthusiasm, and, at a ball given by Prince Esterbazy, had danced twice with the countess.

Those therefore who, through their rank or station, were ambitious of the emperor's presence at their entertainments, hastened one and all to issue pressing invitations to the enchantress of whom their sovereign had said that she was the most fascinating woman in Vienna.

Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstein was about to give a ball, and the Countess Baillou had consented to receive his guests. It would perhaps have been more natural that the mother of the count should play the hostess on this occasion, but it was known that the old couple were at variance with their only son; and the more lavish he grew in his expenditure, the more penurious became his parents. The avarice of the latter was as well known as the extravagance of the former, and whenever there was a new anecdote current, illustrative of the prodigality of the son, another was related to exemplify the increasing parsimony of the father.

It was no wonder, therefore, that the bewitching countess should have been selected to preside over the ball given by her aristocratic friend.

Everybody was delighted. The emperor was to be there, and it was to be the most magnificent entertainment of the season. Long before the hour fixed for the arrival of the guests, the street before the count's palace was thronged with people, eager to obtain a glance at any thing appertaining to the fairy spectacle. While they were peering through the illuminated windows at a wilderness of flowers, mirrors, silk, and velvet, a carriage drawn by four splendid horses came thundering down the street, and drew up before the door of the palace. Two footmen in sky-blue velvet picked out with silver, leaped down to open the door, and in a trice the large portals of the palace were thrown open, and a rich carpet rolled to the carriage door, while six liveried servants ranged themselves on either side.

And now from the carriage emerged the lady patroness, resplendent in silver gauze, and diamonds that glittered like a constellation just fallen from the heavens. The people enraptured by the beauty of the countess, gave vent to their admiration without stint. As she reached the top of the marble steps, she turned and smiled upon her worshippers, whereupon they shouted as an audience is apt do at the appearance of a favorite prima donna.

In the midst of this applause, the lady entered the hotel, and until the door closed and shut out the enchanted scene within, the crowd watched her graceful form as it glided along followed by a train of lackeys.

Count Podstadsky came forward to meet her with ceremonious courtesy.

They entered the gay saloons, but, as if led by one common impulse, both traversed the long suite of apartments in silence, and approached a door which led into a small boudoir evidently not lit up for the occasion.

Once within, the door was closed, and the purple velvet portiere was dropped before it.

"Do not be afraid," said the countess, with a bewitching smile, "we are alone. You are at liberty to congratulate me upon my appearance, for I see by your eyes that you are dying to tell me how beautiful I am."

"Neither eyes nor tongue could give expression to a hundredth part of the rapture which my heart feels at your approach, Arabella," replied Podstadsky, gazing upon her with passionate admiration. "Surely every woman must hate you, and every man be intoxicated by your charms."

"They are intoxicated, Carlo," replied she. "They are such fools! To think that they are willing to commit any deed of folly for the sake of a fair face and two bright eyes."

"And you, my angel, are cruel to all, and for me alone has the proud Countess Baillou a heart."

"A heart!" ejaculated the countess, with irony. "Do you believe in hearts, silly Carlo? My dear friend, I at least am without such an inconvenience. If I love any thing it is gold. Its chink to my ear is sweetest harmony, its touch thrills through my whole being."

"How you have changed, Arabella! The time was when your lips murmured words of love and despair, too?"

"Ay, Carlo! But the woman who murmured of love and despair--she who believed in innocence and loyalty, is buried in the Tiber. She whom you rescued thence has received the baptism of shame; and you, Count Podstadsky, were her sponsor. You taught me the art of lying and deceiving, and now you prate to me of a heart!"

"It is because your maddening beauty will not suffer me to forget that mine is still susceptible of love," replied Podstadsky.

The countess laughed, but there was no mirth in her voice. "Podstadsky,"

said she, throwing back her superb head, "you have about as much heart as a hare, who runs from a rustling leaf, taking it to be the clink of the hunter's rifle."

"And yet, Arabella," replied Podstadsky, with a sickly smile, "I am here, although sometimes I do start, and fancy that I hear the hunter's step behind me."

"Hare-like fright," said Arabella, raising her shoulders. "I wonder at you, Carlo, when you look upon what we are, and reflect upon what we have been. Everybody in Vienna admires and envies us. The highest nobles of the land are our willing guests, and the emperor himself (dit-on) has fallen in love with the Countess Baillou. Oh, Carlo! Is it not enough to make all the gods of Olympus laugh?"

"You are right," replied Podstadsky, encouraged. "The emperor's visit here to-night will silence the clamor of my creditors."

"Creditors! What of them? Was there ever a nobleman without creditors!