THE EMPEROR FRANCIS.
The Emperor Francis had to-day entered his study at an earlier hour than usual, and was industriously engaged there in finishing a miniature cup which he had commenced cutting from a peach-stone yesterday. On the table before him lay the drawing of the model after which he was shaping the cup; and Francis lifted his eves only from time to time to fix them on the drawing, and compare it with his own work. These comparisons, however, apparently did not lead to a cheering result, for the emperor frowned and put the cup rather impetuously close to the drawing on the table.
"I believe, forsooth, the cup is not straight," murmured the emperor to himself, contemplating from all sides the diminutive object which had cost him so much labor. "Sure enough, it is not straight, it has a hump on one side. Yes, yes, nothing is straight, nowadays; and even God in heaven creates His things no longer straight, and does not shrink from letting the peach-stones grow crooked. But no matter--what God does is well done," added the emperor, crossing himself devoutly; "even an emperor must not censure it, and must not grumble when his cup is not straight because God gave the peach-stone a hump. Well, perhaps, I may change it yet, and make the cup straight."He again took up the little cup, and commenced industriously working at it with his sharp files, pointed knives, and gimlets. It was hard work; large drops of sweat stood on the emperor's forehead; his arms ached, and his fingers became sore under the pressure of the knives and files; but the emperor did not mind it, only from time to time wiping the sweat from his brow, and then continuing his labor with renewed zeal.
Close to the small table containing the tools stood the emperor's large writing-table. Large piles of documents and papers lay on this table, and among them were scattered also many letters and dispatches with broad official seals. But the emperor had not yet thought of opening these dispatches or unsealing these letters. The peach-stone had engrossed his attention this morning, and he had unsealed only one of the papers; the emperor had read only the report of the secret police on the events of the previous day. These reports of the secret police and the Chiffre-Cabinet were the favorite reading matter of the Emperor Francis, and he would have flown into a towering passion if he had not found them on his writing-table early every morning.
Thanks to these reports, the emperor knew every morning all that had occurred in Vienna during the previous day; what the foreign ambassadors had done, and, above all things, what his brothers, the Archdukes Charles, Ferdinand, Joseph, and John, had said, done, and perhaps only thought. To-day's report had not communicated many important things to the emperor; it had only informed him that, at daybreak, a courier from Paris had arrived at the house of the French ambassador, Count Andreossi, and that there were good reasons to believe that be had brought highly important news.
It was exactly for the purpose of dispelling the anxiety with which this unpleasant intelligence had filled him, that. Francis bad laid aside the report and recommenced his work on the cup; and by this occupation he bad succeeded in forgetting the burdensome duties of his imperial office.
He was just trying very hard to plane one side of his cup, when a low rap at the small door leading to the narrow corridor, and thence to the apartments of the empress, interrupted him. The emperor gave a start and looked toward the door, listening and hoping, perhaps, that his ear might have deceived him. But no, the rapping was heard once more: there could no longer be a doubt of it--somebody sought admittance, and intended to disturb the peaceful solitude of the emperor.
"What does the empress want?" murmured Francis. "What does she come here for? I am afraid something unpleasant has happened again."He rose with a shrug from his chair, put his miniature cup hastily into the drawer of his table, and hurried to open the door.
