"I shall accompany your majesty," replied the groom, cheerfully. "There is many a horse seeking its master to-night, and it will not be long before i capture one. If it please your majesty, I will conduct you to Karansches. The moon has come out beautifully, and I can easily find the way."

"I have found MY way," murmured the emperor to himself. "God has pointed it out to me, by sending help in this dark, lonely hour. Well, life has called me back, and I must bear its burdens until Heaven releases me."

Just then a horse cane by, at full speed. The groom, who was walking by the emperor's side, darted forward, seized the reins, and swung himself triumphantly into the saddle.

"Now, sire," said he, "we can travel lustily ahead. We are on the right road, and in one hour will reach Karansebes."

"Karansebes!" mused the emperor. "'Cara mini sedes!' Thus sang Ovid, and from his ode a city took her name--the city where the poet found his grave. A stately monument to Ovid is Karansebes; and now a lonely, heart-sick monarch is coming to make a pilgrimage thither, craving of Ovid's tomb the boon of a resting-place for his weary head. Oh, Cara mihi sedes, where art thou?"

In the gray of the morning they reached Karansebes. Here they found some few of the regiments, the emperor's suite, and his beloved nephew Franz, who, like his uncle, had been almost hurried to destruction by the hapless army, but had been rescued by his bold and faithful followers.

They had shielded the archduke with their own bodies, forming a square around his person, and escorting him, so guarded, until they had penetrated the dangerous ranks of the demented fugitives. [Footnote: Hubner, ii:, p. 477.]

All danger was past, but the events of that night were too much for the exhausted frame of the emperor. The fever, with which he had wrestled so long, now mastered his body with such violence that he was no longer able to mount his horse. Added to this, came a blow to his heart. The army refused to follow him any longer. They called loudly for Loudon, the old hero, who, in spite of his years, was the only man in Austria who would lead them to victory.

The emperor, stung to the soul by the mistrust of his men, gave up his last hope of military glory. He sent for Loudon; and Loudon, despite his infirmities, came at the summons.

The old hero was received with shouts of welcome. The huzzas reached the poor, mean room where Joseph lay sick with a burning fever. He listened with a sad smile, but his courage gave way, and scalding tears of disappointed ambition moistened his pillow. "Loudon has come," thought he, "and the emperor is forgotten! No one cares for him more!--Well--I must return to Vienna, and pray that the victory and fame, which have been denied to me, may be vouchsafed to Loudon!"

CHAPTER CLXXIV.

THE HUNGARIANS AGAIN.

Destiny had broken the emperor's heart. He returned from the army seriously ill, and although he had apparently recuperated during the winter, the close of the year found him beyond all hope of recovery.

Even the joyful intelligence of Loudon's victories was powerless to restore him to health. Loudon had won several battles, and had accomplished that for which Joseph had undertaken the war with Turkey.

He had once more raised the Austrian flag over the towers of Belgrade.

[Footnote: The conquest of Belgrade was accompanied by singular coincidences. The Emperor Francis (the husband of Maria Theresa) had been in command when, in 1739, the Turks took it from Austria. His grandson, Francis, with his own hand fired the first gun, when it was retaken by Loudon. In 1789 General Wallace surrendered the fortress to Osman Pacha. In 1789 Osman Pacha, the son of the latter, surrendered it to General (afterward Field-Marshal) Wallace, son of the former.--Hubner, ii., p. 492.]

Vienna received these tidings with every demonstration of joy. The city was illuminated for three days, and the emperor shared the enthusiasm of the people. He took from his state-uniform the magnificent cross of Maria Theresa--the cross which none but an emperor had ever worn--and sent it to London with the title and patent of generalissimo. [Footnote: This cross was worth 24,000 ducats.--Gross-Hotfinger, iii., p. 500.] He attended the Te Deum, and to all appearances was as elated as his subjects. But once alone with Lacy, the mask fell, and the smile faded from his colorless lips.

"Lacy," said he, "I would have bought these last superfluous laurels of Loudon with my life. But for me no laurels have ever grown; the cypress is my emblem--the emblem of grief."

He was right. Discontent reigned in Hungary, in the Netherlands, and latterly in Tyrol. On every side were murmurs and threats of rebellion against him who would have devoted every hour of his life to the enlightenment of his subjects. All Belgium had taken up arms. The imperial troops had joined the insurgents, and now a formidable army threatened the emperor. Van der Noot, the leader of the revolt, published a manifesto, declaring Belgium independent of the Austrian empire. The insurgents numbered ten thousand. They were headed by the nobles and sustained by the clergy. Masses were said for the success of the rebels, and requiems were sung for those who fell in battle or otherwise. [Footnote: Gross-Hoffinger, iii., p. 289.] The cities of Brussels, Antwerp, Louvain, Mechlin, and Namur, opened their doors to the patriots. The Austrian General D'Alton fled with his troops to Luxemburg, and three millions of florins, belonging to the military coffers, fell into the hands of the insurgents. [Footnote: D'Alton was cited before the emperor, but on his way to Vienna he took poison and died four days before Joseph.]

Such was the condition of the Austrian empire toward the close of the year 1789. The emperor resolved to make one more attempt to bring the Belgians to reason, and to this end he sent Count Cobenzl to Brussels, and, after him, Prince de Ligne.

The prince came to take leave of the emperor. "I send you as a mediator between myself and your countrymen," said Joseph, with a languid smile.

"Prove to those so-called patriots that you, who endeavor to reconcile them to their sovereign, are the only Belgian of them all who possesses true patriotism."

"Sire, I shall say to my misguided countrymen that I have seen your majesty weep over their disloyalty. I shall tell them that it is not anger which they have provoked in your majesty's heart, but sorrow."

"Yes," replied Joseph, "I sorrow for their infatuation, and they are fast sending me to the grave. The taking of Ghent was my death-struggle, the evacuation of Brussels my last expiring sigh. Oh!" continued he, in tones of extreme anguish--"oh, what humiliation! I shall surely die of it! I were of stone, to survive so many blows from the hand of fate! Go, De Ligne, and do your best to induce your countrymen to return to their allegiance. Should you fail; dear friend, remain there. Do not sacrifice your future to me, for you have children." [Footnote: The emperor's own words--"Envres du Prince de Ligne,"]

"Yes, sire," replied De Ligne, with emotion, "I have children, but they are not dearer to me than my sovereign. And now, with your majesty's permission, I will withdraw, for the hour of my departure is at hand. I do not despair of success. Farewell, sire, for a while."

"Farewell forever!" murmured Joseph, as the door closed behind the prince. "Death is not far off, and I have so much to do!"

He arose hastily from his arm-chair, and opening the door that led into the chancery, called his three secretaries.

"Let us to work," said he, as they entered.

"Sire," replied one of them, in faltering tones, "Herr von Quarin desired us, in his name, to implore of your majesty to rest for a few days."

"I cannot do it," said Joseph, impatiently. "If I postpone this writing another day, it may never be accomplished at all. Give in your reports.

What dispatches have we from Hungary?"

"They are most unsatisfactory, sire. The landed proprietors have refused to contribute their share of the imposts, and the people rebel against the conscription-act, and threaten the officers of the crown with death."

"Revolt, revolt everywhere!" exclaimed the emperor, shuddering. "But I will not yield; they shall all submit!"

The door of the cabinet opened, and the marshal of the household entered, announcing a deputation of Magyars.

"A deputation! From whom?" asked Joseph, eagerly.

"I do not know, sire, but Count Palfy is one of the deputies."

"Count Palfy again!" cried the emperor, scornfully. "When the Hungarians have a sinister message to send, they are sure to select Count Palfy as their ambassador. Show them to the reception-room which opens into my cabinet, count. I will see them there."

He dismissed the secretaries, and rang for his valet. He could scarcely stand, while Gunther was assisting him to change his dressing-gown for his uniform. [Footnote: This was the brother of him who was the lover of Rachel.] His toilet over, he was obliged to lean upon the valet for support, for his limbs were almost failing him.

"Oh!" cried he, bitterly, "how it will rejoice them to see me so weak and sick! They will go home and tell their Hungarians that there is no strength left in me to fight with traitors! But they shall not know it.

I will be the emperor, if my life pay the forfeit of the exertion. Lead me to the door, Gunther. I will lean against one of the pillars, and stand while I give audience to the Magyars."

Gunther supported him tenderly to the door, and then threw it wide open.

In the reception-room stood the twelve deputies, not in court-dress, but in the resplendent costume of their own nation. They were the same men who, several years before, had appeared before the emperor, and Count Palfy, the Chancellor of Hungary, was the first one to advance.

The emperor bent his head, and eyed his visitors.

"If I am not mistaken," said he, "these are the same gentlemen who appeared here as Hungarian deputies several years ago."

"Yes, sire, we are the same men," replied Count Palfy.

"Why are you here again?"

"To repeat our remonstrances, sire. The kingdom of Hungary has chosen the same representatives, that your majesty may see how unalterable is our determination to defend our rights with our lives. Hungary has not changed her attitude, sire, and she will never change it."

"Nor shall I ever change mine," cried Joseph, passionately.

"My will to-day is the same as it was six years ago."

"Then, sire, you must expect an uprising of the whole Hungarian nation,"

returned Count Palfy, gravely. "For the last time we implore your majesty to restore us our rights."

"What do you call your rights?" asked Joseph, sarcastically.

"All that for centuries past has been guaranteed to us by our constitution; all that each king of Hungary, as he came to the throne, has sworn to preserve inviolate. Sire, we will not become an Austrian province; we are Hungarians, and are resolved to retain our nationality.