■■'■■ •'• "^^1 
 

THE 
 
 LIBRARY OF ROMANCE. 
 
 BY LEITCH RITCHIE. 
 
 VOL. XIII. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITIL ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1834. 
 
Printed by Stewart jund Co., Old Builey. 
 
THE 
 
 SIEGE GF VIENNA; 
 
 Jfvom tf)t (German 
 
 MADAME PICHLER. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CG., CGRNHILL 
 
 1834. 
 

 THE 
 
 SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 To the lovers of landscape scenery, there are few 
 districts more interesting than that through which 
 the traveller passes on the high road from Vienna, 
 by way of Gratz, towards Italy. The Miirtz and 
 Murr valleys, with their bright streams, verdant pro- 
 montories, and cheerful hamlets, have been espe- 
 cially admired and celebrated. Even at the com- 
 mencement of his journey, as the tourist, first 
 quitting the lowlands, ascends behind Glocknitz 
 towards the great mountain named the Sommering, 
 the route affords many beautiful prospects; and 
 not the least beautiful as you approach the environs 
 of the market-town of Scholtvien, which, situated 
 
 466 
 
2 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 in a narrow defile betwixt lofty precipices, forms 
 an entrance into the rocky wilderness of Styria. 
 
 Advancing from this point, we soon behold the 
 grand features of the Sommering, with its diver- 
 sities of bare crags and luxuriant woods, and can 
 distinguish the admirable chaussee, which, formed 
 with great expense and labour, leads by zig-zag 
 turnings to the very summit. On this road, which 
 is sometimes cut through solid rocks, and else- 
 where supported by mason-work on the declivities, 
 a singular effect is produced to the eye of the dis- 
 tant observer, when long trains of heavily laden 
 waggons, each with ten or twelve horses or oxen, 
 are seen slowly winding up the mountain. Amidst 
 sheltering woods, half-way to the top, is pictu- 
 resquely situated a small chapel dedicated to the 
 Virgin, and the resort of many pilgrims; — whence 
 the continued ascent is so gradual that the summit 
 is reached without much fatigue. Here, on one 
 side, the eye revels amid the boundless varieties of 
 scenery in Lower Austria, — its flourishing towns, 
 villages, rich meadows and corn-fields, extending 
 to the distant blue hills of the Hungarian frontier, 
 while from an opposite direction, opens the ro- 
 mantic region of Styria, where dense forests, glit- 
 tering streams, rocky cliffs, and scattered cottages, 
 afford a prospect for the painter or poet, still more 
 attractive. 
 
 On the very highest ground, which forms the 
 boundary betwixt Austria and Styria, stands the 
 monument of Charles VI., to whose indefatigable 
 public spirit, aided by Prince Eugene of Savoy, 
 the country is indebted, not only for the chaussee 
 of the Sommering, but for the finest buildings by 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 3 
 
 which Vienna has yet been adorned. At the time, 
 however, when the events took place which form 
 the subject of our story, the Austrian frontier was 
 more distant, and the proper entrance into Styria 
 was by the narrow defile and fortress of Clamm, of 
 which there now exist only some ruins, but which 
 in the seventeenth century, was a tolerably sub- 
 stantial castle in the possession of the baronial 
 family of VolkersdorflP. Well-defended by high 
 towers and ramparts, which in early ages must 
 have been of no little importance, their castle had 
 a most imposing appearance from its rocky site, if 
 surveyed from its valley beneath on the road to 
 Neustadt. From this castle, down into the narrow 
 defile, there extended a strong rampart, provided 
 with towers at equal distances, which in time of 
 need could be defended, and offered too many 
 points of resistance to be separately contested by 
 the enemy. The heights on the other side of the 
 fortress were equally well protected, and it was 
 only through a gateway into the narrow ravine 
 attended by vigilant guards, that Austrian pas- 
 sengers could enter Styria. 
 
 The fortress itself consisted of several rambling 
 and incongruous buildings, the production of dif- 
 ferent eras and different rulers. The more ele- 
 vated parts of the castle, with the strongest towers 
 and thickest walls, were ascribed to the dukes of 
 Rabenberg, who, during the ferocious and devas- 
 tating inroads of the Huns and Avari, found high 
 watch-towers indispensably requisite, against the 
 sudden attacks of rude marauders. At the period, 
 however, when our story commences, the oldest 
 b2 
 
4 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 
 
 and loftiest portion of Clamm Castle was aban- 
 doned as a refuge only for bats and owls; the 
 present inhabitants being of opinion that the lower 
 parts of the stronghold were more convenient. 
 Even these had become in some measure dilapi- 
 dated ; for during a series of expensive campaigns 
 under Wallenstein, the Archduke Leopold, and 
 against the Turks, the barons of VolkersdorfF had 
 embarked their own money in the public service^ 
 and encountered heavy losses. A once large and 
 profitable domain became rapidly impoverished. 
 One residence after another was either sold or 
 mortgaged, till at length, no other property re- 
 mained to them but this ancient castle of Clamm 
 on the Styrian frontiers, with its adjacent grounds 
 in the valley behind the Sommering. 
 
 Hither, as often as his military duties permitted, 
 Frederick, the last resident baron of VolkersdorfF, 
 retired to spend his time in domestic tranquillity. 
 He had married Mademoiselle de Ferronay, a young 
 Hungarian lady of great beauty, and to their per- 
 fect happiness the only existing obstacle was, that 
 for some years they had no children, in conse- 
 quence of which, the baroness, in her devotions at 
 the chapel of Maria Zell, made a solemn vow to 
 the Virgin, that if Providence blessed her with 
 offspring, her first-born should be devoted to the 
 cloisters. Within the next year she gave birth to 
 a daughter, at which event Volkersdoff doubly re- 
 joiced, as he could not without some reluctance 
 have devoted a son to the monastic life, instead of 
 the chivalrous career in which his ancestors had 
 been so eminently distinguished. Afterwards he 
 had the felicity to become the parent of two sons 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 5 
 
 ^and of another daughter. But no sooner were 
 the young men able to wield a sword and mount a 
 charger, than the baron found them employment, in 
 that profession which alone was considered worthy 
 of a nobleman. They had commissions in separate 
 regiments, and were only occasional visitors of the 
 castle. 
 
 With regard to the daughters, there was betwixt 
 them so great a dissimilarity both of character 
 and features, that a stranger could not have sup- 
 posed them to be sisters. Hence arose in the family 
 a system of favouritism, Catherine, the youngest, 
 being her father's chosen protegee, and compara- 
 tively neglected by the baroness; — Ludmilla, the 
 destined bride of the church, was in figure tall and 
 graceful, with features, which, though regularly 
 beautiful, wore even in early youth a marked 
 seriousness of expression approaching to melan- 
 choly. But the powerful impression which her 
 appearance never failed to make on every beholder 
 depended especially on the effect of her large dark 
 eyes, though these were generally downcast, and 
 shaded by long raven-black eye-lashes. More- 
 over, her dark eye-brows were strongly defined on 
 a high open forehead, and according to the fashion 
 of the times, her hair simply parted from the 
 crown of the head, hung down in numberless ring- 
 lets on either side, heightening by contrast the 
 dazzling fairness of her pale and thoughtful aspect. 
 
 Catherine, on the contrary, had no pretensions to 
 dignity of figure, but was not less beautiful ; her 
 form, in its full, but delicately rounded proportions, 
 might have afforded a sculptor the finest of models. 
 Her countenance, instead of being pensive and 
 
b THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 grave, was continually lighted up by the most 
 perfect good humour, and a half-childish playful- 
 ness of expression. Ludmilla, at a first interview, 
 produced a far greater sensation ; but Catherine's 
 charms won on the heart by degrees. One was 
 framed to be admired and wondered at, — the other 
 to be beloved. 
 
 Betwixt their dispositions, as already mentioned, 
 there existed the same powerful contrast. Ludmilla 
 had naturally a restless mind, and great quickness 
 of apprehension ; nor had either cost or pains 
 been spared to afford her instruction in every ac- 
 quirement then considered suitable for a young 
 lady of rank. She had, besides, the command of 
 several languages ; was well skilled in history and 
 geography, and played admirably on the theorbo ; 
 but the possession of these accomplishments, was 
 not unaccompanied with a considerable degree of 
 pride. Ludmilla had formed the highest notions 
 of the dignity attached to her future destination in 
 life, and even in early youth, often fancied herself 
 invested with the rank and responsibility of a mo- 
 ther abbess. But if such feelings tended to give a 
 reserve and hauteur to her demeanour, its chilling 
 effect was often counteracted by a single glance of 
 those large dark eyes already mentioned, when 
 their long silk fringes were uplifted. In truth, a 
 vivid imagination, and impassioned ardour of tem- 
 perament, unconsciously to herself, animated all 
 her words and actions. 
 
 The mind of her sister, less rapid in its progress, 
 but undisturbed by the workings of imagination, 
 was therefore more clear and rational. Debarred 
 the same advantages of careful instruction and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 7 
 
 superintendance that Ludmilla possessed, Catherine 
 gradually, and by her own unobserved industry, 
 possessed herself of many accomplishments. With- 
 out brilliant flashes, her spirit sustained a calm 
 equable glow. She was humble in demeanour, 
 quiet, benevolent, and affectionate. Ludmilla ex- 
 cited admiration by her scientific performance as a 
 musician, — but when Catherine sang, her clear, 
 melodious voice often left a deeper impression on 
 the heart. 
 
 Notwithstanding such discrepancies of character, 
 the sisters were mutually and sincerely attached to 
 each other. It might have been expected that Ca- 
 therine's natural good temper would be severely 
 tried by her mother's neglect, but this was compen- 
 sated by the baron's unalterable kindness. Even 
 in her childhood, VolkersdorfF had planned for her 
 favourite, a marriage with Sandor Szlatinski, the 
 son of a brother officer and friend, who now lived 
 in retirement at his estate on the Polish frontier. 
 The excellent disposition of this youth, the pru- 
 dence wuth which he afterwards conducted himself 
 betwixt conflicting parties at that perturbed era, 
 and the firmness he displayed in supporting the 
 principles of his house in favour of Austria, secured 
 him universal respect, and justified the baron's 
 selection of him for a son-in-law. Years passed 
 away, and the marriage, though approved by all 
 parties, had still been deferred, owing to the dis- 
 tracting state of public affairs, and other obstacles 
 at which Szlatinski expressed both impatience and 
 anger. At length, in the end of the year 1677, 
 their marriage was fixed for the following spring, 
 but meanwhile sudden and severe illness attacked 
 
O THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the Baron Volkersdoff; he survived only long 
 enough to have an interview with his intended son- 
 in-law ; in whom, during his last moments, he ex- 
 pressed unalterable confidence ; requesting also 
 that Szlatinski, in the absence of the two young 
 barons, would act as guardian and protector of 
 the forsaken and afflicted family. With deep 
 emotion Szlatinski solemnly engaged to fulfil this 
 duty ; — which his own feelings, unsolicited by 
 others, would have suggested. Volkersdorff died, 
 surrounded by those he most loved, but his death 
 proved only the commencement of a train of evils, 
 which impended over the baronial house. This 
 melancholy event, with the deep affliction it caused, 
 particularly to Catherine, rendered a long delay 
 of the intended nuptials unavoidable, and Szla- 
 tinski was under the necessity of returning to his 
 father's estates The property of Volkersdorff, al- 
 ready so contracted, was now more than ever im- 
 poverished by a series of disastrous occurrences, 
 especially hail-storms, and accidental fires, which 
 followed in rapid succession, and yet more by the 
 dishonesty of servants. 
 
 In the year 1679, a new visitation of Providence 
 reduced the already suffering family, to almost 
 utter despair. The younger of the two absent bro- 
 thers, who was quartered with his regiment at 
 Vienna, suddenly died of the plague, which then 
 raged in that capital. 
 
 Within the next year, also, ere they had reco- 
 vered from this affliction, the pestilence spread 
 from Vienna into the country, visiting even the re- 
 mote mountainous districts, which had been thought 
 perfectly secure. Thei baroness Volkersdorff, anxi- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 9 
 
 ous to protect her daughters from this appalling 
 malady, and being afraid to trust Clamm Castle 
 to the care of mercenaries, remained there alone, 
 and sent her daughters with a suitable escort, to 
 the house of her brother, the Baron de Ferronay, 
 who resided in Presburg. 
 
10 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 So retired hitherto had been the life of the sisters, 
 that until this event, they had never beheld any 
 larger town than Neustadt, and the impression 
 made on their minds v^hen they arrived at Presburg, 
 (then the capital of Hungary), differed according 
 to their opposite characters, but was remarkable in 
 both. They had entered into a new world, where 
 Catherine was at first timid and reserved, felt her- 
 self alone in the midst of society, and fervently 
 longed to be again amid the peaceful scenery of her 
 accustomed mountains. By slow degrees this pain- 
 ful embarrassment wore away. Her aunt and 
 cousins were kind and attentive ; and with her 
 uncle the Baron de Ferronay, she became an es- 
 pecial favourite. Her natural vivacity and cheer- 
 fulness returned, and she partook with zest in the 
 social amusements, which, among the higher ranks 
 at Presburg, seemed now to form nearly the sole 
 occupation of life. In her admiration of the costly 
 dresses worn by her own sex, and the splendid 
 military accoutrements of the Hungarian nobility, 
 Catherine was too simple-minded to reflect on the 
 contrast afforded by her own rustic and unpretend- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 11 
 
 ing costume. It was not long, however, before the 
 baron's liberal presents to his nieces remedied this 
 defect, and he seemed especially rejoiced when for 
 the first time Catherine appeared to advantage in 
 her new attire ; on which occasion it was allowed, 
 that in personal charms she far outshone many rich 
 and celebrated beauties of the capital. 
 
 Ludmilla had from the commencement been less 
 timid, and far more po^verfuUy excited than her 
 sister. She felt as if her past existence had been 
 only a dream, and that now for the first time she 
 awoke to real life. With a degree of interest, which 
 could not have been expected from her sex and 
 years, she listened to conversation on the important 
 public events of that period, — on the intrigues of 
 the court, and the peculiar situation in which Hun- 
 gary was then placed with regard to Austria and 
 other neighbouring states. Through frequent in- 
 tercourse with the gay court of Louis XIV., with 
 Vienna, and with foreign universities, the better 
 society of Presburg had acquired a degree of in- 
 telligence and vivacity of tone by which she was 
 powerfully attracted. Nor was she less struck 
 than Catherine by the outward grandeur of houses, 
 dresses, equipage, and retinue. From the inmost 
 depths of her mind were awakened talents, energies 
 and impulses, of which hitherto she had been her- 
 self wholly unconscious. With rapidity she assi- 
 milated in costume, demeanour and conversation, to 
 the habits and example of the new world into which 
 she had been thus thrown. She accepted her 
 uncle's costly presents of dress with the grave dig- 
 nity of a princess receiving the homage which she 
 knows to be due ; and thus the full effect being 
 
12 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 given to her commanding figure and striking fea- 
 tures, the sensation she produced in the heau monde 
 at Presburg was almost unequalled. 
 
 In a short time the younger baronesses Vblkers- 
 dorfF, were looked upon as the principal stars of 
 attraction in the most distinguished assemblies. 
 At such marked attention, Catherine, if somewhat 
 elevated, was not without embarrassment and ti- 
 midity ; and by her humble, yet playful manners, 
 and regard to the wishes of others, especially her 
 cousins, seemed as it were to apologize for the ad- 
 miration she involuntarily excited. Ludmilla, on 
 the contrary, treated every one in a manner de haul 
 en has, which repulsed freedom, and asserted her 
 own superiority. For her aunt and cousin she 
 could not entertain respect. She looked on them 
 as uninformed and narrow-minded, and, knowing 
 that by such connections she could not be loved, 
 was not averse to the idea that she might possibly 
 be feared. Towards her numerous admirers she 
 maintained a dignified reserve and gravity of de- 
 meanour, suitable for the destined bride of the 
 church ; she listened to their flatteries as a mere 
 customary tribute, and the interest she took in so- 
 ciety, depended on occasions when she could share 
 in conversation respecting politics and literature, 
 with individuals who were neither flatterers nor 
 professed admirers, and, who would give attention 
 to her remarks, as coming from one who could not 
 possibly be influenced by party spirit, or selfish 
 views. 
 
 Hitherto the gallantry of the Hungarian cava* 
 liers towards the sisters had been harmless ; their 
 hearts were unmoved by any attachment, and both 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 13 
 
 were so mindful of their engagements already 
 formed, as to consider it impossible that inter- 
 course with the world could change either their 
 destiny or inclinations. When the day had been 
 spent in amusements, and they retired to their 
 own quiet apartment, Catherine fondly dwelt on 
 the praise which she often heard bestowed on 
 Szlatinski ; and Ludmilla continued as usual, to 
 act in imagination, the part of mother abbess. 
 Both also looked forward anxiously to the period 
 when the disappearance of the still spreading 
 malady would enable them to return home; im- 
 mediately after which, it had been agreed that 
 Ludmilla should take the veil, and Catherine be 
 united to her lover. 
 
 Among the various entertainments of the Hun- 
 garian nobility, dancing assemblies were not of 
 course omitted ; nor did the music or festive splen- 
 dour on these occasions, fail to bewilder and daz- 
 zle the novices. Ludmilla indeed, took little or no 
 part in the immediate purpose of these meetings, 
 for except at small family parties, she seldom 
 danced, though universally admired when she could 
 be prevailed on to do so. Catherine, however, 
 preferred this amusement above all others. She 
 tripped with light heart and fairy grace through 
 the glittering throng, nor was ever disturbed by 
 the consciousness how many admiring eyes she 
 drew on herself from one sex, or how spitefully 
 envious were the glances that followed her from 
 another. 
 
 At this period occurred an event, which was then 
 of much public importance, namely, the election 
 of a palatine for the kingdom of Hungary. To the 
 
14 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 great satisfaction of those wlio were on good terms 
 at court, and who wished to avoid popular commo- 
 tion, the choice fell on one of the counts Ester- 
 hazy, whose assumption of office was celebrated by 
 brilliant festivities, balls, banquets, and illumina- 
 tions. To one of these entertainments, from which 
 the gay world had formed great expectations, Lud- 
 milla and Catherine, along with the family of their 
 uncle and aunt, were invited. So remarkable were 
 the preparations for this fete, that for many days 
 previous it formed the sole topic of conversation in 
 Madame de Ferronay's drawing-room, and every 
 guest who made his appearance there was ques- 
 tioned on the subject. 
 
 Amidst the discussions thence arising, the sisters 
 had often heard of the young Count Zriny, as a 
 most important personage, who would make his 
 appearance at the intended festival. This interest- 
 ing cavalier was a son of the unfortunate Zriny, 
 who had many years before been engaged in trea- 
 sonable plots against the Austrian emperor, and 
 had suffered for his crimes on the scaffold. As 
 the last scion of an old, and justly renowned 
 family, and distinguished from infancy for pro- 
 mising talents and personal beauty, the present 
 count had in boyhood attracted the notice of the 
 Emperor Leopold, who kindly took him under his 
 protection, and procured for him every advantage 
 of education which the best instructors could sup- 
 ply. Finding that such favours were followed by 
 corresponding improvement, he allowed the youth 
 to assume in public the family title, which had 
 been suppressed ; at length named him as one of 
 his chamberlains, and took every opportunity of 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 15 
 
 evincing towards his protege the utmost liberality, 
 and almost paternal affection. 
 
 Towards his benefactor, Zriny appeared also 
 gratefully attached, and never failed in his attend- 
 ance, on occasions either of business or pleasure, 
 when by personal exertions he could render him- 
 self useful to the emperor. Consequently it hap- 
 pened, that he was often entrusted with commis- 
 sions of importance, which were not well adapted to 
 his years and experience ; thus becoming an object 
 of envy or censorious remark to the elder nobility. 
 Among the fair sex, it is true, his uncommon sym- 
 metry of person, graceful demeanour, and agree- 
 able conversation, procured him many partizans, 
 whilst from his leading compatriots, both of Austria 
 and Hungary, the marked favor of Leopold, with 
 his own superior talents and advantages, excited 
 only malevolence and hatred. Of this disposition 
 on their part, Zriny was thoroughly aware ; but it 
 seemed not to cause him a moment's disquietude. 
 As little did he permit his attention to dwell on the 
 injurious reports which his enemies endeavoured to 
 found on the conduct of his sister Helena, a highly 
 talented, but very ambitious lady, who had first 
 been the wife of George Rakotzy, Prince of Nei- 
 denburg, and afterwards married his successor, 
 Emmerick Tokely. Of these noblemen it was 
 publicly known that both had declared themselves 
 against the Hungarian government, but of Prince 
 Emmerick in particular, rumours were spread that 
 he had entered into a secret league and corre- 
 spondence with the Turks in order to overthrow 
 his lawful sovereign. 
 
 In spite of such reports and machinations, Zriny 
 
16 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 maintained firmly the ground on which the Austrian 
 emperor had placed him ; nor did any one venture 
 in his presence, to start even the remotest allusion 
 to those attacks which were privately hazarded 
 against him. On the contrary, he met with pro- 
 found respect from all quarters, and gross flattery 
 from individuals who prudently sought to win his 
 favour. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At present the eyes of the Hungarian noblesse were 
 universally fixed on Zriny ; one party distrustfully 
 watching all his movements, while others anxiously 
 hoped to secure him as a partizan for their own in- 
 terests. It was known, moreover, that he had just 
 now returned from Paris, whither the emperor had 
 sent him with important commissions, and where, in 
 the brilliant court of Louis, he had appeared to sin- 
 gular advantage, and attracted much attention. 
 Perhaps for no better reason than the expected 
 presence of this distinguished courtier and diplo- 
 matist, it had been agreed that the guests at the 
 approaching grand ball should be arrayed in French 
 instead of native costume. 
 
 On this occasion, Ludmilla, aided by her usual 
 activity of imagination, enjoyed, for the first time, 
 the unspeakable pleasure of dreaming that she had 
 been transported into the higher circles of the far- 
 famed French capital ; and was herself so becom- 
 ingly attired as to present one of the most attractive 
 figures in the whole assembly. 
 
 The ball had at length commenced, and Cathe- 
 c 
 
18 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 rine had already danced more than once, when a 
 whispering among their near neighbours, whose 
 eyes were all turned in one direction, made the 
 sisters aware that some new and distinguished guest 
 had entered the room. Accordingly, they soon saw 
 a young man in very brilliant costume, who was 
 received with such respectful ceremony by the host 
 and hostess of the mansion, as to leave no doubt of 
 his rank and consequence. For some time he 
 walked up and down the room, along with Count 
 Esterhazy, the newly elected palatine, and they had 
 an opportunity of making their observations at lei- 
 sure. The stranger was rather above the middle 
 height, and his air and demeanour such as unequi- 
 vocally betoken the man of the world. He was 
 attired in red velvet, with an embroidered belt 
 closely buckled, which showed his fine figure to ad- 
 vantage, while on his left shoulder glittered the 
 golden key, proper to his office of Lord Chamber- 
 lain. His sword-hilt was adorned with a knot of 
 embroidered ribbons, and similar knots were at- 
 tached to his knee-bands and shoulders. At the 
 wrist his sleeves were turned up with white satin, 
 and his ruffles were of fine Flanders lace. His neck- 
 cloth was of the same costly material, and he wore 
 it tied in a careless knot, with long ends hanging 
 down on his breast. According to the fashion uni- 
 versal at that period, his luxuriant light hair parted 
 in the middle, hung down in graceful curls on his 
 breast and shoulders, giving an effect of almost 
 feminine beauty to his youthful countenance, — to 
 the penetrating glance of his full blue eyes, and 
 the smile which often played on his finely formed 
 lips. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 19 
 
 " That is Count Zriny ! the emperor's favourite, 
 — how handsome he is! what a beautiful dress! 
 How good-natured he looks/' Such were the 
 whispered exclamations that circulated among the 
 fair guests in the ball-room, as with stolen glances 
 they watched all his movements. 
 
 Ludmilla's attention in particular was rivetted by 
 this brilliant apparition, nor could she abstain from 
 gazing at him. But as amid the whole assembly 
 the sisters were almost the only guests not already 
 known to Zriny, his attention also was soon at- 
 tracted, and especially by Ludmilla. The marked 
 expression, of those eyes, which were constantly 
 directed to him; her extraordinary beauty, and 
 the singularity of her taking no share in the amuse- 
 ments of the evening, excited both admiration and 
 curiosity. He made inquiries regarding the sisters ; 
 learned who they were, and was warned that the 
 eldest never danced on any public occasion, being 
 destined by her family for the cloister. 
 
 *^ For the cloister !" repeated Zriny, speaking to 
 himself, '* and with that symmetrical form, with 
 those enchanting features, those ardent looks from 
 beneath the dark clustering hair, and such grace 
 in every movement! — what a sacrifice ! — But atrial 
 must be made whether this bride of the church will 
 condescend to interchange a few words in common 
 parlance, or if there be any remote chance of in- 
 ducing her to walk a single minuet.'' 
 
 According to etiquette, however, he first danced 
 with the lady of the mansion, and some of her more 
 distinguished guests, attracting unanimous applause 
 by the grace and skill displayed in his perform- 
 ance. He then approached Ludmilla, and with the 
 c2 
 
20 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 polished tournure of the French language, begged 
 for the happiness of being her partner for the next 
 minuet. Thus addressed by the individual who 
 formed the universal object of admiration, Ludmilla 
 blushed deeply, and forgetting all her previous re- 
 solutions, gave him her hand, and allowed herself to 
 be led among the dancers. Catherine and the Ma- 
 demoiselles de Ferronay, looked after her with 
 astonishment. A whispering ran through the room, 
 and by degrees there formed round this beautiful 
 couple a circle of spectators, full of curiosity to see 
 the lady abbess dance; for this title had been given 
 to Ludmilla, not merely on account of her future 
 destination, but her grave and dignified demeanour. 
 Of all this she was thoroughly aware ; it vexed, but 
 it did not dismay her. On the contrary, she was 
 determined to show that she had not previously 
 declined dancing from want of skill, but of incli- 
 nation. 
 
 At length the couple who preceded them retired 
 from the boards. Zriny gently took her hand, and 
 for a moment, it vibrated as if struck with electric 
 fire, which pervaded her whole frame. With the 
 dignity of a queen she made her first curtsies, and 
 stood looking with a kind of disdainful triumph on 
 the crowd who gazed on her. For this she had 
 courage, but she did not thus venture a second 
 time to encounter Zriny's glance ; for their eyes 
 had once met, and the expression in his was never 
 to be forgotten. Again he took her hand, and led 
 her to the place where the fours were to begin. 
 With such ease and elegance did Ludmilla achieve 
 the attitudes and movements of the minuet, that 
 the admiration of the whole assembly was even 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 21 
 
 audibly expressed, Zriny was not insensible to 
 this tribute of applause, and exerted himself to ap- 
 pear worthy of such a partner. Never had he 
 danced with more precision and grace. At length, 
 as they floated past each other, his eyes caught the 
 glance of Ludmilla, and sympathetic fire seemed 
 interchanged betwixt them ; again as they changed 
 places, their eyes met, and her bosom heaved 
 visibly. Now came the time for joining hands 
 right and left, — she must look at him, and having 
 gained courage by the first attempt, did so with 
 more steadiness. But how numberless and over- 
 powering were the emotions which that one gaze 
 excited ! Her hand still trembled, however, while 
 respectfully, yet tenderly, he held it a moment longer 
 than the rules of the dance required. However, 
 she did not seek to withdraw it, but reached him 
 the other with more confidence ; and when at the 
 close of the dance they both advanced with open 
 and outstretched arms towards each other, it seemed 
 to Ludmilla, as if some supernatural voice ex- 
 claimed, *' Fall into his arms that are open to re- 
 ceive you — Perish in his embrace and on his 
 bosom — for that is your destiny !" 
 
 From this moment onwards, Ludmilla's whole 
 character and existence were changed. As in the 
 highlands of Switzerland, after a long winter, sum- 
 mer commences without any previous mediation of 
 spring ; the snow melts from the meadows, and the 
 grass rises up ; the trees and bushes, which were 
 dry and sterile, array themselves in a few nights 
 with buds and green leaves, and flowers spring up 
 on the banks of rivulets, that are scarcely released 
 from the ice ; so, all of a sudden, the grave and 
 
22 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 haughty nun was changed into a girl glowing with 
 love. This first affection broke out with all that 
 vivacity and fire which were naturally to be ex- 
 pected from one of her ardent temperament. She 
 had now forgotten all her former engagements, not 
 only the predestined convent, but even her return 
 to Clamm Castle, and her lonely forsaken mother. 
 Her whole existence was excited by, and made up 
 of passion. Zriny could not have been the man of 
 the world, which he really was, nor the previous 
 conqueror of so many female hearts, if he had re- 
 mained insensible to the advantages gained, even 
 at the first interview with this new acquaintance. 
 Such victories were not new to him, but he had 
 not always on former occasions resolved, as he 
 now did, to make a guarded and sparing use of 
 the advantages which he had won. The novelty 
 and singularity of the circumstances — his know- 
 ledge that this young lady was betrothed to the 
 church, consequently interdicted from any sublu- 
 nary attachment, conferred on her, in his estima- 
 tion, peculiar charms. Through the remainder of 
 that night, he devoted his attention exclusively to 
 the beautiful stranger ; and the guests, with asto- 
 nishment, beheld a man who might have had for 
 his partners, not only the most attractive, but the 
 richest and noblest in the assembly, thus attaching 
 himself to a poor rustic baroness, who, as they af- 
 fected to think, had no distinguishing character- 
 istics, except bizarre manners, and an intolerable 
 degree of pride. 
 
 This ball was followed by others, at which the 
 sisters were also present, and Zriny's attentions 
 continued. Thus, it soon became understood in 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 23 
 
 public, that the celebrated courtier and diplo- 
 matist — the emperor's favourite, had become the 
 declared admirer of the ** lady abbess;'' for so 
 Ludmilla was now always nicknamed, with a pe- 
 culiar significancy of tone. The belles, who had 
 hitherto imagined that they possessed some claims 
 on his attention, were of opinion that such infatua- 
 tion was both unaccountable and unpardonable. 
 At the same time, they tried to console themselves 
 with the belief that the caprice would not last long. 
 Meanwhile, Zriny had been regularly introduced 
 to the Baron de Ferronay, who, whatever might be 
 his feelings respecting the young count's behaviour 
 towards Ludmilla, could not venture to close his 
 doors against the acknowledged protege and con- 
 fidant of the emperor. 
 
24 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 One formidable difficulty was thus got over, and 
 Zriny could visit Ludmilla, though not so frequently 
 as he could have wished, nor was she altogether 
 satisfied with her present situation ; for either out 
 of spite or from prudential motives, her aunt and 
 cousins seemed to have laid down an unalterable 
 law, that the lovers were never to have one moment 
 for conversation alone. This caution, however, so 
 completely failed in its object, that it only induced 
 Zriny to contrive means for clandestine meetings ; — 
 and henceforth an undisturbed intercourse with the 
 object of her affections completed the transforma- 
 tion of Ludmilla's character. Zriny's intellectual su- 
 periority now attracted her far more than the grace 
 of his personal demeanour at their first meeting ; 
 while in the wild flights of her imagination and her 
 ardour of temperament, he also found charms by 
 which he was irresistibly and irrecoverably influ- 
 enced. He had not only made her the mistress 
 of his affections, but the confidante of his thoughts, 
 and was delighted when her active mind and sym- 
 pathetic energy followed the train of his ideas. He 
 imparted to her his own views of the great world ; 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 25 
 
 he spoke of the various situations of different Eu- 
 ropean states ; especially on the predicament in 
 which his native land of Hungary was then placed 
 towards Austria. Above all, he painted in brilliant 
 colours the court of Louis XIV., dwelling especially 
 on the high regard which was there paid to female 
 influence, and the enjoyments derived from the 
 cultivation of literature, and the arts in the better 
 circles at Paris and Versailles. So exciting were 
 these descriptions, and so perfectly in unison with 
 the latent principles of Ludmilla's mind, that it 
 was not to be wondered she should become more 
 than ever attracted to the individual to whom she 
 was indebted for her knowledge of this new world, 
 and united to whom, she might one day hope even 
 to enter its magic circles. 
 
 Through the whole period of the carnival, and 
 even some time after its termination, did this inter- 
 course continue. The offended belles of the capi- 
 tal, whose only consolation bad been in their pre- 
 dictions, that the young courtier's mind would soon 
 change, had confined themselves hitherto to irony 
 and sarcasm. At length, however, they became ex- 
 asperated, and directed their open censure and 
 malignant calumnies against both Ludmilla and 
 Zriny. To Catherine's quiet mind the danger had 
 been long apparent ; she had admonished and 
 warned, but in vain; for her elder sister was too 
 proud to admit of any such interference. At length, 
 however, Catherine was roused to new and more 
 serious efforts. With the ardour of sincere affec- 
 tion, but a calm and clear understanding, she 
 pointed out the dangers of Ludmilla's situation, 
 and reminded her that the solemn vow made by 
 
26 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 their mother, could not with impunity be broken or 
 evaded. She told her, as much as prudence war- 
 ranted, of the scandalous remarks which were now 
 circulated in society — finally, implored her no longer 
 to give way to an attachment, which on every prin- 
 ciple, whether of religious duty or worldly pru- 
 dence, must be held ruinous and destructive. 
 
 These well intended expostulations might per- 
 haps have been despised now as formerly, had not 
 Ludmilla herself become aware of approaching evils, 
 which hung over her like a thunder-cloud. The 
 rustic mountaineers of Clamm Castle had in beauty 
 and attractions quite outshone their cousins, and 
 this had proved a source of bitter vexation to the 
 Baroness de Ferronay. Without communicating 
 her design to any one, she had therefore written to 
 the Baroness VolkersdorfF at Clamm Castle, inform- 
 ing her of the unsuitable acquaintance which Lud- 
 milla had formed, and how completely she appeared 
 to have forgotten the duty she owed to her mother, 
 to religion, and the honour of her family. She 
 was diffuse and elaborate in describing the rules 
 and precautions which she had forsooth adopted, in 
 order to prevent any involvement of this kind, and 
 which had all been in vain ; her affection and care 
 being thrown away ; and she concluded with ex- 
 pressing her opinion, that under such circumstances, 
 great as would be her sorrow, and that of her whole 
 family, to part with their dear relatives, it would 
 yet be advisable, if the two young ladies were im- 
 mediately removed from a dangerous scene, where 
 it was quite impossible to prevent one at all events, 
 if not both, from being drawn into destruction. 
 
 On receiving this letter, the Baroness Volkers- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 27 
 
 dorfFwas excessively alarmed. Gladly she would 
 have sent for her daughters, being most anxious for 
 their return home ; but the cause which led to their 
 sojourn at Presburg was by no means removed. 
 The plague, though not with the same virulence, 
 still existed in her neighbourhood ; and she would 
 not venture to put the lives of her children in actual 
 danger. In this emergency, as on all great occa- 
 sions, she had recourse to her domestic chaplain ; 
 but the confidante whom she had hitherto trusted 
 in that capacity, had been recently called away by 
 promotion in the church, and was succeeded by 
 another priest, named father Isidor, from Vienna, 
 who had come to Clamm Castle powerfully recom- 
 mended. 
 
 To this clergyman the baroness imparted her 
 maternal fears, and by his counsel it was resolved 
 that he should write in name of his patroness to 
 the Baron and Baroness de Ferronay, explaining, 
 that as it would be highly improper to bring the 
 two young ladies home to the district of the plague, 
 it was especially desirable that they might be sent 
 for a time to some remote country seat on their 
 uncle^s estates, where they would be out of harm's 
 way. At the same time Ludmilla received a letter, 
 also written by the priesf s hand, authorized by 
 her mother, wherein the enormity of her conduct, 
 her neglect of every duty, and the everlasting 
 punishment she would thus draw on herself, were 
 painted in the most glaring colours. 
 
 These letters arrived precisely at the time, when 
 Catherine had again made an attempt to work on 
 her sister's feelings, and Ludmilla, under such com- 
 bined influence, expressed gratitude for such af- 
 
28 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 fectionate care, and promised to reflect on the 
 suggestions offered. 
 
 In truth, there was observed soon afterwards 
 such a complete alteration of conduct, between 
 Ludmilla and Zriny, as surprised every one, and 
 gave rise to various remarks and surmises in the 
 fashionable world. By degrees, Zriny bestowed 
 more and more of his attention on Catherine, pro- 
 portionately withdrawing it from Ludmilla, who 
 also assumed gradually her former seriousness of 
 demeanour, with a notable addition of gloom and 
 abstraction. 
 
 Astonished, but not without a mixture of other 
 feelings, Catherine received the distinguished marks 
 of attention paid to her by the Viennese courtier. 
 He often led her into conversation, made her the 
 confidante of his hereditary misfortunes, his father's 
 fate, and his own melancholy temperament. — 
 Chance had surrounded him with splendour and 
 luxury, — honours had been heaped on him ; yet 
 the image of his father bleeding on the scaffold, 
 had never ceased to haunt his imagination : he 
 saw that there was no happiness for him in this 
 world ; nay, every one with whom he became con- 
 nected was drawn into the vortex of his own 
 gloomy destiny. He led her to believe it was this 
 fatality which had induced his attachment to an 
 object, that by the most sacred obligations was 
 placed beyond the sphere of earthly love, and to 
 imagine how great was the pain caused by this dis- 
 covery, and by the necessity of combating a pas- 
 sion already become powerful. In short, he did 
 not introduce himself to Catherine as a lover, but 
 rather as an unfortunate man in search of sym- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 29 
 
 pathy and consolation, by which means he made 
 a deep impression on the heart of this innocent 
 and unsuspecting girl. If Ludmilla had been won 
 by his personal accomplishments and brilliant 
 talents, Catherine was no less interested by his 
 misfortunes. In truth, her good nature and vanity 
 were at once enlisted in his cause, and she was the 
 less inclined to keep watch over her own heart, as 
 she looked on. herself as a betrothed bride, and 
 never for a moment suspected that the interest she 
 felt for Zriny, could interfere against that steady 
 and quiet confidence which, from early youth, she 
 had been taught to repose in Szlatinski. Zriny 
 appeared before her, not as a lover, but as a being 
 of a far higher class ; wild as his expressions often 
 were, she confided in whatever he said, not from 
 any inward conviction that he was in the right, 
 but because she supposed it impossible that a man 
 so much admired, and who had seen so much of 
 the world, could be in the wrong. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ludmilla observed this daily increas- 
 ing intercourse, and to the astonishment of all, 
 seemed to regard it with the most perfect compo- 
 sure. Nay, she even expressed her satisfaction, 
 that the brilliant courtier had found a new object 
 for his attentions, and that she was again left in 
 peace. Moreover, she undertook in turn the part 
 of monitress, and seriously warned Catherine against 
 too frequent interviews with a man, who, whatever 
 were his talents, did not seem to possess much of 
 the virtue of constancy. 
 
 At this unexpected change, the family of th€ 
 Baron de Ferronay were exceedingly perplexed, 
 and although the quiet manner in which Catherine 
 
30 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 received the attentions paid her, did not allow 
 them the same ostensible cause for apprehension, 
 yet remembering her engagement to Sandor Szla- 
 tinski, they were by no means satisfied with this 
 new attachment ; and on the whole, they decided 
 on taking advantage of the first fine weather in 
 spring in order to visit their country estate. The 
 baron, however, looked incredulous when his lady 
 assured him, that there was no longer any need 
 for watchful solicitude respecting Ludmilla. He 
 seemed to doubt the reality of a change so sudden, 
 but in other respects, was perfectly contented with 
 the proposal of retiring into the country, which 
 could now be carried into effect without remarks 
 or opposition. He advised, however, that the baro- 
 ness should at all events keep a watchful eye over 
 Ludmilla. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The resolution to quit Presburg for the country 
 was announced in the family circle, to the great 
 discontent of the young ladies of Ferronay, who 
 by no means wished that the amusement of the 
 capital should be so soon broken up. Count 
 Zriny was reduced au desespoir, and complained 
 that this unforeseen change, which deprived him 
 of his kind and sympathizing confidante, was a 
 new and cruel machination of that implacable des- 
 tiny which never ceased to persecute him. Cathe- 
 rine herself was deeply grieved at the separation 
 from a friend whose conversation had become so 
 interesting, and who had of late appeared so un- 
 happy. She wept not merely for herself, but for 
 his distresses ; but at last, with prayer and patience, 
 submitted to the will of Providence, which had de- 
 creed a separation, perhaps indispensably requisite 
 for her own and Sandor Szlatinski's future peace. 
 Of all the family, however, Ludmilla appeared the 
 most deeply depressed ; though to her it might 
 have been supposed that the departure from town 
 was a matter of indifference. Gloomy and irritable, 
 she shut herself up in her own apartment, and was 
 
32 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 frequently occupied half the day in writing; though 
 with regard to the subject, or form of the compo- 
 sition, Catherine was kept wholly ignorant. 
 
 Whilst they were in this mood of mind, the day 
 arrived for their departure. The whole family 
 party, Ludmilla and Catherine of course included, 
 mounted on horseback ; they were followed by a 
 numerous escort of attendants, also by wagons 
 loaded with clothes and furniture ; so that on their 
 arrival at the Danube, the procession occupied the 
 whole length of the flying bridge on which they 
 crossed the river. Rapidly did they leave behind 
 them its verdant banks, and under the bright sky 
 of a beautiful spring day, proceeded through the 
 far-stretching plains, presenting an appearance not 
 unlike that of an eastern caravan, from their num- 
 ber and the clouds of dust, which even at several 
 miles' distance announced their approach. 
 
 By short daily routes, so that the ladies might 
 not be too much fatigued, was the journey conti- 
 nued ; and the sisters of Volkersdorff found even 
 here in the flat country, not a little to excite their 
 admiration. Far as the eye could reach, there was 
 neither hill nor rock to be seen ; a vast extent of 
 level country stretched around, faintly bordered, it 
 is true, by blue hills, which were not distinguish- 
 able from clouds on the distant horizon. There 
 were no shady woods, no clear streams rushing 
 through their pebbly channels, as in Styria. How- 
 ever, on these plains now waved verdant and rich 
 crops of corn and wheat ; the blessing of Provi- 
 dence seemed to rain on the country, and to re- 
 ward an hundred-fold the labours of the husband- 
 man. The villages also wore an aspect which to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 33 
 
 the sisters was quite novel ; — house joined to 
 house without garden or trees — even without the 
 ornamental vines and gourds, which in Austria 
 cling round the cottages. But the neat little win- 
 dows were adorned by painting in various colours. 
 Even the walls were chequered by a kind of pat- 
 tern drawing. Before every house-door there was a 
 projecting vestibule, and often were noticeable the 
 mounds of earth, covering pits ; in which, instead of 
 granaries, the farmer keeps his stores. The novelty 
 of the whole scene was completed by the national 
 dress of the people ; the men on working days 
 with their short linen jerkins, trunk hose ; or on 
 holidays, having the blue jacket flung over one 
 shoulder, and the rest of their attire fitting close, 
 so as to show the figure to advantage, and giving a 
 half martial air of defiance to the tout ensemble. The 
 women were yet more remarkable. The boddice 
 was particoloured, and often interspersed with gold 
 ornaments. They had white aprons, of which the 
 borders were adorned with embroidery, in coloured 
 worsted ; beneath which the dress was tucked up, 
 that they might walk with more freedom, and 
 showing the red and yellow boots, which reached 
 the middle of the leg. About the head and shoul- 
 ders was worn a long narrow stripe of white linen, 
 with embroidered ends, fastened behind to the red 
 worsted girdle. The jerkin, with its wide sleeves, 
 was, at the shoulders and collar, embroidered in 
 worsted, and the whole dress (especially the boots 
 and linen bandaged round the neck, breast, and 
 shoulders,) gave indication of an approach to 
 eastern habits. 
 
 But no less strange than all this, appeared to 
 
 D 
 
34 THE SIEGE OP VIENNA. 
 
 Ludmilla and Catherine, the arrangements of their 
 journey. On the whole road, an inn or house of 
 public entertainment was out of the question. So 
 prudently, however, was their route contrived, that 
 without much deviation from the main road, they 
 arrived always by dinner-time or in the evening, at 
 private residences of the Hungarian landowners, 
 which often adjoined the villages. According to 
 the system in Hungary, many families of distinc- 
 tion, both rich and poor, lived, winter and summer, 
 on their estates, and in habitations which were 
 seldom entitled to the name of castle; nor indeed, 
 did they differ much in outward show, from the 
 ordinary farm-houses by which they were envi- 
 roned. At such stations the whole of our numer- 
 ous party made a full halt, and were invariably 
 entertained with the most cordial hospitality, and 
 even a superfluity of refreshments. If the simple 
 appearance of these mansions outwardly had sur- 
 prized the sisters, they wondered yet more at their 
 inward proofs of opulence. Frequently, where, 
 from the outside, one would have predicted only 
 the poverty, as well as the simple manners of cot- 
 tagers, there was visible a store of massive silver 
 plate, with valuable furniture, and dresses made in 
 cloth of gold ; at once proving the wealth of the 
 inhabitants, and the close neighbourhood of the 
 Turkish frontiers ; which then encroached much 
 farther on Hungary than at the present era. 
 
 On the third day they reached their uncle's pro- 
 perty, named Ferrona, situated a few miles only 
 from the Turkish boundary. The castle stood on 
 an extensive plain, was regularly and strongly 
 built, having a lofty centre tower, provided with a 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 35 
 
 dock, and a handsome terrace sloping down to the 
 garden, which afforded a perfect specimen of the 
 formal style then prevalent, There were long 
 straight walks, with tall wide hedges of evergreens 
 on either side, cropped close and smooth; also em- 
 bowered walks of chesnut-trees, where the branches 
 were regularly trained to exclude the light, and 
 form a perfect gothic arch. There were, moreover, 
 pyramids of yew, and temples of holly ; also foun- 
 tains, where, from gigantic stone basins, tritons and 
 other monsters, spouted up the water, which falling 
 back, produced a soothing, never-ceasing murmur. 
 With the castle the sisters were well content. It 
 was indeed, the finest they had hitherto seen, and 
 on their arrival a large and pleasant apartment was 
 assigned them, opening from the corridor, that 
 with pillars and open arches ran along the inside of 
 the court. 
 
 In the castle was now continued the same sort of 
 life, with regard to social intercourse, which had 
 been kept up on the journey, only with this differ- 
 ence, that the baron's family were for the most part 
 at home, exercising that hospitality towards large 
 parties, which they had before claimed for them- 
 selves. According to the liberal system of the 
 country, all visitors were received with hearty wel- 
 come ; sumptuously entertained, and dismissed 
 with entreaties soon to return, while other guests 
 directly succeeded them. It appeared to the sisters 
 as if the whole of the Hungarian gentry, were con- 
 stantly travelling from house to house, and Avith 
 regard to most of the families, who lived constantly 
 on their estates and interchanged visits, this was 
 actually the case. Notwithstanding such cooviyi- 
 d2 
 
36 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ality, the Baroness de Ferronay did not omit to 
 keep a watchful eye over her nieces, especially 
 Catherine, of whose prudence she was now most 
 apprehensive, but who endured such surveillance 
 with perfect equanimity, having nothing to conceal 
 or indeed to regret, except that Zriny might suffer 
 in mind, from being deprived of a friendly confi- 
 dante. Ludmilla, on the contrary, became every 
 day more and more gloomy ; withdrew herself more 
 and more from society, and would not partake in 
 any amusement ; so that Catherine began to en- 
 tertain serious apprehensions for her health. 
 
 During this bustling life at the castle, there was 
 no want of various pastimes, especially hunting, 
 riding out, in pleasure excursions and dancing as- 
 semblies. On the latter occasion, the orchestra 
 was generally occupied by gipsies, and it was not 
 without great wonder, that Catherine, for the first 
 time, saw these dark-complexioned children of a 
 foreign clime, whose appearance, features, attire, 
 and mode of life, all betokened their far distant 
 origin. 
 
 Sometimes curiosity led her to address them, 
 but she always firmly refused allowing them an 
 opportunity of looking at her hand, and prophe- 
 cyingher fortune ; while, on the contrary, Ludmilla, 
 eagerly grasping at foreknowledge, would gladly 
 have gained from these swarth sybils some con- 
 firmation of her own secret hopes. 
 
 Some weeks had passed in this manner, visits 
 were paid and received, minor fetes and formal 
 banquets alternated ; but the festivity did not 
 suffice to restore cheerfulness to the sisters, whose 
 hearts were in various ways depressed; but both 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 37 
 
 deeply so. It is true, there was less of the dark 
 shade in Catherine's destiny, and her gentler spirit 
 was more inclined to submit quietly to the lot as- 
 signed her. Yet she also had her hours of silent 
 grief, when, as an affianced bride, she inwardly re- 
 proached herself for inability to forget the attentions 
 of Zriny, and when she witnessed the gloom and 
 discontent that prayed on Ludmilla, — emotions the 
 more dangerous on account of efforts made to shut 
 them up in her own bosom, and conceal them from 
 all the world. Besides, Catherine was tormented 
 with suspicions that her sister must be engaged in 
 some secret correspondence. Very often Ludmilla 
 was deeply occupied in writing, and used the utmost 
 precaution to avoid being observed. Many times 
 she walked alone about the castle and garden, when 
 Catherine dared not accompany her. She re- 
 ceived intelligence, though no one knew how or 
 whence it had come ; while any attempt to gain 
 explanation on these points, only roused her to 
 anger and reproaches. 
 
 Meanwhile arrived St. Sophia's day, and with it 
 a grand festival, given in compliment to the Baro- 
 ness de Ferronay, who was named after the saint. 
 Already were preparations made at the castle, which 
 pointed at the arrival of numerous guests, who 
 would fully occupy all its apartments. Men and 
 maid servants were at work, toiling and scolding 
 each other in hall, corridor, court, and garden ; so 
 that in the confusion it was not possible to keep a 
 watchful eye on all, or even to notice every person 
 who, on one pretext or another, found admittance. 
 Catherine faithfully attended her aunt, assisting in 
 all her domestic labours, while Ludmilla, as usual, 
 
38 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 kept proudly aloof, and scarce ever quitted her 
 chamber. By degrees the guests arrived, friends, 
 relations, neighbours, almost all on horseback, and 
 followed by numberless servants with baggage on 
 packhorses, or even in wagons drawn by ponies. 
 To her amazement, Catherine beheld one vast ca- 
 valcade after another enter the castle court, and 
 could not imagine how it was possible to dispose of 
 so many people. According to Hungarian fashion, 
 however, the impossibility was got over to the 
 perfect satisfaction of all parties. And now com- 
 menced a life of unrestrained festivity. The elder 
 gentlemen smoked their long pipes, gamed, drank, 
 and hunted ; the ladies rode out a pleasuring, the 
 younger cavaliers accompanying them ; and in the 
 evening the whole party re-assembled over a rich 
 banquet in the great hall, which, a la mode antique, 
 was adorned with family pictures, scutcheons, ar- 
 mour, and stags' horns. 
 
 In this hall, on this grand festival day, was laid 
 out a long table, at which the guests took their 
 places, arrayed in the full splendour of national 
 costume. The gentlemen wore their tight jerkins 
 and pantaloons, embroidered with gold or silver ; 
 the short fur cloak, lined with red or blue silk, hung 
 over the left shoulder, and was fastened round the 
 neck with a clasp, usually set with pearls and pre- 
 cious stones. Before sitting down to table, every 
 one laid aside the kalpute, (Hungarian cap,) which 
 was often enriched with an agraffe of brilliants, 
 fastening the rich fur and plume of heron's feathers; 
 also the belt and sabre, which were always studded 
 with gems and gold. The female dresses were not 
 less magnificent ; the boddice, and long-trained 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 39 
 
 gown being either of massive silk, or rich Turkish 
 gold cloth, and liberally adorned with pearls; the 
 wide sleeves, reaching only to the elbow, and the 
 aprons were of costly lace. The married women 
 wore on their heads richly embroidered veils, while 
 the young ladies, for the most part, had only rib- 
 bons or pearls in their hair. 
 
 Catherine was lost in admiration of all this 
 grandeur. The splendour and variety of the scene 
 overpowered for an interval the melancholy thoughts 
 by which she was usually haunted. On Ludmilla, 
 however, no such impression was made. More 
 gloomy, and more abstracted than ever, she sat 
 amid the gay throng, seemingly racked by some one 
 ruling idea, and in a state of most painful anxiety. 
 The banquet was long protracted. Hussars, dressed 
 in the respective uniforms of the families whom 
 they served, and glittering with gold lace, were the 
 attendants. The side-board was loaded with gold 
 and silver plate, and native wines of the finest 
 quality. During the entertainment, a ludicrous 
 contrast was afforded by a number of Sclavonian 
 servants, who, in their wide linen dresses, with wild 
 staring looks, stood at the door, and looked as if 
 dazzled, and utterly confounded at the splendour 
 within. 
 
 At length the banquet had ended. The richly- 
 dressed Hussars, and Sclavonian servants poured 
 into the hall to clear away the tables, place wax 
 lights in the lustres, and to convert the dinner 
 apartment into a ball-room. Ere long, the castle 
 resounded with notes of the liveliest music, rous- 
 ing the hearts of the younger guests of both sexes. 
 As usual, the orchestra was made up by gypsies, 
 
40 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 having for their leader a self-taught child of nature, 
 who, without being able to read a single note of 
 music, could yet play in a masterly style the most 
 difficult dances. The gipsies mustered a strong 
 party. Their sombre, but not ungraceful figures ; 
 the glaring colours in which they had thought pro- 
 per to attire themselves for this festival ; and their 
 intelligent, though wild physiognomies, attracted 
 many remarks. The self-taught artist who led 
 their band, was a good looking personage of middle 
 age, and was followed by others with violoncelloes, 
 drums and flutes ; also by women with triangles 
 and Turkish crescents. One young man was in 
 exterior different from his comrades, and attired 
 neatly in Hungarian costume. A peculiar black- 
 ness of complexion, and bandage over one eye, 
 which had probably been injured in some maraud- 
 ing expedition, together with a handsome shape 
 and graceful demeanour, distinguished him from 
 his companions. 
 
 Twice did the gipsies, playing a wild march, pa- 
 rade round the hall ; then collected themselves in 
 a corner, and began the music of the dance. Ir- 
 resistibly was the applause of every one attracted 
 by their leader, who touched his instrument with 
 unusual dexterity, and drew from it the softest and 
 most melodious tones. At one time he played 
 slow Sclavonian airs, almost slumbrous in their 
 melancholy softness ; then struck up a wild Wal- 
 lachian melody ; and, lastly, had recourse to the 
 national dance, now measured, now unrestrained ; 
 now playful as if in mockery, but abruptly changed 
 into the commanding and majestic ; so setting not 
 only the heels, but hearts of his auditors in mo- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 41 
 
 tion. But the graceful French minuet and Austrian 
 country dance were not forgotten, and a cordial 
 spirit of enjoyment seemed to animate the whole 
 party, Ludmilla alone excepted ; who, since the 
 entrance of the gipsy band, had looked on them 
 with visible perplexity, and in her whole demean- 
 our betrayed unusual agitation. 
 
 During a pause in the amusements of the even- 
 ing, the young swarth-coloured gipsy with the 
 bandage over his eye, begged permission that he 
 might be allowed to show his abilities in a Hun- 
 garian dance, which the baron granted. A young 
 girl stepped forward with him, and from the very 
 commencement, both displayed a degree of spirit 
 and grace, which irresistibly commanded admira- 
 tion. In picturesque attitudes, keeping within a 
 narrow circle, while he seemed with condescending 
 dignity to receive the homage that she paid to him. 
 However, it was not to his partner only that his re- 
 gards were directed. Many times it appeared to 
 Catherine, as if his eye wandered in search of 
 Ludmilla, who also seemed more than ever per- 
 plexed and agitated. An admiring circle of spec- 
 tators collected round the dancers, and while all 
 were thus watching them, a gipsy woman, with 
 large gold rings in her ears, and a bright red 
 bandeau, drew near to Ludmilla, and offered to tell 
 her fortune. Catherine would have repulsed her, 
 and Ludmilla stood irresolute. At that moment 
 the mysterious dancer whirled past, at the same 
 time casting on her a look full of meaning. Lud- 
 milla then stretched out her hand to the gipsy, 
 who muttered a few words in broken German, and 
 retired. Ludmilla seemed greatly struck, soon 
 
42 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 took an opportunity to steal away from the assem- 
 bly, and hastened to her own apartment, where, on 
 Catherine's following her, she requested to be left 
 alone. 
 
 On Catherine's return to the hall, the young 
 gipsy had already ceased to dance ; but every one 
 still spoke loudly in praise of his performance. 
 The baron would willingly have given his guests the 
 amusement of seeing the same dance repeated, and 
 looked about for the youth, but he had left the 
 room. It was not doubted that he would be found 
 in the servants' hall, whither, probably, he had 
 gone in quest of refreshment, but there also he was 
 inquired for in vain. The search was continued 
 through the stables and court ; at last, in the neigh- 
 bouring village ; but with no better success : the 
 gipsy was vanished. Recourse was had to his 
 companions, who answered, that the youth was to 
 them a stranger, having joined their party only a 
 few days before, when, on hearing of the grand 
 fete at Ferrona, he had proposed to go with them, 
 and try his fortune at the castle as a dancer. How- 
 ever, he had not as yet derived any substantial 
 benefit from the applause bestowed on him, for the 
 fi^te was not over, and the gipsies were unpaid. 
 Recollecting this circumstance, all were inclined to 
 give over the search, having no doubt that the run- 
 away dancer would appear of his own accord to re- 
 ceive his money. The festivities of the day were 
 to be closed by a splendid supper. The tables 
 were again brought into the great hall, covered 
 with silver plate, and loaded with viands. 
 
 For the servants, also, in a wide hall below, there 
 was spread a table with suitable refreshments, while 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 43 
 
 the gipsies, by permission, established themselves 
 round a clear blazing fire, which they had kindled 
 in the open court ; for, to them, the being within 
 doors, and having a roof over their heads, seemed a 
 most unnatural restraint. In this situation, how- 
 ever, they were amply supplied with wine and food, 
 and the echo of their choral songs, often rose above 
 the tumultuous mirth in the baronial hall, remind- 
 ing many a one of the handsome young dancer, 
 whose sudden disappearance had given rise to end- 
 less remarks and conjectures. Among the loud 
 and merry guests, Catherine sat silent and abstract- 
 ed, for she had now an especial cause for sadness. 
 A second time she had gone to inquire for Lud- 
 milla, and found that she had retired to bed, feel- 
 ing much indisposed. This indeed was not un- 
 expected, for Ludmilla had seemed ill through 
 the whole day ; but Catherine could not help 
 fearing that the attack was serious ; perhaps her 
 disorder was a dangerous fever ; and, alas ! this 
 happened in a strange house far from home ; far 
 also from any town or medical attendant. 
 
 Baroness Ferronay had sent several times to 
 make inquiries after the invalid, but without suc- 
 cess, for the door was locked. In this there was 
 nothing strange or unaccountable, for in a large 
 house so full of company, it was natural to guard 
 against any mistaken intrusion. Endeavours were 
 made to tranquillize Catherine, who seemed much 
 alarmed at her sister *s absence : however, she re- 
 mained in a state of racking anxiety, and with 
 great impatience waited for the termination of the 
 long banquet, which did not break up until after 
 midnight. 
 
44 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 As soon as it was practicable, she escaped from 
 the party, and hastened to her chamber. In the 
 castle court all was now silent; the gipsy band 
 were gone, only some embers remained of the fire 
 beside which they had supped, which, occasionally 
 rising into a flame, cast a melancholy doubtful 
 light on surrounding objects, casting also a glim- 
 mering reflection on the long open corridor, through 
 which Catherine was obliged to pass. At this mo- 
 ment, the whole scene appeared to her gloomy and 
 ghostly, and as the faint flames rose and fell, it 
 seemed as if spectral shapes were gliding around her 
 in the court below, and along the walls of the 
 corridor. 
 
 At length she had come to the door of the apart- 
 ment which the sisters occupied jointly. She 
 knocked repeatedly, but received no answer. She 
 tried the lock, expecting it would open as usual, 
 but in vain. *' Good Heavens !" she exclaimed, 
 " if Ludmilla perhaps has fainted, or is dying, and 
 thus left so lonely and forsaken V* Mustering all 
 her strength, and in great terror, she shook and 
 rattled the door ; but at that moment a chapeur 
 overtook her with a light in his hand, having been 
 sent by the baroness, who had observed Catherine's 
 departure. Understanding the cause of her alarm, 
 the man also tried to force the door without 
 success : he then set the light on the floor, and ran 
 to fetch a master-key; by which means, at length, 
 the door was opened. Catherine rushed into the 
 room, and to the bed, but it was empty. The ser- 
 vant followed. The uncertain gleams of their sin- 
 gle light, illuminated the apartment but scantily. 
 She searched more and more narrowly about, but 
 
TPIE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 45 
 
 all was chill and desolate. " In God's name, where 
 art thou, Ludmilla?" cried Catherine, terrified 
 almost to death, and trembling with apprehension 
 as the light revealed one corner of the large apart- 
 ment, lest she should see her sister lying senseless 
 or dead ; for no other solution of the mystery oc- 
 curred to her. The servant who carried the light 
 could not help smiling when he was desired to hold 
 it under tables, and behind wardrobes, where it was 
 impossible that any one could be concealed ; but 
 all was in vain ! 
 
 The search was ended, and as the window had 
 strong and close iron bars, it was obvious that 
 Ludmilla must have gone out by the only mode of 
 egress which the room afforded. Under this con- 
 viction, Catherine's self-possession was completely 
 overcome ; with tottering limbs she sank on a 
 chair ; her ideas grew confused, and reason threat- 
 ened to forsake her. The chapeur, who was a faith- 
 ful old servant, knew not if he should run to fetch 
 help, or remain with the young lady, who seemed 
 on the point of fainting. To the relief of both, 
 steps were heard on the corridor, and the baroness 
 made her appearance, wishing, herself, to ascertain 
 what had happened to Ludmilla, and what could 
 be done for her. Astonished, she saw Catherine 
 pale and speechless on a chair, and the faithful 
 Iwan beside her, who, in his broken German, was 
 vainly attempting some words of consolation. 
 
 The baroness interrogated, but Catherine was 
 unable to answer, and Iwan explained as well as he 
 could what had occurred. *' Oh ! she has been run 
 away with, or gone willingly to her own ruin!** 
 cried the baroness. ** Run away with, — run away 
 
46 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 
 
 with, my lady !" sobbed Catherine, scarce audibly; 
 for she would not admit the idea of her sisters' 
 having done aught that was worthy of blame. 
 *' There must be a pursuit after her," said the 
 baroness. *' Iwan, run and tell the baron, and let 
 the hussars saddle their horses. Good heavens ! to 
 think that such scandalous adventures should hap- 
 pen in my house !" With these words she retired, 
 followed by Iwan, and Catherine was left to recover 
 herself as she best could in solitude. 
 
 Very soon the whole house was in uproar. Some 
 little timewas indeed required before the guests, 
 after the previous dancing and banquetting of the 
 day, could be roused from sleep, and quite brought 
 to their senses ; so that many scenes occurred 
 which at another time might have provoked laugh- 
 ter. One cavalier roared for his horse, while still 
 in bed ; another starting up, grasped his sabre, to 
 enter into deadly combat with some imaginary foe. 
 Others swearing at being disturbed, groped in vain 
 for their clothes, or having found them, rushed out 
 upon the corridor, making a tremendous noise, in 
 expectation that robbers and ravishers were to be 
 found in the castle. 
 
 The confusion and outcries roused Catherine from 
 her stupor, and she began calmly to reflect on the 
 past. Whatever had happened in the course of the 
 day, and in the tumult of company, had escaped 
 her, no2v came vividly to remembrance. Through 
 the whole day Ludmilla had been disquieted. At 
 the entrance of the young gipsy with the bandaged 
 eye, she had been visibly agitated. The vehement 
 emotion which she had betrayed during the dance ; 
 her abrupt disappearance after she had spoken to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 47 
 
 the soothsayer ; her request to be left alone when 
 Catherine wished to follow her; the illness probably 
 affected, and the locking of her chamber door; 
 these circumstances all joined together, explained 
 many former circumstances, and gave rise to many 
 anxious forebodings. She reflected on the whole 
 of Ludmilla's past conduct, on her habits of re- 
 tiring to her own apartments, her solitary walks, 
 her frequent letter-writing, her mysterious inter- 
 course with some one beyond the castle gates, from 
 whom she gained intelligence ; and now, oh hea- 
 vens ! it all at once occurred to her that the young 
 gipsy's figure and attitudes in the dance had 
 only too much resemblance to those of Zriny ! 
 What if it were he ? But for what purpose came 
 he hither? Wherefore in this disguise? since he 
 had never been forbidden free entrance to the 
 baron's house; and why had he directed his atten- 
 tion exclusively to Ludmilla, without bestowing 
 a single glance on Catherine, whom he used to 
 style his confidante ? 
 
 These thoughts, however painful and repulsive, 
 could not be suppressed, and Catherine's good sense 
 gradually led her to perceive a connected plan, at 
 which she felt no little indignation, and to which 
 she had been made a contributor. Ludmilla and 
 Zriny had worked on a regularly built scheme ; 
 tlieir flight was in perfect conformity with their 
 mysterious proceedings hitherto, and the appear- 
 ance of the gipsy dancer was no longer a riddle. 
 She burst into tears, not knowing whether she wept 
 on account of Zriny's treachery, Ludmilla's un- 
 amiable conduct, or her apprehensions for the fate 
 of a sister, whom, notwithstanding all that had 
 
4S THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 occurred, she yet sincerely loved, and for whose 
 welfare she was truly anxious. She threw herself 
 into bed, and wept long and bitterly. 
 
 The uproar in the castle gradually subsided. 
 By foot or on horseback, with torches and weapons, 
 almost all the male inhabitants, after a due council 
 of war, had indeed forsaken it, dispersing themselves 
 in various directions, with the hopes of discovering 
 or tracking the runaway. In the opinion of most 
 people, among whom was the Baron de Ferronay, 
 the gipsy band should be the first objects of sus- 
 picion ; for in those times of popular commotion, 
 and sudden inroads of the Turks, it was nothing 
 unusual to find such vagabonds employed for the 
 perpetration of theft, abduction, or any other des- 
 perate scheme. 
 
 During this uncertainty, and greeted by Cathe- 
 rine's tears, dawned the early morning of a summer's 
 day. After a short and perturbed slumber she arose, 
 and began once more to search the apartment, in 
 hopes that some letter, or other evidence might be 
 found to explain the mystery, but in vain. Her sister's 
 wardrobe remained for the most part undisturbed, 
 only some linen, and all her jewels were gone. 
 The longer she reflected, the more certain she be- 
 came that Ludmilla had fled in company with 
 Zriny or his agents, and the conviction sank deeply 
 and bitterly into her heart. In both of them she 
 had been cruelly deceived. Zriny had contrived 
 to appear before her almost as a being of a higher 
 order, while his conduct in reality was made up of 
 duplicity and falsehood. What, then, might be her 
 sister's fate, who by this time probably was altoge- 
 ther in his power ? •- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 49 
 
 She had scarcely dressed, when the baroness 
 came into the room, followed by some of the female 
 guests of the castle; for the occurrences of the 
 night had roused curiosity to the utmost. All 
 wished with their own eyes to see and investigate, 
 and all spoke at one time. The room and ward- 
 robe were searched and talked over, and Catherine's 
 heart sickened and recoiled at their unfeeling and 
 vulgar remarks. Deeply hurt and wounded, she 
 took refuge in the garden, where, at this hour, all 
 was lovely and silent. Even of the birds, only a 
 few were awake, and twittered in the green twi- 
 light of the tall chesnut alleys. Gloomily stood 
 the dark pyramids of yew, like solitary giants rising 
 out of the parterres, laid with variegated sand, and 
 bordered with box- wood. Now rose the sun in 
 cloudless magnificence over the wide champagne 
 country ; larks carolled invisibly in the clear air, 
 and at length the whole world seemed to awake into 
 life. The workmen, with their plough-horses in full 
 harness, rattled past the garden, and with respectful 
 wonder lifted their caps to the noble lady, who at 
 this unaccustomed hour made her appearance in 
 the garden. There was the tinkling of bells, as 
 the flocks and herds were driven out to pasture, 
 followed by the shepherd boy in his white cassock, 
 whose song dolefully modulated, ended without 
 cadence in one long protracted melancholy note. 
 All around her seemed tranquil ; nature, and those 
 who lived with nature, moved in their wonted 
 course ; but in the web of Catherine's destiny, the 
 events of that one night had made a rent which 
 could never again be united. 
 
 Weeping and praying, she wandered through the 
 
60 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 shady walks, and by degrees became somewhat less 
 agitated. Then she heard from afar the trampling 
 of horses, which came rapidly nearer, and she has- 
 tened back to the castle. One party had already 
 returned from their search, and were dismounting 
 in the court ; but to her eager questions, they 
 could only answer, that their endeavours had been 
 wholly in vain. Others followed, and gave the 
 same unsatisfactory reply. At last came the Ba- 
 ron de Ferronay, who had not indeed found any 
 traces of Ludmilla ; but in his own words, about 
 two miles distant, he had discovered the camp of 
 the gipsies ; and having, not without some fight- 
 ing and bloodshed, taken them all prisoners, ex- 
 pected their arrival at the castle, escorted by cha- 
 peurs, and a band of his own peasantry. 
 
 Towards the hour of dinner, all the other explo- 
 rateurs were collected, and on sitting down to table, 
 the party of the preceding day was complete, with 
 the exception of Ludmilla alone. During the ban- 
 quet, an uproar in the castle court announced the 
 arrival of the gipsies, who, in gloomy silence, sur- 
 rounded by a band twice the number of their own, 
 expected that thbir trial would be a severe one, but 
 resolved sturdily to abide their doom, whatever it 
 might be. 
 
 About two hours passed away before they were 
 put to the proof; for great as was Catherine's 
 anxiety, the baron did not consider it necessary to 
 disturb his dinner-party on account of prisoners, 
 who, as he very well knew, could not escape out of 
 his power. At length the long banquet was ended, 
 and De Ferronay took his station in an outer hall, 
 where he ordered the chiefs of the gipsy band to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 51 
 
 be brought before him, one after another, and ex- 
 amined them separately. Their answers were al- 
 most invariably to the same effect. They had not 
 assisted in Ludmilla's escape, and as to the young 
 man who had been their companion, and suddenly 
 disappeared, he was but a recent acquaintance, of 
 whom they knew no more than he had himself told 
 them. It was but a few days since he had first 
 joined their party, saying that he came from Sie- 
 benburgen, where he had lost an eye during a 
 skirmish with the Turks. He had not staid con- 
 stantly among them, but always made his appear- 
 ance at their camp, late in the evening. In disposi- 
 tion he seemed reserved and gloomy, at the same 
 time resolute and courageous, so that their captain 
 would have been very glad to secure him for a re- 
 gular recruit; consequently they made no objection 
 to his accompanying them to the castle, where he 
 proposed exhibiting as a dancer ; nor did they 
 wonder at his sudden departure, which had often 
 occurred before, only he had on this occasion staid 
 longer than usual, and they knew not what had 
 become of him. 
 
 This was all that on the strictest cross-examina- 
 tion could be extracted from the gipsies; nor did 
 threats of being put to the torture, which they 
 knew was in the baron's power, induce them in the 
 slightest degree to vary their statements. He then 
 had recourse to the gipsy women, whose accounts 
 only corroborated what had gone before, until a 
 handsome young girl made her appearance ; who 
 confessed that the stranger from Siebenburgen^ had 
 entrusted her with a small sealed billet to be given 
 E 2 
 
52 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 during the ball, to a young Austrian lady dressed 
 in light blue silk, with a white rose in her hair. At 
 first she was afraid to undertake the commission, 
 but the young man had requested her in such 
 moving terms, aind was so kind and handsome, that 
 she could refuse him nothing. On this disclosure, 
 Catherine was summoned and interrogated, whether 
 she knew of her sister having received any such 
 communication. Trembling and terrified, she as- 
 sured the baron that she had not seen the letter, 
 but perfectly remembered the gipsy, who still 
 wore a red handkerchief round her head, as the 
 same who had yesterday evening told her sister's 
 fortune ; adding that, immediately after that occur- 
 rence, Ludmilla had retired, forbidding Catherine 
 to follow her, and had shut herself up in her cham- 
 ber. 
 
 So ended the investigations respecting the run- 
 away. Though all the families in the neighbour- 
 hood were informed of the circumstance, and were 
 willing to aid in the search, yet it appeared utterly 
 hopeless. Some intelligence did indeed arrive 
 afterwards, which afforded but little elucidation, 
 and only roused painful suspicions. Certain of the 
 peasantry on the baron's grounds, who lived close 
 to the Turkish frontier, declared that they had 
 seen a Tartar troop pass on horseback, among 
 whom there was a veiled lady, who seemed in high 
 spirits, and was earnestly engaged in conversation, 
 with a Turk, whose demeanour and dress marked 
 him as the captain of the party, and who watched 
 every step of her horse, often seizing the rein to 
 guide the animal when they came on difficult 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 53 
 
 ground. The time when this troop was seen, cor- 
 responded with the second day after Ludmilla*s 
 flight ; but it appeared inconceivable to all the 
 guests in the castle, how the pious and rigidly 
 formal *' lady abbess," could thus willingly asso- 
 ciate with heathens, and enemies to the Christian 
 faith. Catherine alone did not wonder at this ; for 
 the interest seemed naturally enough to rise out of 
 the schemes which she suspected to exist betwixt 
 Zriny and her sister ; but in the baron's house, she 
 was on her guard not to utter a word alluding to 
 the painful thoughts that lurked in her mind. 
 
 Day after day passed, without any intelligence 
 of Ludmilla. It became absolutely necessary to 
 write to Baroness VolkersdofF on the subject, lest 
 the evil tidings should reach her through some 
 other channel, and, if possible, distress her more, 
 than if communicated through friends. Baron 
 Ferronay himself undertook the task of writing to 
 his sister, and availed himself of the opportunity to 
 express his wish that Catherine, who was his espe- 
 cial favourite, should still be suffered to remain 
 under his care. This, however, would have been 
 by no means agreeable to the young lady, who 
 found the behaviour of her aunt and cousins ex- 
 ceedingly irksome. From the commencement they 
 had taken opportunities of expressing their con- 
 tempt for Austrian manners, dress, and education ; 
 looking on their own country as infinitely superior 
 to any part of Germany. Since Ludmilla*s flight, 
 they had expressed themselves coarsely and un- 
 kindly ; so that it was Catherine's earnest wish to 
 escape as soon as possible from a circle, in which 
 
54 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA* 
 
 she was daily condemned to hear sarcastic remarks 
 on the improper education of young German ladies; 
 on the poverty of the Austrian noblesse, and their 
 vain efforts to compete with the Austrian magnates, 
 who lived on their estates like petty sovereigns, and 
 whom the king himself was obliged to treat with 
 respect. 
 
 In her lonely hours Catherine had now no other 
 resort but in tears ; but she was too proud to betray 
 her vexation among such uncongenial relations: on 
 the contrary, her indignation at the unprovoked 
 insults to which she was exposed, sometimes roused 
 her to answer them in a tone which they little ex- 
 pected. By4hat means, however, she could not less- 
 en the irksomeness of her situation, and she longed 
 ardently to exchange the so styled pleasures and 
 splendour that surrounded her here, or at Presburg, 
 for the quietness of Clamm Castle, half-ruined and 
 desolate as it was, reflecting bitterly, that had she 
 never quitted the asylum of her early years, to min- 
 gle in the gaieties of the world, she would have 
 avoided all the sorrow and anxiety to which she 
 was now subjected. 
 
 Even on her engagement to Sandor Szlatinski, 
 she could no longer look with wonted satisfaction 
 and confidence. Her own credulous vanity had 
 wrought destruction in the flattering prospects, 
 which an attachment to the companion of her 
 youth, had once inspired ; she had allowed too 
 much space in her heart for the dazzling image of 
 another, whom, notwithstanding the evidences of 
 his treachery, she was unable to banish from her 
 remembrance. On the other hand, she was clearly 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 55 
 
 convinced, that had Szlatinski been present during 
 their sojourn in Hungary, his instinctive knowledge 
 of character, and firm good sense, would have pro- 
 tected both Ludmilla and herself from the entan- 
 glements and distress into which they had been 
 led. 
 
56 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The baroness did not acknowledge her brother's 
 letter in due course. The news which it contained 
 had added so heavily to the load of misfortune 
 which she had already encountered, that she be- 
 came seriously ill : and it was not till after the 
 lapse of an entire fortnight, that her chaplain re- 
 ceived instructions to address the baron, expressing 
 her grief at the recent occurrence, and ending with 
 a peremptory request, that Catherine might be im- 
 mediately sent home. Baron Ferronay was on this 
 occasion seriously offended. In the first place, he 
 felt sorry to part with Catherine ; but in the abso- 
 lute command for her quitting his house, there was 
 conveyed, in his opinion, an indirect reproach, that 
 sufficient care had not been taken of the elder 
 sister. In this light also, the baroness pretended 
 to view the matter. Sincerely wishing at all ha- 
 zards to get rid of a niece, whose personal attrac- 
 tions much exceeded those of her own daughters, 
 she used every endeavour to excite her husband's 
 wrath against Baroness Volkersdorff, who, instead 
 of feeling obliged by the hospitality shown towards 
 her family, had chosen to add reproaches and in- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 57 
 
 gratitude to the disgrace already brought on the 
 house of Ferronay by Ludmilla's misconduct. 
 
 Consequently, preparations were made for send- 
 ing Catherine back to Presburg, where she was 
 met by her mother's confidential kammerpaw. With 
 the exception of her kind uncle, there was no one 
 at Ferrona from whom she regretted to part ; on 
 the contrary, she rejoiced at being freed from 
 a society, which, from the first, had only caused to 
 her embarrassment and anxiety, which was becom- 
 ing daily more and more oppressive. 
 
 The summer had already passed, and autumnal 
 tints were on the trees, when she arrived in the 
 lonely and rocky ravine of Clamm Castle. There 
 she found her mother greatly changed. The blow 
 inflicted by Ludmilla's elopement had entirely de- 
 stroyed the last remains of her cheerfulness and 
 courage, under bereavement and misfortune ; and 
 the conduct of her present spiritual adviser seemed 
 calculated to increase, rather than lessen, her m- 
 ward gloom. All the happiness of this world, he 
 insisted, should be destroyed, in order that the 
 heart may be compelled to fix its affections on 
 another. Mankind should have no dependence, 
 but on that which is invisible and eternal . The 
 ties of love, and even parental affection, all that 
 inspires earthly hopes or fears, should be considered 
 as obstacles in the way to salvation. 
 
 In consequence of his lectures, Baroness Volkers- 
 dorflP was agitated by the most appalling apprehen- 
 sions of having drawn on herself the wrath of 
 Heaven, by suffering the destined ** bride of the 
 church," to desert the vocation assigned to her, 
 and began to reflect that the only method of avert- 
 
58 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ing divine vengeance was by compelling Catherine 
 to make the sacrifice which had been expected from 
 her sister. In order to encourage and strengthen 
 her in this plan, it is almost superfluous to say, that 
 father Isidor used every argument which his in- 
 genuity could devise; and it was not long after her 
 arrival at Clamm Castle, ere Catherine ascertained 
 that her future prospects were most painfully, as 
 well as most unexpectedly changed. In vain did 
 she weep and expostulate, in vain also did she de- 
 clare the impossibility of acquiring the requisite 
 dispositions for so serious an undertaking. Her 
 arguments were of no avail against the terrors of 
 the baroness, and the blind zeal of her holy con- 
 fessor. The former declared that her own salva- 
 tion, and the fate of the whole family depended 
 on Catherine's submission to take the veil ; while 
 the monk, by arguments equally incomprehensible 
 and erudite, maintained that a sacrifice made con- 
 trary to the dictates of nature, and impulses of the 
 heart, was far more acceptable in the estimation of 
 the Almighty, than if it were an act of uncon- 
 strained choice and volition. The spirit of the 
 unhappy girl was worn out in this obstinate con- 
 test ; she knew not where to turn for advice and 
 consolation, and saw no means of ending the strife, 
 but by submitting to arbitrary power, and resigning 
 herself to her destiny. 
 
 Under these adverse circumstances, Catherine 
 had neither leisure nor inclination to express her sus- 
 picions, with regard to the secret intercourse which 
 probably had been kept up betwixt Ludmilla and the 
 fascinating Zriny , whose image, though not so vividly 
 as heretofore, still dwelt in her memory. It was 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENKA. 59 
 
 with great pain also, that she now reflected on the 
 dying words of her indulgent and affectionate 
 father, whose last moments had been soothed by 
 the conviction, that she would become the wife of 
 Sandor Szlatinski. Even the baroness seemed to 
 hesitate when this was brought to her recollection. 
 There were conflicting engagements, and both 
 should be held sacred. However, father Isidor was 
 clearly of opinion that an engagement made to 
 the church, at the altar of the Virgin, was of para- 
 mount importance, to which every other duty must 
 yield, and in her present state of mind she was too 
 ready to receive the monk's advice as the words of 
 an oracle. It was therefore intimated to Catherine, 
 that nothing could alter her future destination in 
 life, in regard to which the will of Heaven was 
 clearly apparent ; and father Isidor undertook to 
 inform Sandor Szlatinski of the necessity to give 
 up his intended bride, who, from henceforward, was 
 betrothed to the church. 
 
 Willingly as the baroness, and at last Catherine 
 herself, seemed to join in this plan, the young 
 Polish cavalier, was by no means so pliant as was 
 expected. On the contrary, having received the 
 letter of father Isidor, he set out in furious haste 
 for Clamm Castle, and arrived there in a mood of 
 anger for which the baroness was unprepared, and 
 at which she was exceedingly alarmed. Resolutely 
 and calmly, however, he reminded her of the solemn 
 promises and engagements made at the death-bed 
 of the late baron, and insisted on the duties that 
 must be fulfilled to the deceased, and his daughter. 
 He declared, moreover, that he was willing to take 
 Catherine for his wife, without dowry, and without 
 
60 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 making any claim now or afterwards on the family 
 estates ; nay, her relations might, if they chose, 
 cast her off as an alien, with whom they would 
 hold no farther intercouse ; but never would he 
 agree to renounce his betrothed bride ; to whom, 
 in the eyes of God and man, he was already united ; 
 or suffer one to be rendered miserable for whose 
 future welfare and happiness, he had solemnly 
 sworn to provide. 
 
 Such language was not without its effect on the 
 baroness. Szlatinski, she knew, might with truth 
 plead that his rights were sacred, and she herself 
 might be answerable to Heaven for refusing to ful- 
 fil the dying injunctions of a husband and father. 
 Such conflicting duties produced an awkward 
 dilemma, and it required the utmost exertions of 
 the holy confessor's eloquence to quiet the storm 
 thus raised. Nor was the monk himself tranquil 
 on this occasion. The obstacles he had to encoun- 
 ter made his zeal the more fervent. His own ho- 
 nour was at stake, and he determined at all risks to 
 secure a sacrifice to the church, which would other- 
 wise be thrown away on the world. He had pri- 
 vate interviews with all parties, and addressed each 
 in a style best adapted to work on the passions. 
 With the baroness, however, he had little trouble. 
 She was, indeed, horror-struck by the idea that 
 her lamented husband could not rest in his grave, 
 if his dying injunctions were disobeyed ; but the 
 monk promised that numberless masses should be 
 said for the weal and repose of his soul ; and 
 convinced her that the doubts and fears, the pain 
 and agitation she now suffered, if borne with pa- 
 tience, would obtain her an everlasting reward. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 61 
 
 But to lead Catherine, after the return of Szlatin- 
 ski, was no easy task. With consummate art he 
 reminded her of the severe trials, and complicated 
 misfortunes to which her mother had been subject- 
 ed ; her old age and increasing maladies, under 
 which it would be cruel to refuse whatever con- 
 solation could be afforded. He insisted that the 
 mere conviction of having saved at least one daugh- 
 ter from the seductions of the world, and the snares 
 of the devil, would ensure to the baroness happiness 
 for the remainder of her life, and peace in the 
 grave. These, as he well knew, were the only ar- 
 guments which could effect his purpose, and at 
 last they prevailed. He extorted from Catherine 
 a promise, that she would no longer resist her 
 mother's wishes and commands. 
 
 Of course, the most formidable task for the 
 monk was his interview with Szlatinski, whose 
 clear understanding was not to be blinded by 
 sophistry; but here also he had concerted a plan. 
 The monk had correspondents of his own fraternity 
 in Presburg, as well as in almost every other town 
 of consequence in Hungary and Austria, conse- 
 quently, was well informed of what had taken 
 place during the preceding winter at the house of 
 Baron de Ferronay, especially of Zriny's attention 
 to the sisters. This information he now turned to 
 admirable good account, and contrived to make 
 out a story of Catherine's meetings with the bril- 
 liant young chamberlain, of their constant inter- 
 course, and the favour with which she received 
 his addresses. A narrative so circumstantial and 
 pointed, that it most effectually awoke the hitherto 
 unknown torment of jealousy in the heart of his 
 
62 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 victim. The moment he perceived that he had 
 gained this advantage, the monk boldly followed it 
 up with assertions, which before he would not for 
 a moment have ventured to make, but which now 
 passed without investigation or contradiction. Ca- 
 therine's manners towards him had been colder than 
 he expected, and she seemed almost resigned to 
 the will of her mother ; and this conduct, father 
 Isidor represented as being, on her part, entirely 
 voluntary, as, having been disappointed in the new 
 object of her affections, she was on that account 
 willing to sacrifice her youth to the cloister. How- 
 ever, on one point, Szlatinski remained inflexible. 
 He was determined to have a final interview with 
 Catherine, and judge by her own words, whether 
 there was any ground for his jealousy. 
 
 Unfortunately, the monk's plan had been too 
 skilfully laid. Catherine was already bound by 
 the promises he had exacted from her, that she 
 would offer no farther resistance to her mother's 
 will. Szlatinski appeared before her in a mood, 
 which alone was calculated to prevent any out- 
 ward demonstration of the still existing affection 
 she cherished towards him ; and to his vehement 
 questions, she replied w^ith the most perfect 
 frankness, that for a short time Count Zriny had 
 paid her persevering attentions, and that she then 
 felt some interest in his character and fate. After 
 a stormy interview, Szlatinski considered himself 
 bound to retire from the field, and to give up his 
 rights. Alas ! the young people were unconscious 
 that each acted under a mistaken impression, which 
 their confidence in the artful monk had produced ; 
 and during the short time which Szlatinski spent 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 63 
 
 at Clamm Castle, it was father Isidores especial 
 care to keep up the delusion, and prevent any 
 possibility of explanation. At last Szlatinski spoke 
 to the baroness. Without mentioning the true cause 
 of his sudden determination, which he thought 
 would have been a breach of faith towards Cathe- 
 rine, he intimated that he had given up all preten- 
 sions to her hand. Yet, at the same time, he endea- 
 voured by every possible means to persuade the 
 baroness against the plan of immuring her daugh- 
 ter in a convent ; for though he could not have 
 Catherine for a wife, he would nevertheless wish to 
 protect her against that fate which must terminate 
 in her lasting misery. As the reader may surmise, 
 he completely failed in his good endeavours in this 
 respect, and father Isidor was of course prepared 
 to explain, after his own manner, the sudden change 
 in Szlatinski's conduct, ascribing it to any motive 
 rather than the true one, — his own sophistry and 
 treachery ! 
 
 The young Polish knight had departed ; — but 
 during the last days of his abode at the castle, 
 there had been visible in his demeanour a deep 
 melancholy. His cheeks were pale, his gestures 
 were unsteady and constrained. Even the violent 
 anger and injustice which he had shown towards 
 Catherine, were additional proofs that in one part 
 of her reckoning she had erred, and that she had 
 greatly under-rated the amount of her kinsman's 
 affection. By such thoughts she was alarmed, de- 
 pressed, and mortified ; and when, in the tranquil- 
 lity of solitude, she had time to reflect, past and 
 recent occurrences appeared to her mind in a far 
 different light. She bitterly reproached herself for 
 
64 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 inconsistency^ vanity, and having yielded to the 
 seductions of the world ; till at last, the being 
 obliged to assume the veil in her sister's place 
 seemed but as the fitting punishment for her own 
 evil conduct. In this mood she submitted, with 
 humility and self-abasement, to the will of her 
 mother, and found a melancholy satisfaction in re- 
 tiring to her cell, where she would offer up prayer 
 and penance, in behalf of those, whom she could 
 never more meet in this world. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A YEAR had passed away, during which Catherine 
 had remained in the deepest retirement. Both 
 Szlatinski and Baron de Ferronay, had made 
 extreme exertions, but no news were obtained of 
 Ludmilla. The former no longer corresponded 
 with the inhabitants of Clamm Castle, but made 
 known to De Ferronay the result of his inquiries, 
 which still remained unsuccessful. He himself, 
 lived much in Warsaw, at the court of King John 
 Sobieski, between which and his estates, he divided 
 his time, endeavouring by application to public 
 affairs, and the management of his property, to 
 forget the impression of his own disappointments 
 and sorrows. As for Count Zriny, he was still 
 busily engaged, sometimes at Vienna, sometimes at 
 Paris, or other places, being, as it was said, con- 
 stantly entrusted by the emperor, on important 
 diplomatic missions. Hearing this, Catherine was 
 more than ever disquieted regarding the fate of her 
 sister, being unable even to conjecture in how far 
 it was joined to that of Zriny. 
 
 During this tedious year, there was no other 
 subject of conversation at Clamm Castle, but the 
 
 F 
 
66 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 question where to find a proper situation for Cathe- 
 rine, in her future conventual life ; and after the 
 several advantages of Vienna, Gratz, and Neustadt 
 had been considered, the capital was resolved on. 
 Thither, therefore, father Isidor was dispatched in 
 order to arrange the requisite preliminaries, and 
 after due deliberation the convent of *^ Heaven's 
 Gate" was chosen for her future abode. 
 
 The spring of the next year, 1683, was fixed for 
 her taking the veil, and father Tsidor had secured 
 for Catherine a temporary asylum in the house of 
 Madame von Preysing, the highly respectable wi- 
 dow of a colonel in the Imperial service, whose 
 house was at no great distance from the convent of 
 Heaven's Gate. To Catherine, such arrangements 
 were a matter of indifference. She had never yet 
 been at Vienna, and cared not with whom she was 
 to reside, only wishing that she should not enter 
 into any order of which the discipline was lenient ; 
 for as it had been fixed that she should renounce 
 the world, and do penance for her sin, the severer 
 the rule was, of course it suited better for this pur- 
 pose. In truth, she would have preferred one of 
 those establishments of which the discipline is so 
 strict, as not even to permit an interview with the 
 nearest relative ; but to this her mother's affection 
 would by no means consent. 
 
 With unremitting assiduity, but with a heavy 
 heart. Baroness VolkersdorfF made the requisite 
 preparations for her daughter's wardrobe in her new 
 vocation. Through many a dull and mournful day 
 in the month of September, when the weather was 
 already tempestuous and broken, did the mother 
 and daughter sit together as long as the day per- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 67 
 
 mitted at their work-table, desirous to complete 
 with their own hands whatever was requisite for the 
 object in view. 
 
 But little conversation took place during this 
 labour, for both were absorbed in their own mourn- 
 ful thoughts. The mother, who had already suf- 
 fered so many deprivations, had no prospect, after 
 her daughter's departure, but that of a life altogether 
 joyless and lonely. As for Catherine, she was un- 
 willing to leave the baroness ; the new world into 
 which she was to be introduced, after her first expe- 
 rience in Hungary, only excited apprehensions and 
 distrust. Moreover, in spite of the alleged neces- 
 sity for penance and mortification, she could not 
 think of the conventual life without a degree of 
 horror, which had much increased since Sandor 
 Szlatinski's last visit to the castle. Indeed, she 
 had, until that last interview with him, never known 
 or suspected that she was loved, or witnessed the 
 existence of that passion. The deep emotion, the 
 noble firmness shown by Szlatinski at that meeting, 
 had for the first time awoke in her mind an impres- 
 sion how inestimable was the afiection of such a 
 man ; and no sooner were her eyes opened to this 
 important truth, than she found herself obliged to 
 relinquish for ever the happiness which she might 
 have secured. 
 
 Thus absorbed in gloomy thoughts, the mother 
 and daughter were one evening sitting together in 
 the twilight of an autumnal day. '* Put the work- 
 frames aside," cried the baroness, ** and bring me 
 the spinning wheel, my eyes are painful already." 
 Catherine obeyed in silence ; but meanwhile, her 
 mother had taken out a rosary, inlaid with mother- 
 f2 
 
68 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 of-pearl, the gift of a friend, who had brought it 
 many years ago from a pilgrimage ; and began to 
 say her prayers, without wholly abstracting her 
 attention from what passed around her. Catherine, 
 meanwhile, sat herself in a corner, where she had 
 no light but a faint gleam from some v/ood embers 
 in the fire-place, and industriously plied her spin- 
 ning wheel ; while her thoughts wandered afar. 
 How often had she when a child, played in this 
 room with Sandor Szlatinski ! how often had she 
 heard her father speak of the dignity of his family, 
 and relate anecdotes from the life of this or that 
 general or archbishop, whose portraits, in their 
 faded frames ; and scarce recognisable in the twi- 
 light, now looked down on her from the walls. At 
 those times how different was her situation ! How 
 different were now her future prospects, and what 
 was become of her once destined husband ? Perhaps 
 the betrothed of some unknown beauty, — of a rich 
 and beautiful Polander. This thought seized on 
 her heart with freezing coldness ; her tears dropped 
 on the thread as she spun it, and wetted the work 
 with their bitter dew. 
 
 *' What ails thee, Catherine, — dost thou weep V 
 said her mother ; she answered in the negative. 
 But the baroness answered, '' I know already how 
 it is ; thy heart cleaves to the world, and thou still 
 thinkest of Zriny ; but there must be an end of 
 this.'* 
 
 Catherine made no answer. For awhile also her 
 mother continued her orisons half aloud, letting 
 the coral beads of the rosary slip through her 
 fingers. Suddenly she began again, '^ What 
 frightful weather ! how the storm chases the clouds. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 69 
 
 and bends the fir trees ! Good heavens ! and how 
 it howls in the chimney ! quite frightful !" 
 
 *-' An abominable night !" said Catherine. 
 
 '^ And yet," added her mother after a few mi- 
 nutes, " mark the bright rose yonder on the glim- 
 mering brand, on the hearth ; we may expect a 
 visitor who will arrive to-day*" 
 
 ^' Alas ! mother, of what consequence are such 
 tokens ? What visitor will come to us, above all, in 
 such weather ?" 
 
 ** Wilt thou set thy judgment against mine?" 
 replied her mother ; ''these tokens are sure and 
 undoubted. This has been allowed by all reason- 
 able people." 
 
 Catherine made no opposition. To her, indeed, 
 it was a matter of indifference, whether some one 
 of their country neighbours, perhaps a forst-meister, 
 or dechaut, or jugender land-junker, made his 
 appearance for an evening visit. 
 
 On this, followed another interval of silence. 
 The baroness had ended her devotions ; the great 
 oaken folding doors were opened, and a clear light 
 fell into the chamber. Old Balthazar came tottering 
 in, with lights in massive brass candlesticks, fol- 
 lowed by father Isidor, who came according to es- 
 tablished custom, to pass an hour in discourse and 
 card play with the baroness before supper. Bal- 
 thazar drew the old hazel-nut wood card-table 
 with its folding leaves, before the arm-chair of the 
 baroness, spread the leaves, laid the parti-coloured 
 Tyrol-cloth over it, placed the lights, and wished 
 the party a pleasant evening. Catherine brought 
 cards and counters. Balthazar retired, and the 
 baroness began the dialogue, by inquiring what 
 
70 THE SIEGE OF TIENNA. 
 
 news father Isidor had heard from Vienna or Pres- 
 burg. 
 
 " News I have heard, truly," answered the monk, 
 *'but nothing good. The Turks were zealously 
 continuing their preparations for war, and the Hun- 
 garian malcontents do all they can to assist them. 
 Count Tokely has collected a considerable army, 
 and as my correspondents announce, almost the 
 whole of Upper Hungary is on his side of the ques- 
 tion." 
 
 '* Good God V* sighed the Baroness VolkersdorfF, 
 '^ what will become of poor Hungary?" 
 
 '* A Turkish province, if the present course of 
 affairs should continue," answered father Isidor. 
 
 ** Just Heaven !" exclaimed the lady, *'my un- 
 fortunate country, a Turkish province ! Christi- 
 anity extirpated, the churches overthrown, the 
 people massacred !" 
 
 " Say not so, noble lady," interrupted the chap- 
 lain. *' Those times exist no longer, and you may 
 be well assured, that Count Tokely and his con- 
 fidants, will take good care to protect their own 
 and friends' properties, lives, and religion. Besides, 
 one must not suppose that the present proceedings 
 of the Turkish Court, in conjunction with the Hun- 
 garian malcontents, are to end in a destructive in- 
 road of barbarians, such as formerly devastated 
 Hungary ; or in the outrages of an army exaspe- 
 rated by resistance and bloodshed. The Sublime 
 Porte is in our times to be looked on as one of the 
 European powers just as France or Austria ; un- 
 derstands his advantages just as well as they do, 
 and would much rather rule over a lucrative Chris- 
 tian province, than a depopulated waste." 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 71 
 
 ** But," said the baroness, '* the malcontents 
 are themselves no Christians, if they would give us 
 up into the power of the Turks." 
 
 *^ They are Christians by ' name, truly," said 
 father Isidor with a sigh : ^* Christians they are de- 
 nominated ; but God help us, what sort of Chris- 
 tians I backsliders, renegades, that are even worse 
 than pagans !" 
 
 *' There, you have yourself said it, father," an- 
 swered the baroness; *' and what have we then to 
 expect from them ?" 
 
 ** Nothing good, as I have already said," replied 
 the monk ; ** but it is rumoured that Tokely has made 
 an agreement with the Sublime Porte, that for a 
 yearly tribute of forty thousand dollars, Hungary 
 is to be protected by the Turks." 
 
 '* Good God! protected by the infidels !" 
 
 *' Then farther, in entering into this engagement 
 with them, it is rumoured that he has made espe- 
 cial demands for himself and his friends. It is said 
 also, but this too is without confirmation, that 
 feeling himself too weak to meet the Austrian 
 powers, he tries constantly, by his agents in Con- 
 stantinople, to irritate the Grand Seignior into 
 breaking the truce, and surrounding Hungary with 
 hostile troops." 
 
 *' Heaven protect us ! another Turkish war," 
 groaned the baroness ; '* and the Turks are already 
 in arms, you say ?" 
 
 **That may be considered certain, especially in 
 the frontier provinces." 
 
 " So then all misfortunes combine in our devoted 
 country ; pestilence, war, devastation and blood- 
 shed '." cried the baroness, wringing her hands. 
 
72 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 "" Nay, nay, worshipful lady ; the war has not 
 yet commenced, and we shall trust in God. It is 
 earnestly to be deplored, however, that his majesty 
 our king should not be better surrounded." 
 
 '' How so ?" said the baroness: *^ what do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 ** There are people about the emperor, men of 
 whom it is inconceivable how they arrived at the 
 situations which they now hold. There is, for ex- 
 ample, the young Count Zriny." 
 
 '' Zriny ? the name is not quite unknown to me V 
 
 *' It is the same of wliom, in all probability, you 
 have heard from Mademoiselle Catherine." 
 
 This was uttered with a side glance at Catherine, 
 which the baroness never noticed, but went on 
 with her discourse. 
 
 **Ay, ay, I know, my brother mentioned him 
 sometimes in his letters. But what has he to do 
 with the emperor ?" 
 
 ''What! — as report says, he is the emperor's 
 favourite, and the brother in law of Tokely, and a 
 son of the man, who, as a rebel, fell by the hand of 
 the executioner at Neustadt. Do you now under- 
 stand the matter, lady? This man is ambitious, 
 even a crown does not appear too high for his as- 
 pirings, and he possesses the emperor's confidence. 
 He has a number of secret connections ; he is now 
 at Vienna, now at Paris, now at Munich ; corres- 
 ponds with Turkish Agas; in short, he has his hands 
 every where in the game, and I am much deceived, 
 if he has not serious plots of treason in agitation !" 
 
 "And how do you know all this, reverend sir?" 
 said Catherine, who now for the first time mingled 
 in the conversation. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 73 
 
 ** Much, to tell the truth, I have learned from 
 very good sources, which frankly, / cannot name. 
 Besides, when one has lived a certain time in the 
 world, experience teaches us to judge of what 
 will happen, by what has already happened/' 
 
 ** That would, in the present instance, be rather 
 an unamiable judgment,'' said Catherine, " to de- 
 cide thus against a man whom you have never seen, 
 and who has never injured you/' 
 
 *^ And wherefore?" said the chaplain; *^ Oh ! 
 my good lady, experience and knowledge of man- 
 kind are no such deceitful guides as you here sup- 
 pose ; and that I do not know him personally, sig- 
 nifies little. How many a man, and woman too, 
 have known him, and been wretchedly deceived." 
 
 Catherine was silent: — these last words had 
 wounded her deeply. However, she could by no 
 means join in father Isidores views, nor accuse a 
 man of treason, whom, in spite of all that had hap- 
 pened, still stood very high in her estimation. 
 
 *' As I know him not," continued the priest, 
 " my judgment of him is the less likely to be pre- 
 judiced ; I am neither dazzled by his exterior, nor 
 blinded by his flattery. For both these he is famed, 
 and is said to have in his manners acquired such 
 power, that the emperor blindly trusts to him. 
 Besides, it is not for nothing that he has been at 
 the court of Louis XIV. It is probable, nay, al- 
 most certain, that the plans he now wishes to 
 carry into effect along with his brother in Hungary, 
 have been framed in Paris. It is known what are 
 the sentiments of the French court, and that it 
 privately supplies the malcontents with men and 
 money." 
 
74 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 
 
 ^* And Zriny condescends to be an agent in this 
 traffic ?" said the baroness. 
 
 ^* Of course, it is for his own advantage, and that 
 of his family : probably we shall soon hear more, 
 unless, by some fortunate chance, the emperor's 
 eyes are opened, and the traitor receives his me- 
 rited punishment," 
 
 At these words, Catherine left the room. This 
 dialogue had too painfully awakened her old re- 
 membrances, and all the sufferings which Zriny 
 had brought on her, awoke vividly to her mind. 
 Her mother took no notice of this, but the monk 
 shook his head, in silence. At last, he broke off the 
 conversation, and they betook themselves to the 
 card- table, playing very zealously at piquet, until 
 the hour struck for supper, at which time Cathe- 
 rine again appeared. Her eyes showed that, during 
 her absence, she had wept. Their meal was taken 
 in almost utter silence, and each retired directly 
 to their several apartments. 
 
 Catherine, however, did not go to bed ; she 
 stood long at the window, looking down into the 
 ^ep precipitous ravine, on the rocks and fir-tree 
 woods. The whole adventures of her past life, re- 
 called by the monk's conversation, came vividly to 
 her mind. She could not help acknowledging to 
 herself, that, in many respects, he had judged of 
 Zriny rightly. She felt painfully how unfortunate 
 to herself and her sister had been the consequence of 
 an acquaintance with him ; especially what injus- 
 tice she had, on this man's account, done to her 
 faithful lover, Sandor Szlatinski. 
 
 His last visit, — the love which could not be 
 misunderstood, and was expressed even by his vio- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 75 
 
 lence ; the gloomy aspect with which he had long 
 surveyed her, and the gloomy resolve, too, with 
 which he had quitted her ; all came to her remem- 
 brance. Now a year had passed away since she saw 
 him last, and it was more than likely that she 
 would never again see him. '' Never, never more !" 
 cried she, and wringing her hands, held them up to 
 the mournful midnight sky. ** Alas V added she ; 
 " what would I not give for an opportunity to see 
 him once more ; how deeply I now feel the injus- 
 tice I have done to him, and how grateful I feel for 
 his affection." At that moment, it seemed to her 
 as if she heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming up 
 the valley. She listened ; there could be no mis- 
 take, and there were two horses. Now they came 
 nearer ; now came up the steep road that led to 
 the castle. Who could it be, that at so late an 
 hour, visited their lonely habitation ? Now the 
 riders had come up, and galloped across the 
 bridge ; to all appearance a master and servant. 
 In spite of the mantles which they wore, and 
 the darkness, she thought she distinguished the 
 Hungarian uniform, and, — good heavens ! also the 
 figure and voice of Sandor Szlatinski. The servant 
 dismounted, and knocked at the gate ; the porter 
 opened the small narrow door, went out, and soon 
 recognized the friend of the family. Catherine 
 could no longer have any doubt it was Sandor, and 
 much, at the first moment, as she was delighted 
 with the idea of seeing him again, she could not 
 help reflecting, with a heavy heart, that after what 
 had passed betwixt them, his appearance at Clamm 
 Castle could not betoken any good. Meanwhile 
 the large gate was opened. The horses' hoofs 
 
76 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 sounded under the high archway, and soon after 
 upon the causeway of the court. Catherine was 
 uncertain whether she ought to leave her chamber, 
 and meet the ci-devant lover, who had parted from 
 her in anger. 
 
 Willingly, oh ! how willingly, would she have 
 done so, and said to him how highly she respected 
 his character, how much she regretted having of- 
 fended him, and that in the convent her prayer and 
 penance would be offered up in his behalf. But 
 she did not venture this, for she was afraid of offend- 
 ing him still more, and she w^ould rather refuse 
 herself gratification, than cause pain to the friend 
 who, for her sake, had ali-eady suffered so much. 
 However, she could not deny herself the solace of 
 going into the next room, where the windows di- 
 rectly looked over the court. Here lights were 
 brought out, and servants were in attendance, who, 
 with respectful affection, greeted the well known 
 lover of their lady. Szlatinski dismounted, kindly 
 returned their salutations, and followed old Bal- 
 thazar, who, with a lamp, led him up the narrow 
 winding stairs into his old accustomed apartment. 
 The windows of this room looked into the court, 
 and were directly opposite to those at which Cathe- 
 rine, concealed by the darkness, could observe 
 every movement of the newly arrived guest. She 
 saw him pace to and fro in his apartment, as if in 
 great agitation ; stopping now and then, as if lost 
 in thought ; then walk rapidly as before. At last 
 Balthazar came, bringing him wine and refresh- 
 ments, of which she observed that he took very little, 
 and Balthazar soon retired. No sooner was Sandor 
 left alone than he renewed his walk. Some tor- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 77 
 
 menting thought seemed to prey on him ; and she 
 would have given much if she had been able to 
 guess whether he thought of her : and on what 
 account he had come at so late an hour, and in 
 such rough weather. After a while she saw him 
 kneel before the crucifix, clasp his hands, and say 
 his evening prayers. Quickly also she threw her- 
 self down, lifted up her arms in prayer to the uni- 
 versal Father, and a long unknown quiet was dif- 
 fused over her heart, at the idea that her own prayers, 
 and those of the faithful companion of her youth, 
 would at that moment rise as a joint offering to 
 Heaven. Now Sandor arose, making the sign of 
 the cross on his breast and forehead. His servant 
 came in to assist him in undressing. Catherine 
 threw him an invisible kiss, and then blushing and 
 half looking round, lest any one had seen her, re- 
 tired. A soft slumber, such as she had long wish- 
 ed for in vain, stole over her senses, and pleasant 
 images of the past and the future played on her 
 fancy. 
 
:#^ 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 On the following day, Sandor was immediately 
 introduced to his aunt, who had been informed of 
 his arrival. The greeting was cordial and affec- 
 tionate on both sides, and Sandor explained the 
 object of his visit. Chance had led him unexpect- 
 edly to an explanation of Ludmilla's abduction, 
 and her present situation. As soon as his business 
 at the court of Warsaw permitted, he had hasten- 
 ed to his uncle, Baron Ferronay, in order to an- 
 nounce the news to him, and to ask his advice, which 
 was, to consult with Baroness VolkersdorfF before 
 any farther steps were taken. 
 
 Szlatinski now related that at the court of 
 Sobieski, in the train of the French ambassador, he 
 had met with a certain Count Bethune, an officer 
 also of that nation, who appeared to have many 
 acquaintances in Hungary. He had lived some- 
 time alternately with Tokely in Muncats, and with 
 the Bassa of Ofen, who, it was said, was a rene- 
 gade, and native of Switzerland. In all proba- 
 bility this Count Bethune was a secret emissary of 
 the French court, who, with a view of inciting 
 Sobieski against Austria, and winning him over to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 79 
 
 the views of Tokely, now resided in Warsaw. He 
 was a talented man, who showed in his conversa- 
 tion much wit and vivacity, and conversed on the 
 many countries and lands which he had visited, in 
 a manner both instructive and amusing. 
 
 Once the conversation happened to turn on tra- 
 velling adventures ; and the Frenchman related, 
 that a long while ago, he had arrived at an inn on 
 the road to Ofen, which was a wretched place, and 
 scarcely afforded even a tolerable shelter. Not 
 long after him, there arrived two young Turks on 
 horseback ; of whom, the eldest was about twenty, 
 the younger not more than eighteen years old ; 
 and they were attended by some Tartars also on 
 horseback. Count Bethune stood at the window, 
 and was struck by the care with which the elder 
 brother lifted the younger from his horse, and led 
 him into the house. Soon after, he overheard in 
 the next room, a dialogue, carried on very ear- 
 nestly, but in a low tone, and supposing it came 
 from the young Turks, was not disposed to take 
 any farther notice. Soon afterwards it seemed to 
 him that the language in which they spoke, did not 
 sound like Turkish ; nay, it seemed as if here and 
 there he heard French words. His curiosity awoke, 
 and he approached the door which separated the 
 rooms. It was so badly constructed that he easily 
 found in it a rent, through which he could see into 
 the adjoining room, ** Think, gentlemen, of my 
 astonishment," continued the count, ** when I saw 
 the younger Turk without turban or caftan, having 
 laid both aside on account of the heat, sitting 
 right opposite to me. — 1 could have betted all I 
 am worth in the world, that instead of a Mussul- 
 
80 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 man, I beheld a most beautiful girl ! with regular 
 features, and an aspect of deeply interesting melan- 
 choly ; never shall I forget the expression with 
 which she lifted up her large dark eyes to her 
 companion, who sat in such a position that I could 
 not rightly see him. He spoke softly, but with so 
 much fervour, that I distinctly ascertained his 
 words to be French, although I could not make 
 out the drift of his discourse. When he ended, the 
 beautiful girl raised her plaintive voice, and if I 
 had any doubts left about her sex, these were now 
 completely removed. She seemed endeavouring to 
 sooth him, and as if defending herself against 
 jealous suspicions. The youth answered rather 
 angrily, and she looked at him with an expression 
 which only the most perfect innocence and innate 
 consciousness of virtue, could assume for a mo- 
 ment. Now she rose up, and with her hands 
 clasped, moved towards him. I wished to follow 
 her with my eye, and as I leaned against the door, 
 the crazy old fabric gave a great crack. The terri- 
 fied couple started away from each other, — looked 
 round with horror and suspicion, and spoke no 
 more. Soon afterwards I heard their door open. 
 I feared that this interesting neighbour had already 
 taken flight. It was, however, only the elder 
 brother, who, upon my opening my door, - shot 
 rapidly past, and at the same time cast on me a 
 look of great rage. Now I saw him completely. 
 He was also a very handsome youth, of a noble 
 presence ; but that he also was no Mussulman, 
 became obvious to me from the first moment. Not 
 long afterwards the Tartars came up : the whole 
 chamber adjoining mine, with the door-locks, was 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 81 
 
 examined ; the lock bolted, and the door covered 
 with cloth, which effectually prevented any farther 
 espionage on my part. All this was very provok- 
 ing, but they could not, in like manner, deprive me 
 of the power of listening. 
 
 *' After some time, I heard a whispering, which at 
 the beginning was violent, but became always softer 
 and milder ; often also was it broken by female 
 tears and sighs ; also by kisses, which I heard un- 
 equivocally. The jealous youth would doubtless 
 have gladly excluded me from all possibility of 
 making such remarks, if it had been in his power ; 
 but the miserable ale-house afforded him no other 
 apartment, and he was under the necessity of having 
 his charge close to me. 
 
 '* When night approached, the young man left the 
 apartment, and a Tartar was placed as a guard 
 before the door ; a delicacy of proceeding, which, 
 while it threw a still more mysterious interest over 
 the affair, could not but extort my praise. In the 
 morning I arose early, determined to see the con- 
 cealed fair one as she quitted the spot ; and being 
 joined by her companions, her door opened ; she 
 issued forth, when seizing the moment, I too stept 
 forth, and they were compelled to pass close by 
 me. The young man, however, placed himself 
 so as to conceal his lovely charge as much as pos- 
 sible from my view ; but I caught enough of his 
 features, to recognize them easily at any distance 
 of time. Now it so happened, that about six 
 months subsequently, 1 was staying with Count 
 Tokely at Munkats. Think of my surprise, when, 
 in the brother of his countess, the youthful Zriny, 
 I at once recognized the handsome Turk. I per- 
 
 G 
 
82 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ceived also, from a movement of surprise, and the 
 angry look with which he met me, that he was 
 equally conscious of having seen me before. 
 
 " I was now,'^ continued my informant, *' more 
 eager than ever to learn who the fair girl was, and 
 where she was then residing. But spite of my 
 earnest inquiries, I could elicit nothing at Munkats, 
 beyond the belief, that this was far from being the 
 young count's first adventure ; and that he had, 
 very recently, carried off a nun from her convent 
 at Elsatz, in Hungary. On his own part, he re- 
 ceived every advance I made towards a nearer 
 acquaintance, with a haughty repulsion I could ill 
 brook. I threw out broader hints of what I knew ; 
 he fired up, — swords were drawn ; he was wounded, 
 and prudence counselled me to withdraw promptly 
 from a place where the bold Tokely's arm could 
 reach farther than mere respect for the emperor." 
 
 Szlatinski ceased ; and the bereaved mother, in- 
 stead of deriving consolation from any part of his. 
 narrative, only gave vent to renewed lamentations. 
 It was in vain he sought to inspire her with hope ; 
 and when he alluded to the happiness she still en- 
 joyed in a daughter like Catherine, she repeated 
 her former declaration, that it had been determined 
 upon between father Isidor and herself, as Ludmilla 
 had broken her vows to Heaven, her lovely sister 
 should be substituted in her place. ''Do not at- 
 tempt," she added, *' to shake our determination ; 
 for, so far from changing it, I can assure you, 
 dearest nephew, that nothing would rejoice us so 
 much as to hear, that you had endowed our good 
 church and convents with your fortune; and had 
 yourself become " 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 83 
 
 *' I become a priest !'* exclaimed Sandor, unable 
 to restrain his indignation at the idea — ** I be guilty 
 of deserting the world, to hide myself in cowl and 
 hood ! Do you think me — " 
 
 ** Oh, stop !" cried the alarmed devotee ; " utter 
 no expression of impiety in my ears. You are 
 infected with heresy ; you have imbibed the poison 
 of that wicked sect — go, go away! and leave 
 poor Catherine to the care of father Isidor and 
 me." 
 
 ** Yes, I will go," was the reply ; ** for I per- 
 ceive that it would be fruitless to attempt to re- 
 move prejudices so deeply seated ; and if Catherine 
 is to be the victim, you shall never behold me 
 more." 
 
 A long and earnest conversation now ensued ; 
 till, finding every appeal of justice and reason alike 
 in vain, he took a cool, but dutiful leave of the 
 superstitious lady, and proceeded eagerly in quest 
 of his fair cousin. He found her in her flower 
 garden, which commanded a view of the road by 
 which he had to pass ; a deep blush suffused her 
 countenance as they met ; both stood for some 
 moments without uttering a word ; till at length, 
 raising her timid eyes to his, and then pointing to 
 the two horses which stood ready saddled at the 
 hall-door, — she burst into tears. She would have 
 hastened to the castle ; but the now delighted 
 lover, gently drawing her into one of her own sweet, 
 secluded bowers, threw himself at her feet, and 
 with protestations of the most ardent attachment, 
 sought to reassure, and convince her of his unalter- 
 able fidelity and truth. 
 
 g2 
 
84 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ** You do not hate me, then/' sobbed out the 
 agitated girl, as she leaned her head upon his 
 shoulder, and mingled her tears with his ; — *' you do 
 not hate me, as I have been told !" she gasped out, 
 as she felt herself clasped closely, and more closely 
 to his bosom. It was a moment of the most deli- 
 cious sympathy and joy ; every cloud of suspicion 
 vanished from the heaven of their love ; and its 
 exstacy was the more intense, from its contrast with 
 the anxiety and wretchedness they had before suf- 
 fered. Scarcely could either believe the reality of 
 each other*s presence ; and for some time they stood 
 entranced with the conscious bliss of unbroken 
 faith, and yet unsevered love. Sweet smiles, and 
 heart-sweet sighs, soon succeeded to sobs and tears ; 
 they read in each other's joy-lit features, the fullest 
 assurances of their future truth, and forgot in the 
 enchantment of the moment, that there existed such 
 authorities as monks, or mothers, capable of hurling 
 them from the summit of all their hopes and joys. 
 The idea first flashed across the young soldier's 
 mind ; his arms fell from their clasp ; his eyes 
 and brow became again clouded, and he no longer 
 hung in exstacy upon every word and look. ** What 
 madness is this !" he cried; *' why indulge this 
 wild delicious dream ! Sentence has been pro- 
 nounced upon our love ; and I am but come to bid 
 you an eternal farewell.'' He turned away ; her 
 tears now fell faster, and more bitterly. 
 
 '' Yes ! I know it, I know it all," she exclaimed, 
 as she wrung her hands; '' they will have it so ; 
 but may God for ever bless, and make you happy, 
 dearest cousin, — and when shrouded from the world, 
 I shall still devote my life to one object, and weary 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 85 
 
 Heaven with prayers for my only beloved and lost f 
 but tears and sobs again choked her voice. 
 
 The young soldier's feelings were almost equally 
 overpowered; he forgot the more cold and resolute 
 conduct he had prescribed for himself, and with 
 passionate exclamations, seizing the weeping girl 
 in his arms, he overwhelmed her with caresses, and 
 imprinted burning kisses upon her lips : *' No, no !" 
 he cried, *' we will not submit ; no power on earth 
 shall separate us !'* And renewing his more im- 
 petuous caresses, he pressed her with increasing 
 ardour, till she wholly lost the power of either ap- 
 pealing to him, or resisting his passion. As little had 
 she dreamed of its existence in so intense a degree; 
 sensations wholly new and inexplicable deprived 
 her of utterance, and it was not till taking alarm 
 at his ungoverned fervour, she released herself by 
 a sudden and last effort from his embrace. 
 
 ** What is this !" she exclaimed ; *' what mad- 
 ness possesses you ! Indeed you terrify me I I dare 
 not become yours — would you drive me to a clois- 
 ter — wild and desperate, as you are, I dare not 
 trust you ?" 
 
 '* A cloister!'' repeated Sandor, recoiling as he 
 spoke ! ^* there it is ; — that drives me to madness. 
 I see too plainly that you even wish to obey your 
 mother." 
 
 ** Oh heavens !" replied the artless girl ; " how 
 little you know my heart, dear Sandor. Did you 
 know the ceaseless tears I shed on your account, 
 you would not do me this injustice !" 
 
 <'What; you do not really wish it!" replied 
 Szlatinski, his eye lightening up, — ** then are you, 
 indeed, the noble girl I ever thought you." 
 
86 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 *^ No, believe me/' continued Catherine, " I re- 
 sisted the intentions of father Isidor and my 
 mother from the first. The monk insisted that 
 both my own and my mother's eternal welfare de- 
 pended upon our decision, for that God would hold 
 us responsible for the impious desertion of Lud- 
 milla's vows. What could I do? — how resist the 
 repeated appeals made to my best feelings ? Alas ! 
 I thought it my duty to submit ; but am I happy ? 
 do I not turn with dread from the bare idea ?" 
 
 ** My sweet cousin ! my angel — love !" replied 
 the soldier. ** I own my fault. I have indeed been 
 unjust — cruel — but all is not yet lost; only speak 
 — will you be mine ?" 
 
 An expression of joy lighted up her features 
 for a moment, and as quickly vanished. *'0h, dear 
 Sandor ! you know my heart — but it is not impos- 
 sible ; can we, dare we even talk ?" 
 
 '' At this time, I admit, we cannot; but strange 
 events are at band, — only let us pledge our mu- 
 tual vows, and trust to the future ! Tell me the 
 period fixed upon for your professing." 
 
 " That I know not," was Catherine's reply ; 
 *^ but next spring I am to take the veil — at least I 
 enter the cloister, and begin my noviciate ; but a,, 
 year will elapse ere " 
 
 '' Then !" exclaimed Sandor, in a tone of tri- 
 umph, "there is hope for us both. What changes 
 may not the next half year produce ! Look only 
 on the past ; even misfortune, however trying or 
 terrible, may boldly calculate upon the future, and 
 why, dearest, need we to despair ? We have a 
 friend in your uncle Ferronay ; there are few such 
 men ; and I have not a doubt of our ultimate hap- 
 
THE SIEGE OP VIENNA. 87 
 
 piness, if you will pledge me, heart and hand, in 
 sweet and solemn words, that you will, when time 
 favours us, become my wife/* 
 
 '* Oh, yes ! I do — I will — with my whole heart — 
 and hand — and lips !" was the confused, half- 
 breathless reply ; as the happy lover seized the 
 proffered hand, and sealed the compact with a 
 holy kiss. 
 
 ** I consider that you are now my own ; wedded 
 in heart and mind — before the altar of pure faith, 
 — in the sight of Heaven, and that you cannot — 
 dare not break your vows, and accept the veil." 
 
 '*And I would wish, dear Sandor, that it may 
 not ever be brought to the test ; and indeed 
 you make me very happy to feel that actual com- 
 pulsion alone can disunite our loves." 
 
 ^' But not a word, sweet cousin, of our wedded 
 hearts, and heaven-pledged vows, either to the 
 stern chaplain or your poor mother," continued 
 the young soldier, as he folded her gently in his 
 arms — gazed upon her features with an expression 
 of mingled pride and sorrow, — and then pressing 
 his lips to hers in one long last adieu, tore himself 
 from her arms, and rushed from the spot. As 
 eagerly did he mount his charger, ready at the 
 door; and setting off at full speed, as if doubting 
 his firmness, scarcely ventured to gaze back upon 
 the beloved object he had left, who stood with 
 glistening eye and folded hands following him with 
 ■prayers and blessings so long as she could catch a 
 glimpse of his person. 
 
 From this time forth, there was a marked change 
 in Catherine's character and feelings; — there was 
 less vivacity — less of the mere girl, but more of the 
 
88 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 thoughtfulness, the dignity and grace of woman. 
 She exhibited also a prudence, and caution in all her 
 words and actions, and a truer estimate of the real 
 worth of things, than she had before evinced ; her 
 mind seemed to keep pace with the development of 
 her person ; she examined the circumstances by 
 which she was surrounded; extended her intellectual 
 vision through the whole circle of her duties, and 
 felt at once her naturally excellent understanding 
 strengthened, and her spirits invigorated by sponta- 
 neous cultivation of the talents and accomplishments 
 which she possessed. It was then she perceived the 
 truth of her lover's remark, that there was nothing 
 in her situation to lead them to despair ; that her 
 destiny was not necessarily decided, and that by^^ 
 the double advantage of gaining time and the exer- 
 tion of skill, and courage, a wholly new and more 
 delightful aspect, might be given to the future. 
 Though her affection for her cousin, Sandor, was 
 not of a passionate or romantic character, it was 
 deeply rooted in early habits and associations ; and 
 the recent energy and impetuosity of passion, of 
 which she had not believed him capable, while it 
 agitated every fibre of her sensitive frame, had 
 rendered him inexpressibly dear to her. She felt 
 bound to him by a thousand new and delicious 
 ties; by feelings of which she had never even 
 dreamed ; and with which those of mere imagina- 
 tion, excited for a moment by Count Zriny, could 
 bear no sort of comparison. It was now for the first 
 time she felt that she was really in love; it charmed 
 while it elevated all her thoughts ; it threw fresh 
 lustre over her charms, and that beauty of mingled 
 mind and form, which may be seen to animate those 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 89 
 
 who truly love in the most mixed society, but 
 which is in itself indescribable. 
 
 With features more frank and free, but closer 
 thoughts and bolder spirit, Catherine rejoined her 
 mother, and even met the dark penetrating glance 
 of father Isidor, with more equanimity than usual. 
 The prevailing topic was introduced ; not a few 
 cutting remarks were made, upon the presumed 
 principles and sentiments of their recent guest, 
 which the ardent girl repelled with more than her 
 usual vivacity and to the air of indifference, with 
 which she listened to the strictures upon herself, 
 was indebted for much briefer discipline than she 
 would have received, had she indulged the father 
 confessor with the sight of beauty in tears of dis- 
 tress. The superstitious old lady was not a little 
 puzzled, and far from being aware of the recent 
 interview, and the new light which had broken upon 
 her daughter's mind and prospects, she naturally 
 attributed the change to a want of fervour in the 
 sacred career to which she had been called. A 
 singular scene ensued, from which Catherine retired 
 more than half triumphant, and more decided in 
 her hostility to a cloistered life; leaving her spi- 
 ritual advisers not a little mortified and surprised, 
 at her strange behaviour. 
 
 Weeks and months elapsed, but no further ac- 
 counts of the fair deserter reached her anxious and 
 perplexed friends. The winds of autumn had 
 begun to strip vale and forest of their summer 
 beauty ; storm and flood came gathering from the 
 mountain-sides, and thicker mists gradually spread 
 over the land. The first snow-tufts became visible 
 upon the peaks of the neighbouring cliffs ; and the 
 
90 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Still, unbroken life, of the ill-assorted dwellers of 
 Clamm Castle, grew every day more dull and uni- 
 form, from the aspect of the world without. Fewer, 
 and fewer, were the parties of travellers passing 
 over the adjacent mountains, or exploring the 
 scenery of the country around ; the fears of the 
 lady of the castle, assumed a deeper superstitious 
 hue ; the chaplain had recourse to his uniformly 
 Job-like, and dubious style of consolation, and his 
 most inspiring pictures of a better world still par- 
 took, spite of his words and looks, far more of the 
 dark and stern, than the consoling, as he accom- 
 panied the daughter to the couch of her feeble, but 
 now happy parent. 
 
 What would she not now have given, if her 
 cousin Sandor, had been present at this moment, 
 to whom she might have disclosed her painful situ- 
 ation, and asked counsel from his prudence ! But 
 he was at a distance, and no hope appeared of 
 soon seeing the friend, who was becoming from re- 
 flection and attachment, every day dearer to her. 
 She had therefore no resource, but to decide for 
 herself. She considered, and reconsidered, and 
 embraced at last the resolution, not immediately to 
 mention all that she had recently heard of the affair 
 of her sister, to her mother ; because in this case, 
 she must certainly show the letter, and so all would 
 be revealed to father Isidor, for whose perusal a 
 secret voice told her, many parts were not adapted. 
 She therefore wrote to her uncle Ferronay, with 
 exact copies of Ludmilla's letters, and begged him, 
 after having disclosed all the circumstances to him, 
 to write to her mother, informing her of as much 
 as he deemed necessary or useful, and as if the in- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIETJNA. 91 
 
 telligence had first reached him, in an authentic 
 shape. In this manner, Catherine thought she 
 should best consult her mother's feelings, to whom 
 every intelligence respecting her lost child must 
 appear as a messenger from heaven, as well as the 
 dictates of prudence, and a concern for her sister's 
 circumstances, which seemed to Catherine to be in 
 a very complicated state. 
 
 The uncle's answer arrived very speedily. He 
 praised Catherine's prudent conduct, and inclosed 
 a letter for her mother, containing what was ne- 
 cessary for her to know. This she immediately 
 took to her mother, concluding what she had so 
 prudently begun, and quickly departed, avoiding 
 tliereby the painful part, which the communication 
 of the contents of the letter would have compelled 
 her to act. Immediately after, she heard father 
 Isidor called, the meaning of which she divined, 
 and congratulated herself on her not having com- 
 municated the letter to him. At length, she also 
 was called, and made acquainted, in few words, 
 with what it was deemed fit to communicate to her 
 of the whole, namely, that her sister had been found 
 at last, and was still alive, although far distant, in 
 Paris, and that she was married to a Hungarian 
 nobleman of great distinction, with whom she had 
 formerly become acquainted at Presburg, a cham- 
 berlain to the emperor, and a great favourite at 
 court, — Count Zriny, who had carried her away; 
 but that this marriage, from secret and urgent 
 family considerations, must be kept secret ; on 
 which point, it was impressed on Catherine, to 
 observe the utmost silence. The good lady herself 
 knew not much more of the story ; for Ferronay, 
 
92 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 had selected, and represented the whole in such a 
 skilful and prudent manner, that it wore a very 
 trust-worthy appearance in the eyes of one so 
 little able as his sister to subject matters to a 
 stricter scrutiny. On her, however, the news made 
 a decidedly good impression. The history of the 
 Prodigal Son was now repeated, and the long-grieved 
 mother forgot the undutiful conduct of the recovered 
 child, and dwelt only on the thought that she who 
 had been dead, now lived again. The mind, that had 
 been so long overwhelmed, regained its elasticity 
 under so delightful a feeling, and even father Isi- 
 dores powerful warnings, that the recovery of the 
 disobedient should excite no such feelings ; that 
 divine justice would never cease to punish the 
 apostate; and he who had compelled the heavenly 
 bridegroom to break her vows of truth, sooner 
 or later, would have to make heavy atonement for 
 his crime; yea, that such extravagant joy at the 
 recovery, was a species of participation in the 
 guilt, and consequently sinful. All this, at least, 
 during the first few days, made no impression on 
 the happy mother's heart. By degrees, however, 
 when the first excess of joy was subdued, and a 
 calmer consideration of circumstances took place, 
 light clouds began to dim the horizon, that had 
 been so suddenly illuminated, and father Isidores 
 views found a more ready hearing. The guilt of 
 the run-away began again to deepen in the eyes of 
 the anguished mother ; the fear of the divine ven- 
 geance, on the account of such a sin, became 
 stronger in her heart from day to day, and so it 
 was immediately determined to offer what repara- 
 tion was in her power for such heavy guilt, and to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 93 
 
 present Leah for Rachel to the angry heavens. At 
 this time also, the connection between her children 
 appeared, by chance, to the prejudiced mind of 
 the mother ; father Isidor very willingly seconded 
 a determination, the origin of which was partly his 
 own ; and Catherine was informed to hold herself 
 ready to set off for Vienna before All Saints* day, 
 and to prepare herself, as soon as possible, to enter 
 on her holy vocation. 
 
 This intelligence was not entirely unexpected by 
 Catherine ; she had seen something like it ap- 
 proaching, for some days, and was no stranger to 
 the thoughts awakened by it. The hope and 
 courage of Sandor were shared by her. She con- 
 sidered an affair not quite hopeless, between the ac- 
 complishment of which and the present moment, 
 there were yet eighteen months to pass, and accord- 
 ingly, this haste was not disagreeable — for it brought 
 her so much earlier in connection with people who 
 were entire strangers to her. She pictured to her- 
 self, however, the grandeur and magnificence of 
 the imperial city, so rich in all that was novel and 
 unknown ; for the inhabitants of the mountains de- 
 picted it to themselves in almost romantic colours, 
 and to the youthful imagination of Catherine, it 
 appeared as a perfect paradise of delight. 
 
 The preparations for the journey were soon made. 
 A young girl, and Margaret, an elderly female of 
 the establishment, were appointed to wait on Cathe- 
 rine during the journey, accompanied by father 
 Isidor, as the guide and protector of the whole; 
 who, as soon as he had committed Catherine to the 
 care of the Lady of Preysing, was to return to 
 Clamm with old Maroraret. 
 
94 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 The day of departure now began to draw near, 
 and the good mother felt more uncomfortable 
 at giving up this her last, and only child. Her 
 hours of solitude often witnessed her bitter tears, 
 which she carefully concealed from Catherine and 
 father Isidor ; even prayer gave her deeply-trou- 
 bled feelings but feeble relief. Catherine, also, 
 became more and more depressed, while the tender 
 affection of her mother, who dared not express her 
 feelings by words, and whose former coldness v/as 
 now changed into an opposite feeling of warmth 
 and attachment — made the thoughts of separa- 
 tion so much the more painful. At such moments 
 her tears fell unconcealed, and to her troubled and 
 desponding fancy, the future then appeared all 
 overcast, and she could not, as at other times, in- 
 dulge the pleasing hopes which Sandor had raised 
 within her : on him, even, she thought with feel- 
 ings of anguish, and often abandoned every hope 
 of again seeing so dear a friend on earth. 
 
 At length, one morning, the old tumble-down 
 coach, after many necessary repairs, stood ready 
 for departure in the court-yard, with the son of the 
 steward seated as postillion, in his best attire; for he 
 was to have the honour of driving his young lady to 
 Neustadt, where a change of horses awaited them. 
 
 The baroness and her daughter had passed the 
 night in weeping, and had in vain courted repose. 
 The first rays of the sun now gilded the summits of 
 the opposite mountains, when Catherine's attend- 
 ant entered her mistress's apartment, who, sum- 
 moning up all her resolution, and dressing herself, 
 went to take leave of her mother. The doubtful 
 light of day scarcely illumined the gloomy corridor ; 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 95 
 
 the cold was severe, and light glimmered in the 
 court- yard about the coach that was now getting 
 ready. The coachman smacked his whip, and Ca- 
 therine shuddered at the sound. She approached 
 the window, and saw the heavy machine which was 
 to convey her away, with its large imperial, still 
 bearing some remains of faded gilding. It was 
 the same window, where, a few weeks before, she 
 had sat with Sandor, where she had wept on his 
 bosom, and where their hearts had understood and 
 become attached to each other for life. The recol- 
 lection overpowered her ; she fell on her knees, 
 and, with her head leaning on the window-shelf, 
 wept profusely. Sabina, her attendant, endea- 
 voured to calm her, which, having done with diffi- 
 culty, she rose up. With her looks still turned 
 towards the court-yard, she saw again the tree, 
 the stair-case, the window of the room which San- 
 dor had occupied, and bidding them adieu, recom- 
 mended her absent friend and their mutual happi- 
 ness to Heaven, and then went to bid a last farewell 
 to her mother. She found her already dressed, 
 and father Isidor with her, prepared for the journey. 
 After many tears and blessings, and well nigh 
 broken-hearted, the baroness tore herself away. 
 Father Isidor, contrary to his custom, was com- 
 pelled to console the afflicted pair, and to exhort 
 them to bear their lot without murmuring, which 
 produced a soothing effect, and Catherine and her 
 companion parted for the carriage, which soon 
 passed through the gate-way and over the draw- 
 bridge, and now slowly descended the steep moun- 
 tain path. 
 
 It was now quite day when the travellers left the 
 
96 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 narrow valley behind them; and when they entered 
 the plain, the clouds were tinged with a golden 
 light, the radiant sun had scattered the mist, and 
 shed a new life over the lovely landscape. Such a 
 spectacle was not without its influence on Catherine, 
 who, with clasped hands, offered up her devotions 
 to the Author of such a magnificent scene, and 
 confidently confided her affairs to his wise keeping. 
 Father Isidor took his breviary, and offered up his 
 devotions in silence, while Margaret and Sabina 
 slept. Catherine enjoyed the beauties of the pic- 
 turesque scene around her, and gazed on the 
 clouds that floated in strange shapes about the 
 mountains, or the tortuous ascent of the smoke, 
 that here issued from the pyramidical chimneys of 
 the iron foundries by the road-side ; and listened to 
 the echo of the streams that impelled the machi- 
 nery, and rebounded, foaming, from the wheels. 
 The sooty figures of the forgemen, as they busily 
 shifted about in the foundry, also amused her. 
 The straightness of the road, however, made the 
 distance appear greater between the successive 
 villages on the route, as they were seen at such a 
 distance ; but father Isidor relieved the ennui of 
 the scene, by interesting observations^on the remark- 
 able objects which they passed. On this evening 
 the travellers reached Neustadt, and the father 
 directed Catherine's attention to the temple gates, 
 the towers, the bastions, the thick half-ruined 
 walls, which formerly rendered the town a place of 
 considerable strength, and whose inhabitants, hav- 
 ing been always distinguished by their inviolable 
 fidelity to their legidmate sovereign, had ac- 
 quired for their city the title of Ever Faithful, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 97 
 
 In former times it had received Frederick the War- 
 like within its walls, and courageously maintained 
 his freedom and person against the might of the 
 emperor, Frederick II., who lay in the neighbouring 
 city of Vienna. At a later period, the father men- 
 tioned how the valiant Baumkircher repelled the 
 attack of the Hungarian troops on the bridge of 
 Vienna, and protected the emperor, and the royal 
 orphan Ladislaus, with his blood and life; and 
 again, at another period, how the great Matthew 
 Corvinus, King of Hungary, bestowed great praise 
 and privileges on the inhabitants of Neustadt, who 
 had valiantly opposed him and his army, and pre- 
 served their fealty for their native prince, and also 
 presented them with a costly goblet, still shown in 
 the town-hall, while the citizens of Vienna, who 
 had received him too readily, and had not evinced 
 the same zeal for their rightful sovereign, were se- 
 verely punished. 
 
98 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Next day, the travellers continued their journey 
 with fresh horses, and Thomas was sent back to 
 Clamm with his cattle, and a thousand good wishes. 
 Here, in the neighbourhood or Neustadt, Catherine 
 still had the pleasure of seeing her native hills in 
 the distance. A high range stretched itself along 
 to the left, while the Schneeberg towered from be- 
 hind, clad in its snowy garment. Seen from its sum- 
 mit, the plains below seem spread out like abound- 
 less map before the eye. But now, as the travellers 
 journeyed on, all this scenery became lost to them, 
 except that to the left was a lower range of hills, 
 amidst which, from time to time, were seen scat- 
 tered villages, old castles, and modern buildings in 
 agreeable variety ; while, straight before them, and 
 stretching away to the north and north-east, ap- 
 peared an unbounded plain, on which were seen 
 scattered single villages, embosomed in trees, like 
 islands in the ocean. As they approached the 
 capital, the townships on either side of the road be- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 99 
 
 came more frequent ; and Father Isidor pointed out 
 to Catherine the names of each, as far as the eye 
 could reach. He showed her, in a corner, between 
 mountains, on whose brow rose proudly more than 
 one ancient castle, — the little town of Baden, re- 
 nowned in the time of the Romans, and since, for 
 its mineral-waters ; the old Modling with its 
 church, built in the time of the Templars, at the 
 entrance of a rocky defile; the ruin of the castle 
 of Babenburg, and further on, the fallen castle of 
 the powerful Lichtenstein ; and to the right, across 
 the plain, the emperor's country-house, Saxen- 
 burg, surrounded by its gloomy meadows. The 
 mountains on the left now began to appear, and 
 the view, towards the north-west, to be shut out. 
 Catherine thought she saw buildings on the two 
 last mountains, and Father Isidor informed her 
 she was not mistaken, and that they were named 
 the Kahle and Leopold mountains, and at the same 
 time the terminations of that vast mountain-chain 
 which stretches from hence through Steyermark, 
 Upper Austria, Salzburgh, Carinthia, to the Tyrol, 
 and Switzerland. *^ That building," the father con- 
 tinued, *' on the last mountain but one, is a con- 
 vent of pious monks of Camaldoli, who observe the 
 strict vow of eternal silence and reflection upon 
 death ; and there, on the very last elevation of the 
 mountain, where stands a small church and a few 
 houses, was situated, in ancient times, the castle of 
 the then Margrave and Duke of Austria, of the 
 house of Babenberg, the most celebrated of whom 
 was the holy Leopold, the founder of the neigh- 
 bouring monastery of Ktorternenburg, a truly pious 
 h2 
 
100 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 prince, and a pattern of unapproachable excellence 
 to all his successors. 
 
 They were now rapidly approaching the capital, 
 and had reached the heights which surround it, 
 and the stone crucifix, which tradition reports to 
 have been erected by the produce of a pious vir- 
 gin's spinning-wheel. All of a sudden, Catherine 
 uttered an exclamation of surprise, the great city 
 having at once burst upon the view ; although its 
 magnitude was then not near so great as it is now. 
 With its environs, and the beautiful villages in the 
 neighbourhood, it seemed to occupy all the valley, 
 which, extending in the shape of a graceful semi- 
 circle, was bordered on one side by the Danube, 
 and on the other, by mountains. The river flowed 
 majestically along, studded with numerous woody 
 islets, united to each other, and to the opposite 
 banks, by bridges. Catherine was surprised at the 
 number of towers and steeples that rose above 
 the city, and particularly admired St. Stephen's 
 church, which, for beauty of structure, and the 
 bold elevation of its spire, excelled all the others, 
 and had not then been shaken by the Turkish ar- 
 tillery, so as to make it lean to one side, as it does 
 at present. The dome was seen to rise above all 
 the other palaces, not excepting that of the em- 
 peror ; a true image, this, of the surpassing excel- 
 lence and elevation of religion above all that is 
 earthly. 
 
 The whole soul of Catherine was in her eyes, 
 which could hardly embrace so many objects, at 
 once so various, and so novel. As they now pro- 
 ceeded slowly up a slight ascent, the minuter part 
 of the great picture became more clearly deve- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 101 
 
 loped. Right before them, as father Isidor re- 
 marked, lay the emperor's country seat. Favorite ; 
 with its fine gardens, ornamented with fountains 
 and immense basins, and situated on the highest 
 point of the surrounding country. No trenches or 
 ramparts then surrounded the suburbs with their 
 vast works, which were raised twenty years later, 
 as a protection against the irruptions of the Ko- 
 rutzen, in the troubles occasioned by Ragotzy, 
 
 Behind the gardens of this country seat, and on- 
 wards to the right, where now a mass of streets and 
 buildings extend in labyrinthine mazes to the river, 
 were, at this time, only a few houses and gardens to 
 be seen, the ground being more taken up with 
 vineyards, that clung to the sunny heights, and 
 were the favourite resort of the emperor in the 
 summer and autumn months. Instead of gardens 
 laid out in the English style, which we now see, 
 adorned with the choicest exotics, and evincing the 
 improved taste of their owners, every comfortable 
 citizen or person in an official situation, had then 
 his vineyard and little box attached to it, em- 
 bowered in trees, where he sought an asylum on 
 the Sundays, during the hours of rest ; and which 
 yielded, in harvest, an excellent vintage, the pro- 
 duce of which was carried to the city for use. Our 
 travellers now passed along the glacis, which were 
 not then adorned with the fine rows of trees which 
 now shade them. They arrived at length at the 
 Carinthian gates, which led them into a narrow and 
 dark street, between two rows of very high houses. 
 The noise of carriages in the streets, the multitude 
 of passers by, the number of brilliant equipages, 
 the shops of every description, — all that she saw and 
 
102 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 heard, rendered Catherine mute with astonishment. 
 Father Isidor made no attempt to break the silence, 
 and if he had, he would scarcely have been heard. 
 At length, the carriage turned up a narrow street to 
 the right, and arrived at a small open place be- 
 tween high walls, and a house, that had before it a 
 strange assemblage of dark-looking stones in the 
 form of a hillock, on which were placed the three 
 crosses of Golgotha, the party-coloured statues of 
 the blessed Virgin and St. John, the gate of a 
 church, and the entrance to a convent, were now 
 seen. 
 
 ** There are the gates of Heaven," said father 
 Isidor, '' and this is the asylum which the mercy 
 of Heaven offers to your inexperienced youth, as a 
 refuge from the threatening tempests of time." 
 
 These words filled Catherine's excited and timid 
 heart with anguish. 
 
 *' Good Heavens !" she exclaimed, terrified : 
 "■ and that building, with the imitation of the Hill 
 of Calvary before it, — is it also a convent V* she 
 inquired. 
 
 '*' No," replied father Isidor ; '^ that is a prison, 
 where criminals condemned to death are kept, from 
 the time sentence is pronounced, till the moment 
 of execution." 
 
 '^ Alas !" she thought within herself, *' that the 
 building, where I am to pass my life in severe cap- 
 tivity, should be so near another, of so horrible a 
 description !" and thus agitated, she burst into tears. 
 At this instant, the carriage stopped before a nar- 
 row and lofty house, with a Gothic roof, grated 
 windows of unequal dimensions, and a small door, 
 which opened into a long, narrow, and gloomy pas- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 103 
 
 sage. This house belonged to the Baroness de 
 Preysing, widow of a colonel in the Austrian service, 
 who was killed in battle. This lady was a native 
 of Spain, of very distinguished family, and be- 
 came acquainted with the baron, when he came 
 to Madrid in the suite of the imperial ambassador, 
 the Count de Kerenhuller, to demand in marriage 
 the Infanta of Spain, for his sovereign the Emperor 
 Leopold. The fair Spaniard renounced her coun- 
 try, her family, and the brilliancy of fashionable 
 life without regret, to unite her fate with that of the 
 young Austrian. For more than thirty years, she 
 accompanied him in his military career, and in his 
 various campaigns. Of several children which 
 they had had, only one daughter remained, who 
 was also married to an Austrian, the General Count 
 Dunerwald, who resided at Vienna, where Madame 
 de Preysing had come to live, to be near her daugh- 
 ter. Being far advanced in years, she never went 
 put, but to church. The Countess Dunerwald, 
 being still young and beautiful, and of a lively and 
 amiable temper, and her husband filling a dis- 
 tinguished post under government, went accord- 
 ingly to court, and mixed in gay society, but visited 
 her mother daily, whose solitude and ennui she 
 relieved, by her accounts of what was passing in 
 the world, and her liveliness. It was with this 
 respectable lady, that Catherine was to reside, until 
 she could enter the convent. Father Isidor de- 
 scended from the carriage, and caused their arrival 
 to be announced. Catherine's heart felt still more 
 oppressed, with the thought, that she was going 
 into the presence of people, with whom she was 
 totally unacquainted, and with whom she was to 
 
104 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 live. She would gladly have made her escape, and 
 gone back to Clamm, but was compelled to follow 
 her conductor, who was now on the stairs. Her 
 apprehensions were already excited, by the mere 
 entrance to this gloomy abode, which was only 
 lighted by a lamp burning before a statue of the 
 Virgin, of the natural size. The winding stair- 
 case, having no admittance to the day-light, but 
 through a single, solitary, narrow window, that 
 looked into a back court, deepened further her 
 melancholy reflections, which carried her back to 
 her own home at the castle, with its vast staircases 
 and galleries, and the magnificent window from 
 which she had seen Sandor arrive ! Sighing deeply, 
 she found herself suddenly at the door of the anti- 
 chamber, where she was received by an old, starched, 
 and grim-looking female, with a head-dress of 
 muslin top-knot, in a brown gown, very worn, and 
 stiff ruffles to the elbow, like winglets : — this was 
 the first femme de chambre to the Baroness de Prey- 
 sing. She conducted her new arrivals along a 
 great passage, set round with large wooden presses. 
 The door of an excellent kitchen was open, and 
 displayed to view a superb assortment of gold and 
 silver-looking dishes ; which, however, resembled 
 those metals only in their shining qualities. Ano- 
 ther door led to the suite of rooms occupied by 
 the baroness. The first had no carpet, and on the 
 white plastered wall was hung round a collection 
 of half-effaced family portraits, in black frames. 
 The second room, was adorned with heavy-looking 
 Flemish tapestry, and furnished with sofas, and high- 
 backed elbow-chairs, covered with embroidery, 
 strangely figured, which had been worked by the 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. l05 
 
 lady herself, in her younger days. In each corner 
 of the room a side-board of China lacker was 
 placed. 
 
 Here the ascent was by a few steps to a large 
 room, lit up by a single Gothic window, in two com- 
 partments, the view from which looked into the 
 court. In a deep niche, a small and highly orna- 
 mental domestic altar, was placed ; and opposite 
 to this, an ancient wash-hand stand of silver, with 
 a bowl-shaped urn. The appearance of the whole 
 was that of a chapel : it was the sleeping apart- 
 ment of the old baroness ; and the air of neatness, 
 comfort, and piety that was about it, would have 
 made a favourable impression on Catherine, if her 
 thoughts had not been otherwise engaged. 
 
 The mistress of the house, who now made her 
 appearance, produced a painful effect at first sight. 
 Her figure was small, and bent with years, but still 
 retaining some marks of elegance, in spite of her 
 years. She wore a long gown of black silk, with 
 a train, a small cap of fine lace, adorned with 
 bright coloured ribbons, and a silk handkerchief 
 about her neck, falling down loosely over her dress. 
 Her naturally elegant and delicate features had 
 become sharpened by age ; her hair, about her 
 temples and forehead, was displayed in small well- 
 arranged curls, and, with her numerous wrinkles, 
 contrasted strikingly with a pair of brilliant black 
 Spanish eyes, the lustre of which, time had not 
 been able to extinguish, and which gave to her 
 countenance a vivacity which distinguished her in 
 all she did ; although not unaccompanied with dig- 
 nity. She addressed Catherine in French, who, 
 not being well versed in that language, was so 
 
106 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 overcome, that instead of replying, she burst into 
 tears. The baroness was astonished, and looked 
 at father Isidor ; but a moment's reflection, and the 
 experience of a long life, soon restored those feel- 
 ings of indulgence, which are so natural for the 
 embarrassment of a young country girl. She ap- 
 proached Catherine, and taking her hand in a 
 friendly manner, addressed her in German, and 
 with the kindness of a mother, endeavoured to soothe 
 her. Father Isidor, also, rallied his young pro- 
 tegee on her weakness ; and she soon felt how un- 
 suitable was her conduct, and drying up her tears, 
 begged to be excused, and that the baroness would 
 have a little patience with her. Her simple and 
 modest manners, the sweet expression of her 
 beautiful countenance, and the sound of her voice, 
 made a favourable impression on the old lady, who 
 soon entered into familiar chat with Catherine, and 
 the father ; and thus brought into closer contact, 
 two hearts formed to love each other. 
 
 During the first few days, many things occurred 
 to surprise and annoy Catherine in her new abode ; 
 she even found the presence of Isidor a relief, 
 amidst the new faces with which she was sur- 
 rounded, and the old people whose serious visages 
 frightened her. All the servants of the house were 
 nearly as old as the lady herself, and had been with 
 her many years, and were all as faithful, devoted, 
 and obliging as possible. The baroness knew so 
 well how to unite kindness and amenity of manners, 
 with dignity, that she inspired, at once, affection 
 and respect ; and the heart of Catherine soon be- 
 gan to expand, under the influence of such genial 
 feelings. At length, the daughter of the house. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 107 
 
 Madame Julia Dunerwald, arrived, after an absence 
 of some days, during which she had accompanied 
 her husband on a hunting excursion. This young 
 and beautiful lady, whose manners and dress be- 
 spoke a mind and character of the best ton, and 
 of exquisite taste, threw herself upon her mo- 
 ther's neck, with marks of such warm affection, 
 and evinced so much sense and sensibility, in the 
 midst of almost infantine gaiety, that Catherine 
 was delighted with her beyond measure ; while her 
 own filial affection, her naturally frank and amiable 
 temper, and the reception she met with, irresistibly 
 attached her to the charming baroness ; and she 
 soon felt herself perfectly at home in this stranger's 
 family. 
 
 The mother and daughter, on their part, studied, 
 also, the character of Catherine, whom they com- 
 pared to a rough diamond, that only requires the 
 artist's hand to bring forth its beauties. In their 
 opinion, she could not fail to be esteemed, admired, 
 and beloved for her many excellent qualities. But, 
 in proportion as her character became known to 
 her friends, they could not fail to perceive, that 
 her wishes were far from being on the side of a 
 conventual life, and that her yielding to it — which, 
 in their opinion, ought to be from sincere convic- 
 tion, and with full and free consent — was only an 
 act of obedience to others, when all hope of escape 
 had been abandoned, and overwhelming necessity 
 compelled her. The baroness, therefore, was re- 
 solved on gaining Catherine's confidence, for the 
 purpose of discovering whether this step was in 
 consequence of father Isidor's persuasions ; or 
 only the result of weak and insufficient feelings of 
 
108 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 her own; — for, in either case, she was resolved to 
 do her utmost to induce her friend to abandon a 
 resolution to which she must inevitably fall a vic- 
 tim. She spoke to her daughter on the subject, 
 who was entirely of her mother's opinion ; and they 
 both agreed to spare no effort to gain Catherine's 
 confidence still more, that she might open her 
 heart to them, without reserve, which was not a 
 matter of difficulty. Her breast harboured no con- 
 cealment, and her tenderness of conscience made 
 her disdain to dissemble, where, indeed, she had no 
 occasion. A degree of timidity, and of prudence, 
 however, still kept her back from making her pro- 
 tectors the confidants of all that had occurred up 
 to the present time, as this would have naturally 
 led her to allude to the history and situation of 
 her sister, on which she wished to preserve a pro- 
 found silence. Julia's account of the mode of life 
 of the great world, its habits, and the pleasures of 
 the court, made a great impression on her; for 
 there was, in all she said, such spirit and vivacity, 
 mingled with a candour that never imagined evil, 
 and rarely indulged even in slight touches of wit and 
 satire, that Catherine was enchanted. Madame 
 Dunerwald possessed the talent of describing every 
 one whom she had seen, with such truth of imita- 
 tion, that on listening to her, one fancied to hear 
 and see them, while she imparted to her descrip- 
 tions a character so dramatic and so droll, as to 
 excite Catherine's risibility, whose heart was no 
 less attracted by a filial veneration for the mother, 
 than were her mind and taste by the delight she 
 experienced in the society of the daughter; and on 
 these accounts, the frequent family parties were a 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 109 
 
 source of the most unmingled pleasure to all. 
 Catherine was all eyes and ears to her friend's ani- 
 mated description of the balls, operas, and society 
 of the court at Vienna, although this court was 
 then much more rigorous in its adherence to eti- 
 quette, and far more solemn than in our times; 
 and she laughed outright at the many pleasant 
 anecdotes which Julia had such an art in telling; 
 who was amused, in her turn, at seeing the interest 
 Catherine took in them. The mother, however, 
 did not approve of this, and hinted to her daughter, 
 that it was scarcely prudent to describe that kind 
 of society, and those amusements to a young person, 
 whose future course of life was so uncertain, and 
 who might, perhaps, be for ever debarred from 
 them. 
 
 Madame de Dunerwald, was of a contrary 
 opinion, and replied to her mother's remark, by 
 saying, " that it was exactly because her fate was 
 as yet undecided, and depended, in some degree, 
 on her own wishes, that it was better she should 
 know something of the world, to which, at the 
 same time, she was not an entire stranger, as her 
 stay with her uncle, De Ferronay, had given her, at 
 least, an idea of it. She showed an aversion, 
 however, to speak of it, and it is likely that the 
 Hungarian manners did not please her, and this 
 may possibly be the cause of her entering on a re- 
 ligious life. She must also see the society of Vi- 
 enna, and may then choose, with some knowledge 
 of the subject, and decide whether she will continue 
 in her intention, or abandon it. I am quite anx- 
 ious to introduce her to some agreeable family. 
 She must keep aloof, I am aware, from all excess 
 
1 10 THE SIECtE of VIENNA. 
 
 in her attachment to fashionable life, and the splen- 
 dour of the court; but it is absolutely necessary 
 that she should mingle in society." 
 
 ^' But," replied the baroness, '* if her aversion 
 for a convent increases, and we should not be able 
 to prevent her entering it, shall we not run the 
 risk of rendering her more unhappy V* 
 
 " That is not likely," replied the daughter : 
 " Catherine wants experience, but she is deficient 
 neither in judgment nor prudence. Her good 
 qualities are, at present, concealed by her timidity. 
 Her mind will expand in society ; her character 
 will acquire more decision, and she will be better 
 able to resist unjust encroachments." 
 
 '* I know well, my dear daughter, that a know- 
 ledge of the human heart generally leads to the 
 knowledge and examination of oneself, and that 
 nothing can be more useful in every situation of life ; 
 we should, therefore, be much to blame in prevent- 
 ing Catherine from acquiring such a knowledge, 
 but we ought to form her for such a scene, in the 
 first place, and warn her of the importance of the 
 course on which she is about to enter." 
 
 *' And so much the more," replied Julia ; ** as I 
 fear she has not escaped the influence of love : 
 notwithstanding her openness, she is not very com- 
 municative on what relates to herself; for I have 
 studied her closely, and I would venture to assert, 
 that she has been in love, and, perhaps, still 
 is so." 
 
 '^ This," replied the mother, *' would be the 
 more to be regretted." 
 
 ** True ; and we should be barbarians," replied 
 Julia, " if, seeing the dangers that threaten her, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. Ill 
 
 we should not employ every means to save her 
 from them." 
 
 **My dear child," remarked the baroness, after 
 musing for a moment; ^* let us not act rashly — 
 v<^hether Catherine has or has not been in love, she 
 is, nevertheless, an amiable and charming woman, 
 who only wants to have a somewhat better opinion 
 of herself, and a more decided carriage — she in- 
 terests me strongly, and I should deeply regret if 
 her happiness were not equal to her worth. I wish, 
 therefore " 
 
 *' Permit me," replied Julia, hastily, ^'to intro- 
 duce her to society, by taking her, for instance, 
 to one of the balls of the carnival." 
 
 '* What are you thinking about? — what would 
 her family say ?-- what would the court and the city 
 say ? — to see me permitting a young lady, intended 
 for a convent, and committed to my guardianship, 
 going to a ball I No, no ; most decidedly not. I 
 have no objections to your introducing her to some 
 respectable, quiet, families, and even to court, on 
 some grand day, to enjoy the sight; but never to a 
 public ball." 
 
 Catherine's entrance now interrupted the con- 
 versation, and she sat down to work at a large 
 piece of tapestry, on which, according to the 
 fashion of the times, many ladies were employed 
 at the same time. A canopy was now in progress, 
 and the subject was the judgment of Solomon, 
 who was represented seated on a throne, loaded 
 with ornaments in the Gothic style, and command- 
 ing the living child, which was in the arms of a 
 ferocious-looking soldier, to be divided between 
 the rival mothers. From the court of Kino; Solo- 
 
112 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 mon, Julia led the conversation to that of the de- 
 ceased empress, to whom her mother had been 
 maid of honour, and expressed her regret at not 
 having known her. 
 
 " An Infanta of Spain ; was she not?" inquired 
 Catherine. 
 
 '* Teresa Marguerita, my excellent mistress," was 
 Madame Preysing's reply. ^* She was an angel, — and 
 so young, even in the seventeenth year of her mar- 
 riage, — and so early lost ! I felt a presentiment on 
 my arrival at Scholtvien, and when her rose- 
 diamond too was lost." 
 
 **0h! mamma, tell Catherine the story ; — hap- 
 pening so near her native castle, it must he doubly 
 interesting to her." 
 
 Madame de Preysing, loved to speak of old times, 
 the anecdotes she had heard, and the scenes she 
 had witnessed at the empress's court. She had 
 been the princess's early companion ; their union 
 took place on the same day, and, in the midst of a 
 luxurious court, the youthful beauty had preserved 
 her reputation unblemished. How sweet, then, to 
 recall those brilliant days with an unruffled heart ! 
 She needed no inviting, and commenced her narra- 
 tive as follows : — *' I was the sole lady of her suite 
 allowed to attend the fair princess further than 
 Roverdo, but being considered, myself, an Austrian, 
 I rode in the same carriage, and we were escorted 
 by a magnificent retinue till we arrived at Scholt- 
 vien, where the princess reposed for a short period, 
 previous to entering the capital. 
 
 ** A sumptuous banquet was prepared; but the 
 princess was too deeply affected to partake of it ; 
 she was on the point of yielding herself to her future 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 113 
 
 destiny, for better or worse. All at once was heard 
 the loud tramp of horse; and a party of cavaliers, 
 magnificently arrayed, drew bit at the post-house 
 where we then were. Soon they were announced 
 as noblemen of the court, deputed to honour the 
 arrival of the royal beauty, and escort her with 
 due honours to the arms of her imperial consort. 
 They petitioned to be admitted, in order to com- 
 pliment her on the occasion ; she was extremely 
 embarrassed, — even taken by surprise; for in the 
 special orders we had received to conduct our route, 
 which were very exact, no mention had been made 
 of any lordly embassy of the kind. But, impelled 
 by some secret feeling, or by mere curiosity, the 
 Infanta resolved to receive the noble deputation, 
 and Prince Dietrichstein was ordered to admit 
 them. Several fine, handsome, young noblemen, 
 of high birth, decorated with their splendid orders, 
 were ushered into our presence ; — the names of 
 each being announced by our chamberlain, as they 
 approached us. They were familiar to us as house- 
 hold names, — being those of the celebrated Count 
 Harrach, Bronner, Falkenstein ; and when the last 
 was pronounced, I observed the princess regard him 
 with a penetrating look; nay, she blushed; and 
 the same emotion was visible in the countenance of 
 the noble stranger. He seemed about five-and- 
 twenty, of middling height, but most captivating 
 figure, and features still more interesting and ex- 
 pressive. He was decidedly handsome, but with 
 rather too great fullness of the under lip, which 
 detracted from the exquisite symmetry, and perhaps 
 the energy, of his countenance. 
 
 ** Sealed in a crimson velvet chair, splendidly 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 decorated, she received the youthful nobles, one by 
 one, and gave them her hand, which they pressed 
 to their lips, as they drew nigh, offering their 
 obeisance in the most engaging manner. 
 
 *^ Count Falkenstein came last, who was more em- 
 barrassed than the others ; and when he took her fair 
 hand — such was his excessive agitation — so extra- 
 ordinary the expression with which his eyes rested 
 on that lovely face, as almost to startle us; but 
 the next moment they were succeeded by an air of 
 the most respectful seriousness. 
 
 *^ To the astonishment of all present, the princess 
 suddenly rose, her face in a perfect glow, and she 
 bent before the noble count, as if she had wished in 
 her turn to kneel in homage to his merit. He took 
 both her hands in his, as if to prevent such a move- 
 ment, with a delicacy charming to us both, but 
 without timidity of any kind, while he again 
 pressed them to his lips with marked tenderness. 
 
 '^ All eyes were bent in wonder on this singular 
 scene, which lastly scarcely a minute ; but what 
 was our joy, when one of the lords whispered us 
 that the count was no other than the Emperor 
 Leopold himself. His passion, brooking no farther 
 delay, had burst through the restraints of royal 
 etiquette : he had hoped to see and observe her in 
 his assumed name ; but his portrait which she had 
 received at Madrid, betrayed him to her at the very 
 moment of his entrance, so striking was the resem- 
 blance between them. Besides, when he took her 
 hand, he pressed it with involuntary emotion, and 
 eyed her with one impassioned glance, which told 
 her throbbing heart, it could be no other than her 
 lord.'' 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 115 
 
 '* Ah," cried Catherine, ** how delightful ! An 
 emperor in disguise, clasping the hands of his 
 lovely bride, who instantly recognises him by his 
 speaking look ! I declare, if it is not exactly as we 
 find it in all the best romances of chivalry ! — But 
 about the diamond rose, you spoke of, my lady V 
 inquired she. 
 
 *' Stop, I have not done," said the garrulous 
 baroness, '* not of a great while yet. Well ! after 
 this pretty interview, the infanta called for all the 
 little bijoux and presents she intended for her royal 
 consort. Among these were several worked by her 
 own fair hands ! Then there was a chapeau-bras, 
 surmounted with the most brilliant, red plumes, 
 and the agraffe was, indeed, a splendid rose-dia- 
 mond, of inestimable value. The emperor was de- 
 lighted with all he saw, as she spread them before 
 him with her own white, small hands ; in parti- 
 cular, his chapeau-bras seemed to tickle his fancy, 
 and he instantly took possession of it, and never 
 after lost sight of it. The other things he or- 
 dered to be packed up, and sent to Vienna ; 
 but on mounting, he displayed his new hat with 
 an air of exultation, and after gazing some 
 time, on its splendidly beautiful rose, he put 
 it on his royal head. Yet, will you believe me? 
 before he got to Neustadt, his chamberlain. Count 
 Czernin, observed that it was actually gone, — not 
 the hat, you know, but the fine, rose-diamond, — 
 lost ! ! " An expression of horror followed this ter- 
 rible announcement, uttered by the speaker, with 
 a singular emphasis and solemnity, which almost 
 made her cry. '* Well ! messengers were des- 
 patched back — back, and on all sides ; every house 
 i2 
 
116 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 and village were ransacked ; passengers and market- 
 people were arrested ; inquiries, — inquisitions, — 
 threats, — punishments, — but, alas ! all with no 
 avail — the rose-diamond was gone, really gone. 
 Ah, but don't cry! for one day — a good while 
 after — a common-looking man, — a peasant, walked 
 into court, and brought the long-lost treasure, — 
 the rose-diamond itself. The loss had given rise 
 to the greatest alarm; for it was reported that some 
 Hungarian malcontents, learning the small atten- 
 dance upon the emperor, had resolved to lay an 
 ambuscade, and possess themselves of his person. 
 It was only the rapidity of the emperor's move- 
 ments, which foiled this horrible attempt ; while 
 the rose-diamond, it was believed, had been found 
 by them, but not returned to its royal owner/' 
 
 *' It was his love, then, which saved him ! " cried 
 Catherine : '* how touching, how delightful ! " 
 Mother and daughter both smiled, as they ex- 
 changed looks. 
 
 *' For me," returned the former, *' I took a dif- 
 ferent view of this serious affair. On the princess's 
 arrival at Neustadt, she learnt the disaster ; and 
 both of us began to indulge the most serious ap- 
 prehensions. The emperor had just lost his fair 
 bride's present, to which he had attached the 
 highest value ; I felt a prognostic, that the sweet 
 donor would not be long in his possession, and my 
 fears were but too fatally verified." 
 
 '*Aye, but mamma, the rose was found," ex- 
 claimed Julia. 
 
 '' Why they said so," she replied ; ^*but many sen- 
 sible people maintain, to this day, that it was not the 
 same ; that the empress mother observing the pro- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 117 
 
 found grief of her son for its loss, had recourse to 
 this innocent stratagem, to set his mind at rest. 
 He was quite restored to good spirits, but in a few 
 years he lost his beloved consort, — mark that !" 
 
 Thus terminated their conversation, in which 
 Catherine took so special an interest. She often 
 reverted to the topic, to anecdotes respecting the 
 court, — a subject quite inexhaustible in the hands 
 of the old maid of honour, and they imparted, at 
 the same time, to Catherine, much juster ideas 
 respecting the world of fashion. Every day in- 
 creased her attachment to her amiable and excel- 
 lent protectresses, who, on their part, cherished a 
 feeling of tender friendship for their young pro- 
 tegee, whose sensible and just remarks interested, 
 while her simplicity amused, them. She had not, 
 however, as yet, ventured to speak to them re- 
 specting her own situation, or of the affairs of her 
 family. It would become necessary, however, to 
 enter on this delicate topic, and on the most pain- 
 ful part of it, namely, Ludmilla. It was now time 
 to reply to her letter, an undertaking which she 
 had not hitherto been able to set about, having 
 delayed, until the painful emotions, she had expe- 
 rienced on its reception, had been somewhat sof- 
 tened by time, so that she might write to her 
 without any angry feeling. As soon as she thought 
 she had attained this state of mind, she com- 
 menced her task. Passing over, in silence, her 
 own intimacy with Zriny, and making no mention 
 of the past, she confined her observations to their 
 mother, some family affairs, and her own journey 
 to Vienna, &c. Her pride prevented her from in- 
 dulging in the slightest complaint or reproach on 
 
118 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 account of the fate to which her sister's flight had 
 condemned her, or on her own ruined hopes. The 
 letter was brief, but sufficiently affectionate to in- 
 duce Ludmilla to wish to keep up the correspond- 
 ence with her family, or, at least, with her sister. 
 
 It was now necessary to dispatch the letter by 
 a sure conveyance, whjch was by no means easy, 
 Ludmilla having given no other address but that 
 of Madame de Villecamp, it seemed that the best 
 means of transmitting it would be through the 
 French ambassador, to whom she must have an 
 introduction through Madame de Dunerwald. 
 How to ask this from that lady, was the subject of 
 much reflection. She well knew that both mo- 
 ther and daughter could not be ignorant of her 
 sister's extraordinary disappearance, and that their 
 silence on the subject only proceeded from feelings 
 of delicacy, and by a studied evasion of the sub- 
 ject. It was to be presumed, that if Catherine 
 confided to her new friend a letter addressed to 
 Madame de Villecamp, at Paris, without any fur- 
 ther information, the secret would be quickly 
 guessed, particularly as Julia had the means of 
 making inquiry about that lady, and would, no 
 doubt, feel offended at being kept in ignorance. 
 Catherine, therefore, decided on communicating 
 to Julia, that Madame de Villecamp was her sister ; 
 begging, at the same time, to have no further 
 questions put to her on the subject, and to be al- 
 lowed to maintain that silence respecting her situa- 
 tion, which Ludmilla, for important family rea- 
 sons, had required of her. 
 
 Julia seemed touched with this mark of Cathe- 
 rine's confidence, and embraced her ; promising. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 119 
 
 not only to take charge of the letter, but to avoid 
 inquiring into the mysterious subject, and to keep 
 the secret already confided to her. The same 
 evening Madame de Dunerwald gave the packet 
 to the French ambassador, whom she met at a 
 grand party, recommending him particularly to 
 transmit it to the address. 
 
 His excellency, with a significant smile, in- 
 quired if she knew Madame de Villecamp. 
 
 *' Not at all,*' replied Julia, — '* the letter was 
 given to me by one who has never had the honour 
 of seeing you, and who would not have dared to 
 address herself directly to your excellency." 
 
 " I am happy, madam, to have an opportunity of 
 rendering you the slightest service, and promise to 
 forward the letter with the greatest care ; but I 
 knew from the first that it could not come from 
 you, nor from any one intimately connected with 
 you." 
 
 ** And why so V enquired Julia ; ** I cannot 
 comprehend." 
 
 " Madam," replied his excellency, '* I knew 
 the elevation of your character, and can appreciate 
 the principles by which you are ever actuated, 
 and which render you at once so estimable and 
 amiable; I can, therefore, assuredly conclude that 
 if you knew Madame de Villecamp, either personally 
 or by reputation, you would have declined all com- 
 munication with her." 
 
 *' 1 have already informed your excellency, that 
 I have not the slightest knowledge of the lady ; 
 but excuse me, if I ask why I neither should, nor 
 would have anything to do with her ?" 
 
 The marquis was a little embarrassed at this, and 
 
120 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 replied hesitatingly, 'Hhat Madame de Villecamp 
 was certainly a very fine, a very accomplished wo- 
 man ; but one of a class not afraid of being above 
 prejudices, or of being judged, perhaps falsely, al- 
 though according to their professed principles." 
 
 '* Is she of doubtful reputation ?" inquired Julia> 
 with more eagerness than she would have liked to 
 have shown, but excited by the interest which she 
 took in Catherine's affairs. His excellency, how- 
 ever, attributed her anxiety to her nice sense of 
 honour, wounded, no doubt, at being supposed to 
 have the least connection with a woman of ques- 
 tionable character. 
 
 ** Not exactly so, madam," he replied : " I only 
 meant to say that the lady's conduct was not regu- 
 lated by the usual forms of society. Although so 
 young, her house is the rendezvous of all the most 
 distinguished wits, and men of talent of the day ; 
 in short, of all who either possess literary fame, 
 or aspire to it." 
 
 '' But I cannot see any harm in that," replied 
 Julia ; ^* I have heard that at Paris, many women 
 of the most estimable and respectable character, 
 open their house to every man of distinguished 
 merit in literature or science ; and that it is this 
 which renders society so delightful, and the in- 
 fluence of our sex on the manners of the age, so 
 powerful, and so beneficial." 
 
 ** Very true, madam," replied his excellency, 
 *' but these patrons of talent are known and 
 esteemed on other grounds; and I had the honour 
 of informing you that Madame de Villecamp was 
 above submitting to the usual forms of society." 
 
 " What does your excellency mean ?" 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 121 
 
 *' The usual meaning attached by the world, 
 when speaking of forms, — those forms which point 
 out our situation in the social scale, our place in 
 society, and the opinion generally entertained re- 
 specting us. Such forms ought to be well defined 
 and clear, and are, in fact, governed by laws well 
 understood and established. It appears that Ma- 
 dame de Villecamp has preferred leaving the public 
 in some doubt as to the form in which she entered 
 society." 
 
 ** How so ?'' inquired Julia. 
 
 *' Nothing certain is known as to who she is, or 
 where she comes from," replied the marquis. 
 
 ** Is she not then the wife or the widow of a 
 Flemish officer ?" enquired Julia. 
 
 *' And a native of Germany," added his excel- 
 lency ; ** as she sometimes briefly says to those who 
 seem anxious to know. But do you not think that 
 a woman, endowed with so much beauty and talent, 
 falling as it were, from the clouds into the heart of 
 Paris, — recommended to some of the first families, 
 and rich enough to set up an establishment of the 
 first class herself, is likely to produce a sufficient 
 effect, to warrant every one to talk about her, and 
 feel an interest in her, at least to desire to know 
 who she is V 
 
 " Certainly," replied Julia ; ** but it is well 
 known who she is, — Madame de Villecamp, a native 
 of Belgium." 
 
 ** Very well ;" replied his excellency, ^' this has 
 been enquired into; curiosity — enmity — if you 
 will — have been at work respecting her. Inquiry 
 has been made in the regiment in which her deceased 
 husband is said to have served, in the province 
 
122 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 where she said he had lived, in the city where 
 she said she was born, &c. &c. ; but all that could 
 hei learned, was in direct opposition to what she 
 had affirmed/' 
 
 ^^This, perhaps, is the effect of chance, or of not 
 having made inquiry at the proper quarter," re- 
 plied Julia. *' L cannot suppose that any one 
 would have dared to question the lady herself on 
 the subject.'' 
 
 *' Such a piece of indiscretion was not necessary : 
 there are matters that required no conjuror to di- 
 vine them, and that lead us to the truth — such, for 
 instance, as the intimacy subsisting between this 
 lady and Count Zriny.'* 
 
 " Count Zriny ! did you say ? Can that be the 
 same with the emperor's chamberlain and favourite, 
 the brother-in-law of Tokely V 
 
 " The very same ; the same youthful adventurer, 
 ever hatching audacious projects, and equally as- 
 piring in his conduct towards the fair sex, as in 
 political affairs." It is whispered, privately, that 
 the pretended Flemish widow has been brought by 
 him to Paris, and that she is in reality a Hungarian 
 lady, with whom he has run off." 
 
 These last words threw an unexpected light on 
 the subject. Julia, therefore, continued to ques- 
 tion the marquis, and was informed by him of all 
 the injurious reports that were circulated at Paris, 
 respecting the sister of her young friend. Some 
 would-be clever people supposed there was a secret 
 marriage ; but the greater part classed Ludmilla 
 with the frailer portion of her sex, and adopted 
 towards her a corresponding line of conduct. 
 
 Julia took special care not to acquaint Catherine 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 123 
 
 with what she had heard ; but her curiosity was too 
 strongly excited, not to induce her to inquire more 
 narrowly into the subject. It was not difficult to 
 obtain from her young friend, devoid, as she was, 
 of all duplicity, information on many points which 
 confirmed her suspicions, without giving Catherine 
 the least reason to imagine that she had betrayed 
 her sister's secret. Julia was sufficiently skilful to 
 draw correct conclusions from an inadvertent ex- 
 pression, or a misplaced attempt at concealment. 
 However, Catherine saw nothing of all this ; and 
 Julia simply urged on her to observe the most pro- 
 found silence respecting Madame de Villecamp — 
 not to speak of her before any one — and if her name 
 should ever be mentioned in her presence, to seem 
 not to know it. The veil of mystery with which 
 Ludmilla had wrapt herself, served as a sufficient 
 pretext for this ; and Catherine engaged the more 
 w^illingly to follow her advice, as it was in accord- 
 ance with the rule she had laid down for herself, 
 and which she had observed so well, that Julia had 
 frequent occasion to admire, in her young friend, 
 that happy union of native simplicity of character 
 with a seriousness, a prudent reserve, and a love of 
 truth, that formed the main elements of her cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Speaking of the great world, and the style of 
 Parisian life, it was impossible for the lady of Du- 
 nerwald to conceal from her its real nature ; the 
 arts, the perfidy, and hollowness, to be met with 
 on every side. Catherine was not a little alarmed ; 
 she could not have supposed society was quite so 
 bad, and she now almost looked forward to her 
 seclusion in a cloister without regret. Her judi- 
 
124 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 cious guardians then sought to enlarge her judg- 
 ment and her information, by convincing her that 
 society, in general, was of a *' mingled yarn,'* com- 
 posed of a mixture of vices and virtues, of good and 
 evil. They took pleasure in expanding her fine 
 and docile mind; teaching her to recognize in her 
 ovrn heart the principles of virtue and of enlighten- 
 ed religion, to set off against the too pleasing, but 
 illusory sentiments, which till then she had nur- 
 tured. By this process, she came to view the con- 
 vent, and the strange life of its recluses, in a dif- 
 ferent point of view. The strong, high-barred 
 windows, and the massy walls of the edifice, made 
 her tremble ; though she felt that virtue and mis- 
 fortune might there find a last refuge from the 
 world. She had conceived that the nun's life was 
 a series of mortifications and penalties, but found 
 so much true piety and benevolence mingled with 
 the ordinary passions of the human heart, that she 
 was long at a loss on what to decide ; but more 
 mature reflection made her cling with more perti- 
 nacity than ever, to the promise given to her cousin 
 Sandor, of coming to no hasty decision. 
 
 Introduced into the first society, and mingling 
 more and more with the world, Catherine now lost 
 that peculiar timidity and want of energy, which 
 formerly made her appear to less advantage. Still, 
 her protectress would not permit her to partake in 
 the lighter and more fashionable amusements of 
 the day, and she had too much respect for Madame 
 de Preysing, to wish to break through her injunc- 
 tions on this head. Fortunately, the carnival also 
 came to a close ; and piety and prayer, moreover, 
 were more natural and easily submitted to, at a pe- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 125 
 
 riod when political storms, and convulsions, shook 
 empires and society to their foundations. More 
 alarming symptoms soon threatened new disasters. 
 Hungary was in a highly disturbed state, and peo- 
 ple anticipated another war with the Turks. 
 
 Catherine was in the habit of hearing repeated, 
 all she had before learnt from the lips of father 
 Isidor, when conversing with her mother. Tokely 
 was believed to be in league with the Porte, and 
 desirous of interrupting the truce. It was then 
 considered scandalous, almost impious, to enter 
 into treaty with the infidels, and the latter seemed 
 now seriously preparing to make new aggressions. 
 The court of Vienna was well informed of these 
 various movements ; for Austria had too much 
 reason, to dread both the Hungarian malcontents, 
 and her Ottoman enemy, not to make the most 
 strenuous exertions to meet the gathering storm. 
 
 The negociations, commenced the preceding year 
 by the Count of Caprara, at Constantinople, were 
 broken off; he had been received by the grand 
 Vizier with the utmost coolness, for the latter was 
 assured that Vienna, was destined to fall by the 
 sword of the Moslems. 
 
 The count's description of the grand seignor's 
 preparations was almost appalling ; the most 
 serious fears were spread abroad ; and Leopold 
 sought, by every means within his reach, to strength- 
 en his cause, by drawing closer, or forming, new 
 alliances. While taking every method of defence, 
 he entered into a strict union, with the elector of 
 Bavaria : the princes of the Germanic confedera- 
 tion were summoned to bring their several contin- 
 gents, and to march to the assistance of Austria, 
 
126 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 While these measures were in progress for ex- 
 ternal defence, no less zeal was shewn in strength- 
 ening the garrison, and all the munitions of war, 
 in the interior of the city. The public mind was 
 in a state of alarm and agitation. The lady of 
 Dunerwald viewed with terror a conflict in which 
 her beloved consort must be exposed to the utmost 
 peril. As in every great crisis, however, hope 
 and fear, by turns, seized upon the varying ru- 
 mours of the hour, — sometimes exaggerating, and 
 at others, underrating the extent of the approach- 
 ing evil. 
 
 Thus the conflicting interests of the great powers 
 were on the eve, it was said, of being reconciled ; 
 yet the ensuing morning brought tidings of the 
 most fearful import ; — such a prince had refused 
 his contingent ; France was arming to support the 
 Turks ; while Sobieski had declined the alliance 
 proposed to him by Austria. The inhabitants v/ere 
 a prey to anxiety and suspense — a suspense of 
 the most agonizing kind, at a period when war 
 was conducted with such unsparing ferocity. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 127 
 
 With all its horrors in our own days, they bear 
 no comparison with the sufferings it inflicted near 
 two centuries ago. 
 
 At length came tidings of the assembly of the 
 imperial forces under Charles of Lorraine, a com- 
 mander universally respected ; of the promised 
 support of Bavaria ; and, finally, that the Polish 
 king had decided to take the side of Austria. 
 That country seemed to rouse, at the voice of its 
 heroic ally, from its dream of terror, such was the 
 warlike renown, and such the personal influence of 
 Sobieski. On the return of Count Wallenstein 
 with a favourable reply from Warsaw, it was con- 
 sidered, by all ranks, as equivalent to the approach 
 of a mighty army, to rescue them from impending 
 doom. He was followed soon by the king's am- 
 bassador, charged by the republic to enter into 
 the terms of a new alliance with the imperial 
 cabinet, and concert such measures as might be 
 called for by the exigency of the time. 
 
 However critical his situation at this moment, 
 Leopold too highly valued the dignity of his im- 
 perial crown, the reputation of his ally, and the 
 splendour which his station exacted from him, not 
 to dismiss all anxious fears for the result, and re- 
 ceived the royal envoy with the same magnificence 
 and ceremony which he so ostentatiously displayed 
 in times of peace. A succession of levees, balls, 
 dinners, and slow and stately celebration of dif- 
 ferent festivals and orders, marked the jealous 
 etiquette with which the imperial family surrounded 
 their court. 
 
 The lady of Dunerwald, in the idea that the 
 Porte would now renounce its hostile attitude, re- 
 
128 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 covered all her gaiety, assisted in the court fes- 
 tivals, and even prevailed with Madame de Preysing 
 to permit Catherine to accompany her. She was 
 present at one of the grand operas, then unique 
 in their kind, and thought more suitable for the 
 ear of an intended recluse, than any other species 
 of popular entertainment. She appeared to the 
 greatest advantage, richly, yet elegantly attired, 
 glowing in youthful charms and beauty, — her 
 whole shape and air presenting something too en- 
 chanting to the eye to be gazed upon without warm 
 emotion. 
 
 The novelty and splendour of the scene, the 
 throng of patrician equipages, the illumination of 
 the streets, as she approached, with the glitter- 
 ing arms of the soldiery ; and the mounted pa- 
 trolles, eager to keep back the populace, hurrying 
 to mingle in the scene ; — all combined to make 
 the liveliest impression upon our young provincial 
 beauty, who listened to and beheld the strange 
 collision of sights and sounds with all the zest of 
 wondering infancy. The rich equipage of the 
 emperor, still bearing the ensigns of the old Spa- 
 nish costume, then approached, and cleared the 
 way to the grand staircase ; the approach led 
 through a long avenue of citron and orange-trees, 
 with other glowing and beautiful shrubs, present- 
 ing a little paradise in the midst of winter, doubly 
 brilliant from lustres of rich lights, which shed 
 fresh radiance on the forms of beauty and chivalry, 
 which followed in rapid and dazzling pomp. The 
 interior itself was a fresh source of wonder. In 
 those times the most important towns had no 
 permanent theatres. Presburg, then so noble, was 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 129 
 
 without one ; and the Viennese opera was extolled 
 as one of the most admirable triumphs of genius 
 and art. Rich crystal lustres, suspended from 
 the dome, and corresponding brilliances round the 
 sides, illuminating the entire house, for the first 
 time struck the eye. The scenes, draperies, boxes, 
 and orchestra, all shone with the luxuriance of a 
 new ornamental genius, — borrowed from Italy, 
 and not unworthy the emulation of a Raphaelesque 
 model, or of Paul Veronese himself. The pre- 
 parations to accommodate the rank and beauty 
 of the court were on a magnificent scale ; the 
 places assigned to the lady of Dunerwald and her 
 company, adjoined the royal seats, elevated in the 
 most conspicuous site of the house. The opening 
 scenery presented a beautiful landscape, so art- 
 fully drawn, as to give a strong illusion to the eye, 
 even to the waving and murmur of the trees and 
 waters, while the golden eagle, with two heads, 
 crowned the whole of these new-wrought decora- 
 tions, and seemed to cleave, with its soaring pinion, 
 the blue, etherial sphere. 
 
 Catherine imagined herself transported into some 
 fairy land ; and could not cease from expressing 
 her delight, and putting a thousand inquiries to 
 her friend, not a little amused at the rustic wonder 
 and naivete which marked every movement of her 
 young protegee, though her opinions evinced a 
 high and cultivated mind. 
 
 On the appearance of the court, a murmur of 
 applause ran through the house, all eyes were di- 
 rected to the spot. This was succeeded by a pro- 
 found silence ; the body-guard of the emperor, with 
 drawn swords, followed by a throng of pages in 
 K 
 
130 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Spanish costume, sparkling with gold, succeeded 
 by the grand master of the ceremonies, with his 
 baton of state, ushered in the imperial family, with 
 the entire court and ministers in full costume. 
 That of the Polish envoy and his suite was emi- 
 nently contrasted, by its breadth and solid costli- 
 ness, with the appearance of the court. The lady 
 of Dunerwald, pointed out the person of the 
 emperor to Catherine : a person, every way so op- 
 posite to the idea she had formed from the descrip- 
 tion of Madame de Preysing, that she could with dif- 
 ficulty persuade herself he was that gallant cavalier 
 of whom she had heard, who now stept before his 
 lady queen into the house. He appeared advanced 
 beyond the meridian of life, of insignificant propor- 
 tions, arrayed in the old Spanish style, in double 
 folds of black silk stuff, fringed on the borders 
 with plaited lace. A Spanish mantle hung down 
 to his knees ; an embroidery of fine Flanders- 
 lace covered his neck and breast; long and ample 
 ruffles of the same reached to the end of his fingers, 
 and he wore a sword, the handle of which glittered 
 with diamonds. He carried his hat in the Spanish 
 fashion, of black velvet, with grand ostrich feathers 
 and a superb agraffe of diamonds, which reminded 
 Catherine of his romantic interview with his first 
 consort. But his features were now worn, his face 
 pale and thoughtful, and his large under lip gave 
 him a look of ill-humour, little in keeping with a 
 hero of romance. He was followed by the empress 
 Leonora, magnificently attired ; but this could not 
 conceal the effects of age, and want of natural 
 beauty. An expression of austerity and sorrow 
 contrasted strangely with her splendid robes, be- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 131 
 
 neath which, too, she was known to carry all the 
 instruments of torture worn by penitents. Cathe- 
 rine sighed, as she thought, that she might one day 
 be compelled to suffer a similar look under the 
 linen habit of the nuns, instead of the splendid 
 drapery of a court. 
 
 The opera at length opened with a grand sym- 
 phony, which seemed to thrill through the whole 
 house, and most of all, through the soul and frame 
 of Catherine, who, before, all eye and curiosity, 
 was now absorbed in the softness and sweetness of 
 the delicious passions that tremble in unison with 
 the chords which strike the ear. 
 
 The curtain rose ; it was Angelica and Alcina, 
 from Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, — the scene a su- 
 perb saloon in Alcina's pavilion ;* the actors ap- 
 peared in the costume of the age of Charlemagne, 
 combined with the taste and splendour of their 
 own times. Thus the Paladins wore huge whigs 
 under their iron helmets, the tails of which reached 
 half down the back, add to which, a kind of small 
 doublet en haleine. The piece opened with a ballet, 
 accompanied by a chorus of cavaliers and nymphs, 
 who proclaimed the arrival of their sovereign. 
 Alcina at length appeared, attended by Medoro, 
 Rogiero, Bradamanti, with their formidable suite ; 
 soon followed by the beautiful Angelica her- 
 self. During the progress of the piece, the floor 
 
 * This opera was actually played ia the Favoritd palace at 
 Vienna, when Leopold was present. The theatre was erected 
 over the grand canal ; in the second act, the stage disappearing, 
 presented the spectacle of boats, sailing along. The libretto of 
 this singular exhibition is still in existence, decorated with en- 
 gravings. 
 
 k2 
 
132 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 suddenly disappeared, and the vision of a clear 
 lake, covered with vessels, met the eye. Here a 
 congregation of monsters, terrestial and marine ; 
 there a naval combat ; battles ; a dance of furies ; 
 metamorphoses of the most wondrous kind, obedient 
 to the motions of the fair magician's wand, and all 
 ending with the most splendid catastrophe in the 
 world. Brilliant transparencies, seen through a 
 grove of laurel, presented a succession of inscrip- 
 tions and devices in honour of the august House of 
 Austria, and its new ally, the king of the Poles. 
 Catherine, transported into a world of enchant- 
 ment, of which she had never dreamed, was lost 
 in a crowd of contending emotions, — alternate 
 surprise, terror, joy, and grief. During an inter- 
 lude, when refreshments were brought in, she had 
 time to recall her scattered spirits from this en- 
 chanted world, and fix her attention upon the ob- 
 jects around. She spoke to her companion, 
 who told her the names of the personages com- 
 posmg the emperor's suite, — men distinguished 
 by rank or reputation ; generals and ministers, 
 among whom figured the celebrated Monte- 
 cuculi, the Prince Zobrowitz, with many others. 
 She thought their appearance did little credit 
 to their high character ; and no one, in this 
 point of view, was to be compared with Count 
 Zriny, and his noble cousin Sandor. The ladies 
 of the court in their splendid dresses, and the pretty 
 pages in their Spanish fashions, standing behind 
 their masters' seats, were to her a source of greater 
 novelty and delight. All at once, in the throng of 
 figures, her eye rested on one, which excited the 
 utmost emotion and surprise. She could scarcely 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 133 
 
 give credence to her senses ; and fancied herself 
 still in a dream. She even studiously averted her 
 eyes, — yet they hung with a sort of fascination 
 upon that one object. It could be no delusion ; it 
 was he — Zriny, — her sister's husband, — he who had 
 exercised an influence so fatal over her own 
 heart ; seated near her in his rich Hungarian uni- 
 form, — and engaged in animated conversation with 
 a lady, more remarkable for the splendour of her 
 appearance, than her beauty. He in a few moments 
 turning suddenly round, caught Catherine's eye 
 intently fixed upon his face. A rapid change crossed 
 his handsome countenance : he seemed as if about 
 to approach her; and she summoned all her pre- 
 sence of mind to think how she should receive him ; 
 yet full of trembling emotion, which was depicted 
 upon her speaking face. Both were ri vetted for a 
 moment by each other's gaze; the next, — could it 
 be possible ! — he turned away with the cold air of 
 one whose eye had rested upon a stranger's ; resum- 
 ing with perfect calmness his conversation with the 
 lady. Catherine was astonished ; and supposed 
 that he really had not recognized her ; indeed, his 
 continued indifference tended to confirm her in 
 this idea ; and it was any thing but flattering. If 
 he had ceased to cherish a recollection of her, she 
 was at least his sister ; yet not one smile or token 
 of recognition ! She felt it deeply, — it afflicted her, 
 and she harassed herself with conjectures as to 
 what she had done to merit so marked a slight. At 
 last, her attention was diverted by an elderly lady, 
 just behind her, who seemed to address herself to 
 one much younger. 
 
 ^* Do you see the handsome count, making love 
 
134 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 to the proud niece of the prime minister ? They 
 say he will marry her." 
 
 '' How can you imagine it V^ replied the other 
 lady ; *' she is so ugly V 
 
 ''You are right, replied the former ; '' but she 
 is so rich ! Zriny has little fortune. Her gold 
 pieces will serve to hide the marks of the small- 
 pox." 
 
 '' I cannot believe it !" cried the younger lady, 
 with warmth ; '' he cannot be so very mean ; — she is 
 neither handsome nor amiable : no, he can never 
 marry the countess." 
 
 '' Ah ! you little know him," replied the elder. 
 *' Zriny is terribly ambitious ; rank, pride and 
 power are his idols ! Who can chalk him out a 
 finer career than the lady's uncle ? The govern- 
 ment of a province for her dowry, would turn all 
 her awkwardness and ugliness into grace and 
 beauty; or rather, he will not trouble himself about 
 her, but pay his vows at some fairer shrine." 
 
 " No doubt of that," said the young lady, 
 smiling ; '' he was made to captivate all eyes ; — 
 has all, both in person and manners, to be but too 
 agreeable. He will succeed in any career ; he 
 wants no minister and ugly niece to obtain any 
 place he may wish. Is he not the favourite of the 
 emperor himself?" 
 
 "How eloquent you are in the count's praise !" 
 said the elder. 
 
 " I simply do him justice ; the world acknowledges 
 it. He must — he will be, rich and powerful; will 
 occupy what post he pleases in the whole empire." 
 
 " I differ with you there ! No fortune, his family 
 estate confiscated ; depend upon it, people will 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 135 
 
 think twice, before they give their daughter to a 
 handsome beggar, whose father perished on the 
 scaffold.'* 
 
 ** But he is innocent," retorted his young ad- 
 vocate ; **and the emperor's regard has completely 
 renovated his name. Who shall dare to remember, 
 what the monarch himself is pleased to forget ?" 
 
 *' Ah, the charmer !" replied the elder lady ; 
 *^ this is another proof of his seductive powers. 
 He turns your heads, and then he ruins you ; — all 
 out of vanity ; and were you not already married, 
 you might hope to have that honour." 
 
 " You are rather severe, madam," interrupted 
 the young lady in an altered tone ; *' and you are 
 deceived ; for my praise is wholly disinterested ; 
 the count is already wed." 
 
 '* Wed, truly ! how can that be ?" (Catherine 
 was now all ear.) 
 
 "Yes, wed I say ! he married a young Flemish 
 lady." 
 
 Here the old lady burst into a laugh — " Ah, ah, 
 ah ! a very pretty story ! — I heard of it too — 
 some Marchioness of Villecamp, was it not ? Don't 
 believe a word of it ; only his mistress ; ah^ ahj 
 ah !" 
 
 *' No such thing," exclaimed the younger ; 
 (Catherine could have embraced her;) *' she was 
 the widow of a distinguished officer ; a woman of 
 infinite fashion, grace and wit; she enjoys the 
 best society of Paris, — she is a delightful, angelic 
 creature." 
 
 '* Yes, I dare say she is pretty enough," replied 
 the elder lady, in a most provoking tone ; ** an 
 awkward, plain-faced Miss, would ill have played 
 
136 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 such a part. She is, however, a despicable crea- 
 ture : no one of any reputation will notice her. 
 Her company is all of one class ; she enjoys no 
 real consideration." 
 
 ''Who is she then?'' inquired the younger : **do 
 you know her history V 
 
 *' That I do ! She was a young novice whom he 
 ran away with from her convent, and carried her 
 to Paris, where he could live more at his ease. If 
 he were married,— if she were really a person of 
 consideration, why does she not make her appear- 
 ance with him at court ? Why, my dear, doesn't 
 she go by the same name ?" 
 
 " Family reasons, perhaps." 
 
 " Ah, you are too good ! It is all nothing but 
 intrigue ; a momentary preference, that will soon 
 end, like so many others of a similar kind. He 
 will marry the plain countess, and pay his present 
 incumbrance off with her money ; or perhaps make 
 her over to some kind friend." 
 
 " Not very likely, I think ; for if she came out 
 of a convent, she ought to be considered virtuous 
 till the moment she first saw and loved her se- 
 ducer." 
 
 " I know not whether she were nun or novice ; 
 perhaps a mere pensioner ; but whatever she were, 
 if she even married him in secret, she must be con- 
 tent to be his mistress in public opinion. Now, 
 what virtuous woman would submit to so humi- 
 liating a condition V 
 
 Such was the language of a woman, respected 
 for the strictness of her principles, if not for her 
 age ; each word from whose lips smote like a 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 137 
 
 dagger, to the heart of the unhappy Catherine, 
 Fortunately, the second act was at hand, and im- 
 posed silence on the house ; but she had already 
 heard too much. What a fearful situation for her 
 sister ! how severely was she judged ! and what 
 wretched prospects for her disastrous and myste- 
 rious union ! What cold-blooded vanity in her 
 lord, to refuse her the sanction of a name, and to 
 aspire to the paltry reputation of a man of plea- 
 sure, at liberty to carry his vows to whatever other 
 shrine he approved ! 
 
 All her sympathy in the magic scene was at an 
 end : in vain for her the mimic lake now spread its 
 surface to the view, the enchanted isles floating on 
 its bosom, and the barges splendidly decorated, 
 sailing obedient to the mariner's call. And next a 
 volcano, at the summons of fair Alcina's wand, 
 appeared on one of the islands ; and a terrific 
 monster, starting from the flames, seemed on the 
 point of devouring the wretched Angelica, chained 
 to a rock upon the sea-side, But, petrified at 
 sight of the shield of Rugiero, the fearful object 
 was instantly transformed by the magician, Atlanta, 
 into two ships. 
 
 Add to this spectacle, all that the charms of 
 music and the dance could combine, to awaken 
 the attention of Catherine, but their charm was 
 fled ; the image of Zriny haunted her, like that of 
 some evil genius, with his unholy rites. The way 
 in which he had fascinated the eye, and seduced 
 the heart of her sister, whom she likened to Ange- 
 lica, exposed in the stony isle, deserted by all her 
 friends, and on the point of being devoured by the 
 
138 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 monster of shame and calumny. And, alas! she 
 had neither the valiant Rugiero, nor the faithful 
 Bradamante for her champions. Unless she her- 
 self, and Sandor, without the aid of magic shield, 
 took up her cause, what would become of her ! 
 She was, indeed, prepared to do all that a sister 
 could, to rescue her from the malice of the world : 
 she would write to Sandor, and to her uncle of 
 Ferronay, what she had heard, and acquaint them 
 with the treachery of her consort. 
 
 She felt relieved, after coming to this resolution, 
 and sought again to interest herself in the passing 
 scene, and in watching the departure of the court. 
 The house began to clear, and the tumult, and 
 bustle of equipages was heard as loud as before. 
 Catherine perceived that the count had joined the 
 suite of the emperor, in company with the young 
 lady with whom he had been so earnestly con- 
 versing, who appeared to belong also to that of 
 the empress. Zriny passed close to Catherine, 
 without deigning one look of recognition. She felt 
 doubly indignant, vowing anew, to snatch her sister 
 from the power of one so base and perfidious. 
 
 On retiring from the theatre, Julia advised her 
 young companion to keep as close to her side as 
 possible. This was, however, extremely difficult ; 
 the crush was tremendous ; and spite of their united 
 efforts, they were, ere long, separated, and borne 
 to some distance from each other. All at once she 
 heard her name pronounced by some one near her; 
 she startled, for she was an entire stranger in Vienna, 
 or known only to one, whose voice she now seemed 
 to recognise. She turned towards the spot whence 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 139 
 
 she thought it came, and trembled with alarm, as 
 she saw a man wrapped in a large mantle, his face 
 concealed, and who again pronounced her name, 
 adding, — *' Pity the most wretched of mankind ! 
 hear me, if only for a single moment." It could 
 be no other ; it was the voice of Zriny, close to her 
 ear. She even saw his insidious smile ; her pride 
 and anger were in arms ; she would have rushed 
 from the spot, but could not move a step. She 
 turned away her head, but he still persevered : 
 ** Listen, I beseech you, for the sake of your dear 
 Ludmilla; it is for her I speak.'* The sound of 
 that sweet, harmonious voice, recalling all the 
 past, shook her resolution, and her emotion was 
 extreme. Still, anger flushed her countenance ; she 
 was about to express it, when, again interrupting 
 her; *' For Heaven's sake, sweet Catherine, no re- 
 proaches now ; judge me after you have heard. 
 To-morrow, doubtless, you will go to mass, at the 
 convent of the Heaven-Gate, — there I must meet 
 you.'' 
 
 Too alarmed, too agitated to refuse, or to comply, 
 Catherine stood rivetted to the spot ; and when she 
 again looked round her, Zriny had disappeared. 
 It was now her object, to rejoin her friend ; for 
 though separated, Julia had never lost sight of her, 
 and in a few moments her carriage was announced. 
 During their return, Catherine was sad and silent ; 
 her friend attributed to fatigue, what was the result 
 of violent and conflicting emotion. What was she 
 to think ? — how should she act, indulging, as she 
 did, such strange and fearful suspicions of the 
 count ? She was startled at the idea of meeting him ; 
 
140 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 yet did not her silence imply assent ; and his last 
 words conveyed the impression, that he was more 
 unfortunate than culpable. On reaching Madame 
 de Preysing's, whither the lady of Dunerwald con- 
 ducted her, to recount her evening's adventures to 
 her mother, Catherine was still silent and absorbed, 
 and soon, under pretence of a violent headache, 
 asked permission to withdraw to rest. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Alas ! the tumult of Catherine's spirits was as little 
 calmed by solitude, — now, more than ever, she 
 felt distressed. Torn by conflicting motives, pas- 
 sions, and doubts, what ought she, — what could 
 she do ? Was Zriny, the treacherous being he was 
 represented ? Was he only the object of envy and 
 calumny ? And what could her sister mean, by stat- 
 ing, that he did all in his power to promote her 
 happiness ! How did this last, again, harmonize with 
 his particular attentions, of which she had been a 
 witness, to another lady ? Was he merely acting a 
 part to deceive the world ? — had refused to recognise 
 her before the court, from the peculiarity of his 
 situation ? The whole was a web of mystery, which 
 she could, by no dexterity, unravel ; yet, with all 
 its mystery, his manner was so noble, so gentle, so 
 full of confidence in naming Ludmilla ; — no, he 
 could not be a villain ! She would not judge him 
 harshly, — the husband of her sister, her half-bro- 
 ther, — had he not a right to claim her interest in 
 his welfare, and favourable regard. Assuredly the 
 elopement was wrong; it must have been displeas- 
 
142 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ing also to the count's family ; and were their 
 union to be incautiously announced, it might entail 
 on both, a series of persecutions and miseries. 
 Hence the cause of his apparent slight, and the ex- 
 treme reserve he had shown in public. The result 
 of all these was a determination to meet him, and 
 to run whatever risk there might be, for the sake of 
 her beloved sister. 
 
 Morning, however, as is usual, brought other 
 feelings ; the imagination, and the excitation of the 
 past day, having yielded to repose. To meet him 
 too in a church, at such an hour, shocked her sense 
 of propriety, and her sincerity at once. It seemed 
 impossible : — and what might be the result of such 
 a meeting, should she be observed ? She resolved, 
 then, not to go, spite of whatever view he might 
 take of her conduct. He had injured her family 
 sufficiently already, she considered ; she would incur 
 no fresh responsibility of any kind, and she deter- 
 mined not to go to the place appointed. In the midst 
 of these conflicting feelings, the hour arrived, and 
 nearly the whole town was preparing to be present 
 at the solemn festival ; for the image of the Virgin, 
 the saint patroness, had the reputation of having 
 worked several miracles. At the time of which we 
 are speaking, the citizens led a more domestic and 
 quiet life, than at present ; there were less both of 
 social and public assemblies, fewer theatres, balls, 
 promenades ; in short, of those refinements, and 
 luxuries of civilization, which every where meet the 
 eye. They were sought for only in churches, — a 
 sort of chivalrous spirit of religion embodied its 
 mysteries in the splendours of worldly sway ; and 
 devotion, mixed with curiosity, sought as far as 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 143 
 
 possible, to multiply the number of saintly f^tes, 
 as a means of general reunion and communication. 
 On this occasion, the monastery was opened to 
 the public, and most splendidly decorated. The 
 nuns received the visits of friends and relatives, 
 treating them with sweetmeats, and exhibiting the 
 various specimens of their quiet labours. The 
 church was magnificently illuminated ; the people 
 hastened thither in throngs ; and beauty, rank, and 
 splendour, from every quarter, filled the busy streets 
 and squares. The pious ceremonies were conclud- 
 ed, with the holy benediction, which was celebrated 
 with all that pomp, and all that music, with a full 
 choir of female voices, could impress through the 
 senses, upon the soul. At that moment, the throng 
 was innumerable ; and from the position of the 
 great altar, and the entire celebration of the cere- 
 monies, Zriny could have selected no better spot to 
 converse with his sister-in-law unobserved. Unde- 
 cided to the last, Catherine, listened to the bell 
 announcing the last act of the grand religious 
 drama before her. She had beheld from her win- 
 dows, the throngs hurrying to the spot, and she 
 thought of him, who migKt then be anxiously ex- 
 pecting her ; — perhaps amiable and unfortunate, 
 and little deserving of such neglect. Her imagina- 
 tion, too, painted in forcible colours, what sorrow 
 her absence might ultimately produce, for the 
 gentle hearted Ludmilla, even to Zriny himself; and 
 she could not resist the appeal to all the best feel- 
 ings of her nature, and she instantly set out. 
 Madame de Preysing was too ill to accompany her ; 
 she was attended only by a domestic, whose cu- 
 riosity, she knew, would be too well occupied to 
 
144 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 interrupt her interview with the count. Her 
 heart beat violently, as she stepped over the sacred 
 threshold, — she felt it a sort of profanation to be 
 there upon such an object ; but it was too late to 
 hesitate, and she soon found herself in the sombre 
 recess behind the altar, to which she had been di- 
 rected. What were her terror and surprise on 
 reaching it, to behold, not the form of Zriny, but 
 that of a much taller figure, his face concealed in 
 his mantle, with only his dark eyes visible, and 
 fixed intently upon her. She cast her eyes away 
 in alarm, as if in search of her attendant ; she 
 secretly began to accuse the count of some fresh 
 plot, when her name was audibly heard close to 
 her. It was Zriny. An involuntary awe crept 
 over her ; she could not meet his dark and piercing 
 glance, yet mixed with an expressive melancholy, 
 which gave new interest to his handsome features. 
 The sound of his voice, too, again seemed to pene- 
 trate to her inmost soul, and awaken the utmost 
 sympathy and pity. 
 
 '* How can I thank you," said he, in a half 
 whisper, '"' for having listened to my prayer ? Oh, 
 Catherine! you grant me a favour — -so dear and 
 cherished — that I feel grateful to the bottom of 
 my soul." 
 
 *' No more of that !" returned Catherine, ^* we 
 have only a few moments ; speak to me of my 
 sister." 
 
 ** She is well ! and as happy as a woman can 
 be supposed, who unites her fate to one of the 
 most unfortunate of beings." 
 
 '' Why, then," exclaimed Catherine, " does she 
 l^ot bear your name ? why is she not with you ? 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 145 
 
 why refuse to recognise me V* and she threw as 
 much severity into her tone as possible. 
 
 Zriny cast down his eyes, and his features grew 
 yet darker. ^' It is my unhappy lot," he resumed ; 
 ** I dare not avow the possession of a treasure, 
 more valued than all the world beside ; I came 
 here to justify my conduct, but the time is so 
 short ! Ah ! how much I have to confide to you — 
 on which to consult your excellent judgment; I 
 submit myself wholly to you ; for I know that 
 you will not refuse to sympathize, to console, to 
 pity, though an unjust world condemn.'' 
 
 Catherine felt moved ; and she could as little 
 gaze upon those noble features clouded by grief, as 
 hear his voice without a corresponding throb. No, 
 she could not now think ill of him : he had been 
 vilely calumniated ; and she turned towards him 
 with more of confidence and gentleness in her looks 
 and words; ** Count ! it is possible you may have 
 motives I cannot comprehend ; but the world can- 
 not appreciate them any more than myself, and the 
 honour of a sister is at stake." 
 
 " Your sister relies wholly upon me," was the 
 answer : ** she knows my principles, all my views 
 and motives. Yes, her mind is too elevated to 
 sacrifice them to her own worldly views. Read 
 this, my sweet, excellent sister ; it contains my 
 vindication : peruse it with attention, for it will 
 ensure me your friendship and esteem." He put it 
 into her hands with an expression of countenance, 
 so confiding, yet so appealing and sorrowful, as 
 went to her inmost heart, — prest her hands be- 
 tween his, and before she could reply a word, had 
 hastily vanished. 
 
146 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Catherine stood rivetted to the spot, the letter in 
 her hand, absorbed in strange conjectures as to the 
 new light it must throw upon the fate of her sister; 
 for he in whose hands it was, had not only preserved the 
 same air of mystery, but refused to relieve her anxiety 
 from his own lips. She looked around, — her at- 
 tendant was gone ; the church was more thronged 
 than ever; she could not stir ; the tall mysterious 
 stranger, too, approached her ; his dark eyes bent 
 upon hers. It was now, in her anguish, that she re- 
 pented her rash step ; and she continued almost 
 fainting with terror till the close of the service, 
 when the multitude again pouring forth, carried 
 her away in the stream ; and she at length found 
 herself beyond the precincts of the holy temple, 
 and perceived her attendant anxiously looking out 
 for her. She looked back ; — the strange unknown 
 was there, — step by step he followed, and what was 
 her terror, when he actually entered the mansion of 
 Madame Preysing, at the same moment ! She pro- 
 ceeded rapidly along the staircase, reached the cor- 
 ridor, but the figure was still at her side. She 
 stopt ; she tried to speak ; and fixing her eyes up- 
 on him, he threw aside his large cloak, and revealed 
 the features of father Isidor. The sight of an 
 assassin, with dagger in hand, had been more wel- 
 come to poor Catherine ; for he had doubtless been 
 a witness to her interview with the count ; and he 
 was the last being in the world, whose eye she 
 could have borne at such a moment. He now fixed 
 upon her a look of scrutiny, that seemed to read her 
 soul ; slowly shook his head, and in a calm voice, 
 strangely contrasted with her perturbed spirit ; 
 '' I am come/' he said, *^ from the castle of Clamm;" 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 147 
 
 — an announcement that, giving a new direction 
 to Catherine's ideas, enabled her to struggle with 
 her feelings, and bear the keen, searching eye of 
 the holy father. 
 
 ** And how, then, is my dearest mother ?" was 
 her eager inquiry. 
 
 *' I left the Baroness Volkersdorf well ; and I 
 am the bearer of her tender love. For myself, I am 
 come to inquire into your affairs, and when you in- 
 dulge the hope of returning to our convent. But 
 we are here exposed to the cold air ; you appear 
 overcome, — I will attend you to your apartment;'' 
 and with an air of confidential mystery, he led her 
 away. The moment of the dreaded confession was 
 at hand ; it was inevitable, and Catherine's suffer- 
 ing was extreme. She endeavoured to reach the 
 apartment of Madame Preysing, — she must see 
 her ; but the priest, as if aware of her purpose, 
 bade her domestic show them to that of Miss Vol- 
 kersdorf; to leave the wax light, and to retire. 
 He seated his pupil, more dead than alive, in a 
 chair ; taking another, he drew it close to hers, and 
 again beckoning to the lingering attendant, alarm- 
 ed at the deathly paleness of her young mistress, 
 told her to be gone. After contemplating his vic- 
 tim for some time, satisfied of the powerful impres- 
 sion he had made, — the stern inquisition was com- 
 menced. If any thing could be a relief to Catherine 
 at this time, it was, that it did not bear upon the 
 interview she had just held with the count. In a 
 solemn, but mild tone, father Isidor first spoke to 
 her of her mother : and she sought to confine him 
 to this topic, by making a thousand simple inqui- 
 ries, interesting only to herself. But he saw and 
 L 2 
 
148 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 defeated her object. Bringing her back, however, 
 reluctantly to the point he wished, he required 
 her to answer with sincerity, ** if she were prepared 
 to enter on her future holy life with becoming zeal ; 
 she was called to it ; and her mother was exceed- 
 ingly anxious on this head.'* 
 
 Catherine was confused and distressed ; she an- 
 swered, that she had lived as much as possible in 
 retirement ; nay, in solitude ; — she had devoted 
 herself to the perusal of serious works, — to reli- 
 gious contemplations ; and that in this respect her 
 conscience was free from any actual reproach. 
 Yet this did not satisfy the priest ; he would have 
 a particular account of the different devotional 
 exercises in which she had joined. In her replies, 
 she failed to conciliate, or to come up to the mark 
 to which his strange and captious questions tended. 
 He saw clearly enough, that through all the secret 
 confessions he extorted from her bosom, however 
 pure and religiously inclined, there prevailed a 
 strong feeling of aversion towards the deeply se- 
 cluded existence, the many irritating and self de- 
 nying acts, and wearying ceremonies which fill up 
 the hours, days, and years, the lingering and living 
 death, of a conventual life ; and that so far from 
 loving it the more by her occasional residence and 
 trials, she thought with horror upon the lot to 
 which she was condemned. His features grew 
 darker and darker, as she proceeded : *^ And what,'^' 
 he interrupted her, — "what! young woman, will 
 be the result, think you, of this palpable reluc- 
 tance for the state to which you have been chosen ? 
 Do you imagine that wandering thoughts, and fri- 
 volous desires, the harsh fruit of a young untutor- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 149 
 
 ed heart, — are to be allowed to dissolve a sacred 
 engagement taken in the face of Heaven ?" 
 
 *^0h heavens! have pity on me — do not talk 
 thus sternly; it was not I, — indeed it was not I, 
 who was destined to redeem such a vow ; and I 
 may look on myself in this respect as entirely free." 
 
 **And who taught you, young lady, to make 
 these subtle distinctions ?" said the father, in an 
 angry tone. **Dare you to question the Almighty's 
 claim upon his erring creatures, and the sacrifices, 
 it is his will, to exact? Was Isaac consecrated to 
 Heaven ? Was his father not bound to pay a debt 
 to Heaven, as sacred as that which your mother 
 has contracted for you ? God had given this off- 
 spring to Abraham's old age ; the happiness — the 
 very existence of a long line of posterity rested 
 upon the boy's life ; yet Abraham hesitated not to 
 comply with the will of God, and the gentle Isaac, 
 young woman, resisted it not." 
 
 '*That is true, holy father ; but God was then 
 speaking to the patriarchs ; and in a language 
 open to no doubts, or question." 
 
 "Ah! and dream you, — a poor strayed lamb, 
 — that ye may doubt ?" returned the father, half 
 pitying, half scoffingly. 
 
 " No, good father, but it appears to me " 
 
 " That thou art too worldly-minded and stub- 
 born," interrupted he ; *' and that you wish to 
 sport your reason against your faith. Do you not 
 tremble to oppose so frail a weapon, against the 
 heavenly armour and the oracles of revelation ? Oh 
 pride! oh folly! that first led to perdition, and will 
 lead you, with infatuated millions, again. Why this 
 reason is a feather, each one wears as it liketh him, 
 
150 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 and blown about by every gust of passion, — the 
 toy of our fancy, now caressed, now thrown aside, 
 with every varying whim ; and will you make that 
 the arbiter of your duties, without regard to the 
 eternal happiness of your mother and of yourself, 
 in jeopardy by your silly arguments, because, for- 
 sooth, you will decide on the momentous ques- 
 tion of the souFs salvation, or perdition V 
 
 ^* Father!" replied Catherine, with more firm- 
 ness than before, ** your words would terrify me, did 
 not my conscience assure me, you failed to ap- 
 preciate my motives and feelings. I am sensible 
 of the high importance, — the truth of what you ad- 
 vance ; only this cannot apply to me ; I do not 
 obey the dictates of a fallacious reason, but of a 
 voice you yourself must acknowledge as most 
 sacred — the holy voice of conscience ; — is it not 
 that of God ? It is that which tells me, I should 
 commit sin to take the veil, while in my heart I 
 feel such repugnance to it.*' 
 
 '* What do I hear ! my dear young lady," said 
 the priest, in a more conciliatory, and even sor- 
 rowful, though austere tone. In what school have 
 you been educated ? Who has betrayed your fine 
 understanding by such wicked sophisms, tempting 
 your pure nature to deceive alike your God and 
 yourself ?" 
 
 '* The whole is the result of my own reflection 
 and solemn conviction, father ; no other person is 
 to blame ; and, from all my most serious scrutiny, 
 I find — " 
 
 " That it is more easy and agreeable to love the 
 world, and comply with its desires, than to enter 
 into heaven by the strait gate. But there is no 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 151 
 
 question here of further argument or exhortation ; 
 — the will of God — imperious necessity, too, must 
 be obeyed, when the moment for pronouncing your 
 vows shall arrive. '^ 
 
 *' That moment is not yet come," replied Ca- 
 therine, with a calmness and firmness which asto- 
 nished her, when she afterwards reflected upon the 
 scene. *' No, it is not come," she continued ; 
 ** and, ere it do — we are, alas ! such frail, wretched 
 beings — no one can tell what Heaven may please 
 to dispose — what — " 
 
 ** Yes, you flatter yourself, some lucky circum- 
 stance will intervene ; — that is your boasted reason 
 which deceives you. I am shocked at the wilful 
 progress you have made in worldly love, and a 
 fall from heavenly things ; — yet I wonder not, 
 when you take a Count Zriny for your tutor ; when 
 you are fallen to that extreme, that you scruple 
 not to make a place of assignation of the holy 
 house of the eternal God !" 
 
 These words, pronounced in a voice of terrific 
 denunciation, fell, like a thunder-bolt, on the 
 wretched girl ; her eyes sunk under his searching 
 glance; and, for some time, she could not speak. 
 At length, she stammered out — ** You are aware, 
 my father, of the intimate connection between the 
 count and our family ; and my sister's husband — " 
 
 " Your sister's husband ! Are you credulous 
 enough to believe that he is united by the marriage 
 vow to Ludmilla V* 
 
 ** I have no doubt of it ; — my sister's own let- 
 ters, and the count's own declaration — " 
 
 ** Mere snares to catch fools ! invented to smooth 
 your poor mother's pillow ere she depart. Her 
 
152 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 children have already nearly broken her heart. 
 But it is better, perhaps, for you to go on, and 
 deceive with these unfounded delusions — she can- 
 not learn the truth ; but for me, you must excuse 
 my being a dupe to the fiction of your sister's 
 marriage/' 
 
 ** What, then, do you think of my sister ? — can 
 you suppose her capable! — no, it is impossible !" 
 
 ** And why ? — she could surely venture to sa- 
 crifice her reputation, after sacrificing her own 
 mother, and the salvation of her immortal soul. 
 I tell you she is his mistress, and is considered 
 such at Paris. She never resides with him ; she 
 bears not his name ; yet allows herself to be sup- 
 ported in a most brilliant style.'' 
 
 Poor Catherine only hung her head, and wept ; 
 for she could not but feel, that what the priest said 
 agreed too well with all she had heard at the 
 opera; — she felt deeply humiliated, and could 
 make no reply. 
 
 '' Your sister's mansion," continued the cruel 
 priest, '' is the resort of all the free-thinkers, 
 schismatics, and v/ould-be philosophers, — with Hu- 
 guenots, and all that tribe which haunt atheistical 
 Paris; — pretty society for a young creature, de- 
 dicated, from her birth, to the holy service of the 
 Lord ! Her lover has no religion ; he is in secret 
 alliance with cursed Musselmans, the bitterest ene- 
 mies of Christ; and he is ready, like a second 
 Judas, to betray his master and his God into the 
 hands of miscreants." 
 
 '^ Oh, indeed, holy father, you go too far!" 
 cried Catherine, half indignant ; *' never will I 
 believe Count Zriny capable of such a crime." 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 153 
 
 ** And the seduction of a holy virgin devoted 
 to Heaven ! was not that a crime ?" inquired the 
 father, in a triumphant tone ; *' but I see you 
 know nothing of the count, — you behold every 
 thing through a false medium ; if not, you would 
 never have been guilty of the folly and audacity of 
 giving him the meeting in a church. He has cast 
 his fascinations round you, — you cannot judge 
 of, or view him in his actual form." 
 
 ** Nay, father, there you are wholly mistaken — 
 indeed you are." 
 
 *' I know you better than you do yourself; — he 
 makes you think just as it is his pleasure. I tell 
 you he has ruined your sister ; and, mark me ! he 
 will ruin you too, and end with rushing into per- 
 dition with you both !" With these fearful words, 
 father Isidor arose, and, wishing Catherine good 
 night, recommended her to the care of Heaven ; at 
 the same time conjuring her to reflect on what he 
 had said, and take heed how she trusted herself 
 again in the presence of Zriny. *' He would now 
 go," he added, '* to the convent of the Heaven- 
 gate, and speak to the lady abbess respecting her 
 taking the novice's veil, as soon as possible, to 
 snatch her from the terrific lot which had befallen 
 her unhappy sister." 
 
1^4 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The holy father had left Catherine in a state of 
 indescribable distress. It was some time before 
 she could sufficiently collect her spirits to reflect 
 upon her strange, unhappy situation, and the still 
 more serious one of her sister. Soon, she recol- 
 lected the letter which the count had placed in her 
 hands ; she trembled to open it, after the dreadful 
 description of him which she had just heard. 
 What was her joy, to lay her hand then on a letter 
 from Ludmilla herself, enclosed in another from 
 Zriny, which contained the following words : 
 
 ** When you, see this, my beloved sister, the 
 writer of it will be far away ; he, whose strange 
 fate it has been, like that of all his unfortunate 
 kindred, scarcely once to experience a brief truce, 
 since he first hailed the light, to the bitter misfor- 
 tunes that have assailed him. This it is, which 
 has so long a period prevented his partaking of the 
 society of a sister, to whom he is tenderly attached; 
 who is the beloved one of his ever cherished, and 
 excellent Ludmilla. An irresistible fate, has again 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 155 
 
 compelled your brother to quit Vienna, with all its 
 brilliant connections, and you, my sweet sister, 
 most deserving of all my regard. Alas ! even a 
 lot, more trying is reserved for me; I must leave 
 the most precious bond of our union, the tender 
 charge consigned me by Heaven ; — ah ! my Lud- 
 milla, how shall I support existence without thee, the 
 light and beauty of my dark and bewildered path. 
 You, my Catherine, know my position, and can ap- 
 preciate my motives ; not like those narrow-minded 
 beings who prefer their own happiness to the study 
 of the general good. A life of despicable and igno- 
 ble ease, while our country and humanity groan 
 under their sufferings, can never be the choice of a 
 generous soul,— of souls like yours, and my Ludmil- 
 la's, which would scorn to check me in an useful and 
 honourable career. When I shall have attained the 
 goal, — when success shall have crowned my daring 
 and long loved enterprise with the laurels of honour 
 due to the saviour of his country ; when outraged 
 humanity, restored to its rights and its true dignity, 
 shall grace his triumph ; then will I turn to you, 
 and say with pride, I have fulfilled the duty set me 
 by my great task-master : let us now think of our 
 own happiness. Ludmilla approves my views ; her 
 mind, at once noble and energetic, sacrifices her 
 repose to the honour of a husband who appreciates 
 all her worth. Spite of the envious malice, and 
 folly of the world, she confides implicitly in my 
 character ; and you, my dear sister, to whom I 
 dare not farther confide my sentiments on paper, 
 you will rightly interpret and appreciate my 
 motives. Let me hope that you will add some- 
 thing of the courage and energy of our beloved 
 
156 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Ludmilla, to your own pure mind arid clear judg- 
 ment. Let your heart, like hers, whisper gentle 
 thoughts and feelings in my favour, and believe 
 me wholly incapable of any meanness, of any 
 action, which virtue would wish to disavow. Deny 
 me not your friendship, forget me not. — Adieu !" 
 
 The confusion and peplexity of Catherine's mind 
 after perusing this letter, mingled with anxiety and 
 fear, deprived her of all power of thought. Not- 
 withstanding its high flown enthusiasm, and enig- 
 matical allusions, it still left an impression favour- 
 able to her sister's honour, that she was really the 
 count's wife. She tried to rally her spirits, and to 
 satisfy her doubts by perusing her sister's letter. 
 Heaving a deep sigh, she opened it, and read as 
 follows : 
 
 ** You will receive these lines from the hand of 
 him who is dearest to me upon earth. My husband 
 promises me to see, and to give it you himself. 
 Yes, you will see, and hear him speak, while to me 
 that happiness, that one loved and supreme bless- 
 ing, is snatched from me. Heaven only can tell for 
 how long a time. What a cruel infliction, even at 
 the very moment of our reunion ! Absence and 
 love like mine, appears like some frightful abyss, 
 round which storm and darkness lower, and spectral 
 forms of horrible and threatening meaning appal 
 the eye. Ah, how happy was I once ! — I cannot 
 express how I then felt ; and I yet am in the con- 
 fidence of being beloved by the noblest of men, for 
 Zriny still tenderly loves me ; his passionate atten- 
 tions, and even his jealous care, convince me of 
 the delicious truth. But he is not like the vulgar 
 herd of men ; his daring and lofty spirit, cannot be 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 157 
 
 chained at the chariot-wheels of the base, time- 
 servins: world : he cannot live and breathe, and love 
 and hate, as it requires of its feeble victims. I am 
 no stranger to his opinions, his principles and his 
 projects ; my bosom is the depository of his secret 
 hopes. He scorns to class me with the rest of my 
 frail sex ; his confidence has enabled, and given 
 me courage and energy, even to struggle with his 
 absence. Yes, could he require it of me, I think I 
 could almost renounce him ; but, no, I would not 
 boast ; I would not so far tempt the vengeance of 
 Heaven. Although the world may scoff, and de- 
 ceive itself, with false appearances, the better to 
 win the worship of its idols, it cannot interrupt the 
 bliss of our union ; it cannot shake my conviction, 
 that I possess his love, and that he ranks high 
 above all other men. Yes, our union is indissoluble, 
 our love is stronger than death ! What then have 
 we to fear, if we form each other's happiness ; if we 
 are above the world and its appearances, and in- 
 different as to the opinions it may entertain. I can 
 suffer, or support, all that so base a world can in- 
 flict. If he only encourage me, I shall triumph, 
 for to him does my heart, my very nature, and 
 inmost hopes cling fast, as the flower to its native 
 stem. Our marriage is yet a secret to the world, 
 and so it must continue ; but it is no mystery to 
 you, my dearest, nor to our honoured mother, to 
 whom I intreat you to communicate every thing 
 you know. Do not, however, breathe a syllable to 
 any other living being ; and there is one in your 
 house, whom I have reason to dread ; his influence 
 is without bounds, and it has already reached me. 
 " I could not hear without shuddering, that that 
 
168 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 man had tried to extend his evil agency into my 
 affairs. He has friends and connections at Paris, 
 in part known to the count ; and he has warned 
 me to be upon the watch against the snares they 
 may lay in my path. Yet, at this juncture, it is of 
 the last importance that he should be considered 
 unmarried, and I am fully aware of the motives for 
 it. He is in need of all his natural advantages, 
 his energy, his powers of persuasion, to accomplish 
 the brilliant destiny to which he was born, and in 
 which his consort and his whole family will parti- 
 cipate. A time will come, when these apparent 
 enigmas will be explained, and when his sister will 
 occupy a rank and consideration, worthy of her 
 high, confiding nature, envied by the world. Count 
 Zriny will then stand fully justified in her eyes; 
 in those of the public, and of his humiliated ene- 
 mies. Till then we must suffer ; but will not abate 
 our confidence in his love. Let him dispose of me, 
 as it may seem good ; I know that his actions will 
 result from a fine and great mind. Indulge no un- 
 easiness, therefore, respecting me; pity me not, 
 and let nothing from me pass your lips. Ask for 
 my dear mother's blessing, for the girl once so 
 dear to her*; and, oh I forget not, to pray earnestly 
 to God for me, if you think it can be of avail for 
 one like me. Ah ! how happy you are, if you can 
 indeed pray with the same hope and faith, as once 
 I did. With me, my former impressions of this 
 kind, seem yielding to other thoughts ; and fast 
 fading away. A new and strange light appears to 
 have risen over my darkened path ; yet can I not 
 decide hitherto, whether it hath sprung from a 
 good or an evil source. The count has peculiar 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 159 
 
 ideas on the subject : with such a guide I cannot 
 go wrong ; and I follow in his steps. When happy, 
 as we are in each other, all else appears simple, 
 and easily explained. Since that blissful era, how 
 rnany things have changed ! our mutual love only 
 continues the same. Adieu, my dearest; — Zriny 
 presses to be gone : once more, farewell ! 
 
 LuDMiLLA, Countess Zriny.'' 
 
 If the language of the count's letter had per- 
 plexed poor Catherine's understanding, this com- 
 pleted the strange confusion of her mind. She 
 could find nothing on which she could reason, or 
 draw the least satisfactory conclusion, from expres- 
 sions and opinions so very singular. She read 
 again and again ; but the only inference at which 
 she could arrive, was the painful one, that her sister 
 was any thing but really happy, and that she stood 
 in a very dubious and critical position. Her sus- 
 picions of Zriny revived with additional force, and 
 these, when coupled with Zriny's own words, the 
 language of father Isidor, and popular rumours, 
 presented a combination of evidence truly afflicting 
 to reflect upon. One thing was but too clear ; he 
 had quitted her : and, with the reputation of an 
 unmarried man, pursued his intriguing and dan- 
 gerous career, possibly, as the wily priest suspected, 
 in league with the enemies of his country. She 
 saw her sister a prey to anxiety and terror, pas- 
 sionately attached to a wild and daring traitor, 
 without the power or the wish to break so perilous 
 a connection. Possessing an almost magic influ- 
 ence over the heart of woman ; that over mankind, 
 as in the instance of the emperor, appeared little 
 
160 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 less than oracular ; she could hardly then re- 
 proach, however she might pity Ludmilla, for the 
 infatuated passion which she still imagined was so 
 fervently returned. But what alarmed her most of 
 all, was, the passage respecting the evil agency 
 employed by the priest, for to him only could it 
 allude. Were she really the count's wife, he was 
 in a position to ascertain the fact ; and Madame 
 de Volkersdorf had, moreover, communicated to 
 him every circumstance she knew relating to her 
 daughter. The holy father, too, it was evident, 
 had his eye on the count's secret movements : she 
 was unable to penetrate their meaning, but the 
 very mystery in which they were involved, gave 
 them a more fearful aspect. 
 
 Her thoughts next turned to her cousin Sandor, 
 whose presence, in such an hour, would have af- 
 forded her both support and consolation. He, she 
 felt convinced, would not desert their cause in their 
 most desolate day of tribulation. Yes, she would 
 write to him ; he would not see her immured alive 
 in a convent, nor witness the bitter sacrifice of all 
 her fondest hopes and wishes. But, alas ! where 
 was he to be found ? and could she expect to hear 
 from, or to see him, ere the dreaded scene were 
 closed ? As a last resource, then, she would ad- 
 dress herself to her uncle at Presburg ; he would 
 hear from her in four-and-twenty hours. Yet she 
 trembled to confide the secrets of Zriny either to 
 Szlatinski or to M. de Ferronay, besides the danger 
 of entrusting such information to the public post. 
 What if, on the statement of these mere suspicions, 
 her brother were to be arrested ; how should she 
 answer such a breach of confidence, either to him 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 161 
 
 or her more unhappy sister ? While torn by these 
 conflicting feelings, the voice of Julia, who appear- 
 ed at the door, roused her from her fearful antici- 
 pations. 
 
 *' Heavens ! my love, what do you here ?" ex- 
 claimed her kind friend ; ** all absorbed in dark- 
 ness ! — yes, and in tears, I vow ! Quick, let us 
 have lights — here is a letter for you.'' 
 
 *' A letter!" exclaimed Catherine, in a tone of 
 terror ; — such had been the unhappy impression of 
 those she had just read. 
 
 ^' Yes, a letter," continued her friend ; *' is there 
 any thing so very terrible in that? The Polish 
 envoy has just given it to my husband, with the 
 request, that it may immediately be forwarded to 
 you, my dear." 
 
 *' And from Poland !" cried Catherine, fixing her 
 eyes on the address, and blushing deeply, as she 
 recognised the hand-writing. It was from Sandor 
 Szlatinski, and the very first she had ever received 
 from him. Julia cast a speaking glance at her 
 young friend. 
 
 ** Do you know that writing ?" she inquired. 
 
 ** It is my cousin's. Count Sandor Szlatinski." 
 
 *' Ha, ha !" exclaimed Julia, laughing, ** your 
 cousin is doubtless going to initiate you into the 
 secrets of modern diplomacy ; he has immense in- 
 fluence at the Polish court. He was extremely 
 urgent, I am told, that the letter should be put 
 into your own hands, because, you know, it was an 
 aflair of state. Come, come, my pretty one, do 
 not look so sweetly embarrassed ; I know all. You 
 are his little betrothed — at least in heart, I see; 
 and every one agrees he is worthy of the highest 
 
162 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 happiness he can attain. How you would have 
 delighted to hear all the fine things which the 
 ambassador said of him. Are they true?" 
 
 '' Oh ! yes. Sandor is so good, so loyal, so sen- 
 sible, so — " 
 
 *' So handsome, so brave, so amiable, so very 
 loving, so beloved," ran on the laughing Julia; 
 *^ all that is understood. What good quality can 
 the man one loves, and by whom we are adored, 
 ever want V 
 
 *' Now, Julia, you are quite mistaken," replied 
 Catherine ; '' am I not going into a convent ? Think 
 what a frightful misfortune, to love under such cir- 
 cumstances;" and the wretched girl burst into 
 tears. Julia threw her arms round her neck, and 
 in the tenderest accents tried to re-assure her. 
 
 ** Believe me," she said, *^ I know more of your 
 affairs than you imagine. All is not lost; you 
 have not yet taken the veil ; a gallant cavalier is 
 ready to die for you. He stands high in favour 
 with the royal Sobieski ; and you are well aware, 
 that the nod of that great man — his mere wish, are 
 now law. Courage, then, dear Catherine ; trust 
 your friends, and all will yet be well. Quick ! 
 read, and answer your terrible letter. Count Za- 
 linski will take charge of it, for he both loves and 
 esteems your absent cavalier." 
 
 Julia again embraced her young friend, who, 
 half confused, half enraptured, could only shed 
 tears of gratitude upon her bosom. She then en- 
 treated her to lose no time in writing to her cousin 
 Sandor, and withdrew. How delicious, how 
 strangely contrasted with those she had just indul- 
 ged, were now the feelings of Catherine ; she broke 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 163 
 
 the seal and hastily ran over the contents of her 
 letter. It told her all that had occurred since their 
 separation, and gave her renewed vows, and ex- 
 pressions of his attachment. He implored her to 
 adopt no decided step unfavourable to their future 
 happiness ; promised to be soon with her, and free 
 her from her threatened imprisonment. He doubt- 
 ed not of success, and by the same powerful influ- 
 ence, he could put in motion, to make her soon 
 his gentle and adored companion for life. 
 
 Absorbed in the most delightful sensations, Ca- 
 therine secretly vowed to give implicit obedience 
 to the directions of her noble-minded lover. She 
 sat down to assure him of it ; she gave him -a full 
 account of her present situation, and sought to 
 interest him in the misfortunes of her beloved sister. 
 While occupied in writing, she recovered much of 
 her usual calmness, and even gaiety of manner; then 
 hastened to the apartment of Madame de Preysing, 
 where Julia rallied and complimented her on the 
 expedition she had used in replying to her lover. — 
 Here let us leave her to enjoy her brief, but exstatic 
 dream of love, with hope beckoning before, and 
 friendship at her side ; while we turn to the dis- 
 astrous fortunes of her sister. Alas ! she was no 
 longer the happy being she had represented her- 
 self, absorbed in love, and giving life and joy to 
 the circle in which she moved. One year had 
 wrought a sad change in her destiny. She filled, 
 indeed, the same brilliant station ; she was the 
 charming, the irresistible Madame de Villecamp ; 
 she was adored by all the men of within Paris ; was 
 the ornament of society, and gave the tone to 
 fashion. But her peace of mind, the self- approving 
 M 2 
 
164 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 happiness once hers, were fled for ever. The ine- 
 briation of passion, also, which marked the spring- 
 tide of love, was gone. The romantic incidents 
 of her elopement, and her no less strange wander- 
 ings through Hungary and Germany, the novelty 
 of her singular position, with the sweet companion- 
 ship of a man so passionately attached as the 
 count had then been, had all united to keep her in 
 a whirl of enchantment, the interest of which was 
 passed away. 
 
 Zriny, to do him justice, had treated his lovely 
 victim with all the respect and devotion of a true 
 cavalier^ added to the gallantry of a French 
 courtier. He anticipated her slightest wishes, 
 and he would have felt as much shocked, as her- 
 self, at the idea of compromising their mutual 
 honour, and indulging their passion, ere it was con- 
 secrated by the rites of marriage. For the first 
 time, Zriny felt the full force of a virtuous passion ; 
 it was now his ardent desire to form an union for 
 life, with the charming Ludmilla. He respected 
 his future wife, in the virgin purity of her he loved ; 
 and he even tore himself from her side on reaching 
 Strasburg, to make known to his family the reso- 
 lution he had taken to make her his, and at the 
 same time to preserve the favour of the emperor. 
 He was well received at courts and under some 
 plausible plea, obtained permission to return imme- 
 diately into Hungary. He flew on the wings of love 
 to Munkats, to communicate to his sister and his 
 brother-in-law, his approaching marriage ; but the 
 almost royal splendour which distinguished this 
 house, the ambitious plans of Tokely, his sister 
 Helena^s pride> together with his own aspiring 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 165 
 
 nature, convinced him that it was no time to hazard 
 such an avowal ; that it would be more prudent to 
 delay it till the period when its announcement 
 would admit of no question as to the fact. 
 
 Meantime, Ludmilla, agreeably to his directions, 
 had reached Paris. The society and manners then 
 prevailing in the most cultivated and refined of 
 European cities, soon wrought a complete change 
 in the temperament and feelings, if not in the prin- 
 ciples, of a young recluse. She lost all that con- 
 straint, and appearance of prudery, which rural 
 retirement, and the air of a convent are apt to 
 produce ; these were replaced by a peculiar grace 
 and elegance, combined with a seductive charm 
 and animation of manners, which made her the 
 idol of the circles in which she moved. Her un- 
 derstanding, and her naturally fine qualities, were 
 now more fully developed and more highly culti- 
 vated. 
 
 When Count Zriny, after six months' absence, 
 hastened to rejoin her, he found her transformed, 
 as it were, into a new being. A delicate and grace- 
 ful air, soft as the breath of spring, seemed to float 
 around her ; a gentle, captivating ease of manner, 
 threw a charm over every gesture, word, and look ; 
 an intellectual refinement, which almost conveyed 
 the idea, *' that her body thought ;" while her finely 
 moulded form, more fully developed, and her strik- 
 ing and fascinating features, were farther relieved 
 by a chastely appropriate, yet rich costume. These, 
 combined with a look of dignity, which shone 
 through her more attractive graces, rendered the 
 impression of her beauty irresistible ; while the 
 animation of her conversation, and her manners, 
 
166 ' THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 was mingled with a tone of reflective and specula- 
 tive reasoning, which presented a contrast the most 
 piquant. There was an expression, too, of the 
 utmost sweetness in her lips, and smile ; and that 
 of her dark blue eyes, had at once a fire and 
 softness in it, which, contrasted with her black, 
 finely arched eye brows, gave something extremely 
 striking and commanding to her whole countenance. 
 Ludmilla, such as the count had left her at Stras- 
 bourg, would not so easily have succeeded in again 
 captivating the volatile and handsome traveller, as 
 the now brilliant Madame de Villecamp. During 
 their separation, Zriny had seen much to influence a 
 change in his opinions, by opening a new career for his 
 ambition, and tempering the ardour of his passion. 
 His eagerness to make her wholly his own, was no 
 longer the aim of his life ; but he now beheld her 
 with a thousand new attractions, which relumed the 
 ardour he had before felt for her. He again sighed to 
 lead her to the altar ; and he resolved to trample upon 
 every obstacle to the accomplishment of his wishes. 
 Ludmilla was cruelly disappointed, when made ac- 
 quainted with the wishes he had formed to keep 
 their intended union a profound secret. For a long 
 time she would not listen to it ; she imagined it was 
 merely intended to try the strength of her attach- 
 ment; for if real, she saw at once the extent to which 
 her reputation must sufier, and she made the most 
 earnest appeals, and even reproaches upon the sub- 
 ject. But the texture of his mind was of still 
 stronger materials ; and he maintained the abso- 
 lute necessity there was, however trying to his 
 feelings, for compliance with his wishes. He 
 would glory, he said, in proclaiming her his wife, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 167 
 
 before the highest and proudest in the empire, — 
 and that period would soon come ; but at the pre- 
 sent moment, his engagements with the emperor, 
 his country, his family, all imposed upon him the 
 painful duty of sacrificing both hers, and his own 
 wishes. 
 
 From whatever motive the count acted, he could 
 not, in thus frankly coming forward, be charged 
 with hypocrisy or deceit. His vanity, excited by 
 continued success, and the ambition of Tokely, 
 had led him to form other opinions, if not other 
 principles, whether erroneous or otherwise, which 
 led to the conclusion, that his family and himself 
 were specially called upon to deliver their country 
 from the Austrian yoke, — borne with indignation, — 
 and to restore her to the rank of an independent 
 nation, of which he would become the head. 
 
 Still his gratitude to the emperor gave rise to a 
 cruel conflict in his mind ; and it was only in cease- 
 less activity and travel that he could find some 
 respite from the anxiety it caused him. His highly 
 cultivated mind, and his powers of pleasing, made 
 his society courted by the most distinguished of 
 his contemporaries ; and the women were, in par- 
 ticular, attracted by his fine person, and engaging 
 manners. To Ludmilla alone was due the triumph 
 of having fixed one of the most volatile of men, 
 and she equally felt his power ; and from their first 
 meeting, that mutual passion took its origin, which 
 exerted so powerful an influence over their lives. 
 After many conflicts between a sense of love and 
 honour, she was induced to give her consent to a 
 secret union, without aspiring to make public her 
 title to be received as Countess de Zriny, At the 
 
168 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 same time, she insisted, most strenuously, on her 
 duty, of revealing it to her mother and sister in 
 perfect confidence ; for, injured and afflicted as 
 they felt, she conceived it to be part of the repara- 
 tion she owed them, to convince them that she had 
 not really dishonoured their good name. The 
 count was here compelled to yield ; and this it 
 was, which enabled her to support her equivocal 
 position with so much fortitude. She looked for- 
 ward to the joyous and triumphant moment, when 
 the veil of mystery would be torn aside ; when, 
 rising superior to the envy and calumnies of the 
 world, she should avow her rank, and partake in 
 all her consort's honours and success. 
 
THE 
 
 SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Count Zriny, proud of having carried his point, 
 made instant preparations for his marriage. Ex- 
 cepting its secresy, every thing was conducted in 
 the most formal and regular manner, authentic 
 proofs of its celebration being preserved. This 
 was the happiest period of Ludmilla's life ; she 
 was united to a man who adored her ; she lived 
 only for him, and it even gave a fresh zest to her 
 happiness, that they preserved the knowledge of it 
 exclusively for each other. Their brief separations 
 also, gave additional bliss to the hours in which 
 they met. But the count's spirit was not one that 
 could submit to restraint ; his manner betrayed 
 the excess of his passion for Madame de Ville- 
 
170 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 camp, his jealous care, and the rights of a sanc- 
 tioned lover. She lived in a style of splendid 
 gaiety ; the count's fortune, favoured as he was by 
 the emperor and his family, supplying every ele- 
 gance and luxury she could desire. Her soirees 
 were the most brilliant, and most frequented by rank, 
 science and wit, of any in Paris. The handsome 
 Hungarian lord, was, also, the theme of every 
 tongue; for if the small minority of women of 
 strict principle held aloof, there was no want of 
 wit and talent, where a Moli^re, Racine, Quinault, 
 Boileau, and others, made their favourite resort; — 
 no want of taste and fashion where the ever youth- 
 ful Ninon, and Montespan, and De la Valliere had 
 maintained their syren sway. The respect enter- 
 tained for the taste and understanding of woman, 
 and the pleasure derived from an equal and liberal 
 intellectual intercourse between the sexes, present- 
 ed something extremely novel and engaging to the 
 imagination ; — a school of true courtesy and man- 
 ners, in which mind was cultivated ; the art of 
 being animated and witty without pedantry ; gay 
 without licentiousness ; gallant without folly ; the 
 best of all that distinguished Parisian society at 
 that period, and gave to courtesy and good breed- 
 ing the weight of law. 
 
 With intelligence and spirit above her sex, 
 Ludmilla entered into all the views and projects 
 of her husband, evincing a sagacity, and a correct- 
 ness of judgment which astonished, and by giving 
 him a still higher opinion of her talent and genius, 
 created a new bond of attachment, which gave her 
 a firmer hold on his ambition than on his tenderness 
 and respect. He consulted her, with advantage, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 171 
 
 upon the situation of his country, her hopes of 
 independence, and even the severe conflict he 
 suffered between his attachment to the emperor 
 and his patriotic engagements. She was proud of 
 the confidence thus reposed in her ; and to be the 
 companion — the chosen wife of such a man, was 
 esteemed by her the very highest earthly happiness 
 that could be conferred upon her. It was the same 
 with regard to all other subjects, whether philoso- 
 phical or religious ; at a period, too, when the old 
 regime under Louis XIV. was already beginning to 
 feel the effects of the new system advocated by the 
 Esprits forts, whose bold and speculative writings 
 ushered in the new and terrific age of infidelity and 
 revolution. Count Zriny was no unapt disciple of 
 this school; he soon united in the views of its pro- 
 fessors to establish the sway of reason, upon the 
 ruins of established creeds and ancient usages. 
 
 It was long, however, before the pure, religious 
 mind of Ludmilla, impressed as it had been from 
 maternal precept, education, principle, and habit, — 
 by the great truths and hopes of revelation, — could 
 be induced to listen to the evil suggestions of her 
 husband. But love and ambition had prepared the 
 way ; and so blind and infatuated had she become, 
 by worldly appeals, and insidious compliments to 
 her genius and powers of reasoning, that ere long, 
 she began to vie with the most subtle and daring 
 partizans of the new philosophy. She shone, in- 
 deed, for a season ; but there would seem to be a 
 luminous point, beyond which neither fashion nor wit 
 will support their votaries ; that point she had 
 reached ; her star began to wane ; and the black 
 spot of cloud rose visibly in the distant horizon, — the 
 
172 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 herald of approaching storm and darkness. The 
 first symptom appeared in the restlessness and 
 anxiety of the count's manner, and his incessant 
 desire of occupation in affairs of moment. He had 
 arrived at Paris on a mission from the emperor, of 
 a difficult and confidential nature ; and this had fur- 
 nished him with a pretext of remaining there, near 
 her he loved, without exciting suspicion. He had, 
 indeed, purposely prolonged the negociation; but 
 he soon received orders for pressing the afiair, at a 
 moment when he was engaged in the most import- 
 ant of his intrigues, with regard to Hungary. The 
 decisive moment drew nigh ; he received secret 
 despatches from Tokely and other conspirators, 
 and an emissary was at length announced from 
 Constantinople. 
 
 The count, in short, found himself involved in a 
 labyrinth of mystery and peril of no ordinary kind. 
 The nearer the crisis, the more abstracted, the 
 more immersed in business did he become, so as 
 almost to deprive Ludmilla of his society. When 
 she gently reproached, he did not conceal that he 
 felt the greatest degree of interest in his public 
 career ; that man was born for action, and that he 
 should think himself highly culpable, if he neglect- 
 ed to exert all his faculties in the service of his 
 country, placed, as he was, by birth and character, 
 foremost in the eyes of that country, amidst the 
 most eventful changes, which called for the greatest 
 courage and prudence. 
 
 Ludmilla's enthusiasm sympathized in all the 
 count's views ; but she felt cruelly the deprivation 
 of his usual attentions and animated society. This 
 was little, however, to the severe trial which await- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 173 
 
 ed her, when Zriny, even at her own parties, dis- 
 played those varied powers of pleasing he possessed 
 in favour only of other women. His conversations, 
 with her, were now wholly confined to matters of 
 state, the new projects of Tokely, his relations 
 with the court of Vienna, and the discontents which 
 prevailed in Hungary. She became instantly aware 
 that he had ceased to love her, and that she could 
 in future only aspire to his friendship. Of the 
 value of this, she was fully sensible ; but it was not 
 enough for an impassioned being, who had sacri- 
 ficed every thing for him. She had too much 
 judgment to reproach him ; too much pride to show 
 how much she suffered ; and as she had consented 
 that their union should remain secret, she designed 
 herself to her lot. She hoped this appeal to his 
 generosity would be felt, and thus by exciting his 
 esteem, in some degree win back his love. Indeed, 
 she was not wholly disappointed ; the count felt the 
 extreme delicacy of her conduct, and some shadow 
 of his former ardour seemed to re-appear. It was, 
 however, only the illusion of the moment ; business 
 and pleasure soon resumed their wonted empire, till 
 at length indifference was followed by estrange- 
 ment, and the unhappy wife could only weep in 
 secret. 
 
 With love and happiness disappeared, also, the 
 vivacity and vigour of character which had hitherto 
 sustained her. She grew silent and reserved ; her 
 health, and even her beauty participated in the 
 change; the paleness of her cheek, and her tear- 
 dimmed eye, gave mournful witness how deeply 
 she felt the loss of a husband's love. The count 
 saw it, and his conscience told him the cause ; 
 
174 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 but lie only accused his evil star, which condemned 
 him to plunge into the midst of intrigues and dan- 
 gers, which destroyed the happiness of all con- 
 nected with him. He even confessed as much ; 
 and with a worn heart, and broken spirit, she had 
 yet sufficient resolution to adopt a course which 
 should put an end to the cruel anxieties of her 
 consort. 
 
 One day, when more absorbed than usual, his 
 head resting upon his hand, and occasionally ut- 
 tering deep sighs, she began the subject by in- 
 quiring, if he had not received any letters that 
 day? 
 
 ** I expected some from my brother Emmerich, 
 at Munkats ; and I am uneasy ; they relate to 
 important business.'' 
 
 ^* Tokely, then," replied his wife, '' has resolved 
 on throwing himself on the protection of Turkey?" 
 
 " It is the only resource he has left ; he has 
 gone too far, and his designs are too clearly seen 
 through, to leave room for retreat. A war be- 
 tween the emperor and our country is unavoid- 
 able." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Ludmilla ; '' and you join 
 in it? you oppose the emperor, who loves you, like 
 a son ? to whom he gives all his confidence !" 
 
 *^ There is the bitter sting ! it is that which tor- 
 tures, — which like a curse pursues me. I was born 
 to make every one miserable, who has the least af- 
 fection for me." 
 
 *' Leopold, however, cannot yet complain of 
 you. You have transacted his affairs with perfect 
 fidelity." 
 
 " But with what intent ?" inquired the count ; 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 175 
 
 ^' how long will it continue. The Grand Vizier is 
 assembling his army ; and decisive events are at 
 hand/' 
 
 ** And you here, count ! — gloomy, irresolute, and 
 inactive !'' 
 
 Zriny cast a glance of astonishment at his lady ; 
 he had not been prepared for such a question : 
 ** What mean you, Ludmilla ? — to what can you 
 allude V* he inquired carelessly. 
 
 *' I mean," she continued, " that if you were 
 on the scene of action, — if you were witness to 
 the progress of events, and could participate in 
 them — " 
 
 ^' Can I ?" exclaimed Zriny, starting with min- 
 gled impatience and vexation ; ^* does not duty 
 bind me here — fixed to the spot?'' 
 
 '* To the emperor, no doubt ; but that is fast 
 drawing to a close. You can end it, as it was 
 your own proposing, and set out when you 
 please." 
 
 *' What would come of it all ? — what should I 
 gain by it ?" 
 
 ^' You would be free, Zriny," replied his noble 
 wife — '^ free to go wheresover ambition and your 
 destiny may call. Mere diplomatic trifles are 
 here absorbing all your valuable time : — hasten 
 into Hungary, and resume your wonted activity." 
 
 *^ Into Hungary I" he repeated, in a tone of the 
 utmost surprise. The fatal word had passed her 
 lips : she, who loved so tenderly, so passionately, 
 had pronounced a decree of banishment against all 
 which bound her most fondly to life. 
 
 ** I said Hungary," continued Ludmilla, with as 
 much calmness as she could command ; ** your 
 
176 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 presence is wanted ; you can there pursue the 
 career marked out for you. Tokely is about to 
 reap the fruit of all his exertions ; the Grand Signor 
 will make him Prince of Hungary, and hoist the 
 standard of national freedom. You have done 
 much for him ; and more remains yet to be done 
 in Hungary ; the commander of the Ottomans now 
 eagerly expects it — you know it." 
 
 *^ I have no ambition to pay my respects to a 
 barbarian." 
 
 '^ I believe it — I am glad of it," replied Lud- 
 milla, with unaffected dignity. " It is not that ; 
 but for the interests of your family — for the 
 elevation of your house. You must make use of 
 him as the necessary instrument of your ambition, 
 whatever may be your opinion of him as a bar- 
 barian." 
 
 " I understand you, my Ludmilla ; I do justice 
 to your greatness of mind ; yet how — you wish 
 me to go — that I cannot comprehend — " 
 
 '' I only advise you, dear count, to do what 
 your own genius dictates." 
 
 Zriny bent down his head without making any 
 reply, for his conscience smote him. Her gene- 
 rosity, her devotedness, her last proof of it, were a 
 tacit reproach he could ill bear. His wife, too, 
 was silent, and sighed deeply ; for she had just 
 made a sacrifice that cost her very dear. Still 
 she felt a just pride in having thus triumphed over 
 her heart, after the severe conflicts it had lately 
 endured. 
 
 '' We must think of all this," said the count, 
 much moved ; at the same time rising and ten- 
 derly embracing the gratified Ludmilla. The ice 
 
THE SIEGE OP VIENNA. 177 
 
 was now broken ; and the decisive step once taken, 
 she thought she should suffer less than before. 
 The count, on his part, had too much delicacy 
 of sentiment, as well as too much sagacity, not to 
 be aware he stood in a less dignified position than 
 his wife. He felt humbled ; he knew how much 
 he had sacrificed, and the manner in which he had 
 repaid all her tenderness and care. Still he bore 
 too good an opinion in his own eyes, not to justify 
 his conduct ; while the calmness of her manner, in 
 leaving him free to pursue his ambitious projects, 
 inspired him with the idea that she no longer loved 
 him. In this belief he tried to impose upon his 
 better judgment, and, by one false step, he thus 
 involved himself in a labyrinth of error. Too proud 
 to reproach her for withdrawing her affections, he 
 entered into no explanation ; he resumed his pub- 
 lic engagements with redoubled activity, and soon 
 acquainted her with his resolution to adopt the 
 excellent advice she had given him. Ludmilla 
 preserved the same impenetrable calmness and 
 dignity of manner ; but it was the calmness of a 
 broken spirit ; and she saw him take his departure 
 for Vienna, at the close of the carnival, with a de- 
 solation of feeling that whispered she would never 
 see him more. He, too, was deeply affected ; but 
 he did not conceal it, for he was preparing to throw 
 himself upon a stormy current of events, the perils 
 of which he well knew by the fate of his father. 
 He was preparing also to proclaim himself a traitor 
 to the most confiding of monarchs, — to the best 
 of benefactors ; to abandon her, whom he had se- 
 duced from the bosom of a fond and attached fa- 
 mily, to the care of strangers in a foreign soil. 
 
 N 
 
178 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 He took his leave, therefore, with feelings of real 
 sorrow, and which left with him ^ strange pre- 
 sentiment of some fearful calamity which would, 
 ere long, overtake him. 
 
 The count was fully aware that he should meet 
 his sister-in-law at Vienna ; and he was the bearer 
 of many sad and heart-boding assurances of affec- 
 tion from his unhappy wife, for the gentle and 
 lonely Catherine. No sooner was he out of sight, 
 than the wretched Ludmilla gave vent to her long- 
 represt agony in a passion of tears, — for she also 
 indulged a strange misgiving of some evil at hand ; 
 while the tenderness and sorrow he had expressed 
 on his departure, gave added poignancy to the 
 sacrifice she had made, and re-awakened all the 
 passionate agitation of her first love. 
 
 On his arrival in the capital, the count was in 
 no haste to discover the gentle Catherine ; for how 
 should he explain his conduct, the motives of his 
 journey, andvthe objects he had in view. He had, 
 besides, enough to occupy his attention at court. 
 The public entertainments given to the Polish envoy, 
 offered a fine field, in which to show his peculiar 
 accomplishments and address, and thus disguise 
 the nature of his political proceedings. With the 
 same view, he affected to aspire to the hand of the 
 wealthy Countess of C ; and this, he con- 
 ceived, would silence the reports, already spread 
 abroad, concerning his real marriage ; not that for 
 a moment he harboured the idea of abandoning his 
 wife, but it was his policy to stand in the most 
 commanding position he could assume in the eyes 
 of his family. His sister Helena, whose wealth 
 had been an inexhaustible source to promote his 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 179 
 
 views, had long indulged the wish of beholding his 
 union with the daughter of a reigning prince in 
 the immediate vicinity ; and all that seemed want- 
 ing was the count's own consent. 
 
 On the evening of meeting Catherine at the 
 theatre, it was his object, if possible, to avoid 
 every appearance of countenancing the public ru- 
 mour ; and he accordingly studiously forbore to 
 accost her, though he had resolved to see her in 
 private. He had just received a letter from his 
 brother-in-law, Tokely, which urged him to set 
 out for Munkats with the least possible delay ; 
 and he had simply time to hold a brief interview 
 with Catherine in the church. Under some plau- 
 sible pretext, he obtained permission from the em- 
 peror to proceed to Prague ; for it was his policy 
 to reach the boundaries of Transylvania, and the 
 fortress of Munkats, as soon as he could. It re- 
 quired the utmost caution to screen his movements, 
 for he had latterly perceived that all his actions 
 had been watched with prying care. He felt as 
 if he were in the toils, surrounded by invisible 
 spies, and by false friends, ready, at the given 
 signal, to betray him. He travelled, therefore, to 
 Munkats with incredible speed, determined to carry 
 the grand project of his country's independence, 
 at every hazard, into immediate effect. 
 
 Meantime, Catherine had been again exposed 
 to the dreaded persecution of father Isidor, who 
 insisted, under pain of inflicting her mother's curse 
 upon a disobedient child, on having admittance to 
 her whenever he pleased. He announced, with 
 an air of satisfaction, that he had spoken with the 
 lady abbess, who had stated that every thing would 
 N 2 
 
180 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 be arranged for her taking the veil in the lapse of 
 a very few weeks. These tidings acted as a severe 
 shock upon Catherine ; but she had now, by dint 
 of reflection and knowledge of the world, acquired 
 greater command over her feelings, and sought to 
 conceal her sense of the power exercised by the 
 priest over her thoughts and feelings. She merely 
 aimed at delaying the evil hour, raising objections 
 from the peculiar state of public affairs ; and con- 
 fiding in events, and to a secret determination of 
 opposing all her energy, at the last stage of such a 
 misfortune, to snatch herself from so hated a lot. 
 Father Isidor, however, had greater penetration, 
 and more means at his command than his intended 
 victim. He combated all her reasoning, and, with 
 admirable sophistry, converted it even into argu- 
 ments against herself. He declared that the ap- 
 proaching crisis formed one of the very strongest 
 inducements why she should seek an instant asy- 
 lum from worldly dangers, by devoting herself to 
 the service of Heaven. He entreated her to be 
 convinced that no human power could interfere 
 with the execution of her mother's design ; that it 
 had been ordained on high ; that she had no re- 
 source but meekly to submit ; and that neither her 
 once- betrothed cousin, nor any of the friends who 
 surrounded her, could place any obstacle to the 
 speedy consummation of her mother's and his own 
 wishes. With the same calm and resolute air, he 
 at length prepared to take his leave, declaring that 
 he was constrained to set out instantly from Vi- 
 enna ; but that on his return, he would not delay 
 to pay her a fatherly visit in her convent. He also 
 expressed his regret that he should be unable to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 181 
 
 be present at the holy ceremony ; on which Cathe- 
 rine entreated that he would give himself no un- 
 easiness on that point, as she would gladly, with 
 his consent, defer the hour of taking the veil until 
 his return. 
 
 '' That is impossible,'' replied the priest, in a de- 
 cided tone ; " there must be no question of it ; not 
 a moment is to be lost ; each hour is fraught with 
 your eternal weal or woe ; and, ere long, you 
 will have cause to bless me for this decision, when, 
 within the sacred walls, you hear the tempest of war 
 raging from without — a fearful war, of which the 
 sullen and not distant murmurs fall on mine ear, 
 and its gathering clouds darken all the sky/' 
 
 ** Oh, heavens !" cried Catherine; ** is there any 
 thing new — more terrible ?" 
 
 ^ ** Yes ; what I predicted to your mother, months 
 ago, will soon be fulfilled. The hour is at hand, 
 when your proud brother-in-law (how you should 
 feel humbled at his being such), will proclaim his 
 treason at the head of rebels and traitors." 
 
 *' Gracious God !" exclaimed Catherine, " do you 
 think it possible ?" 
 
 >* It is beyond a doubt," continued the father; 
 ** but you cannot, or rather will not, comprehend 
 what I say ; you will soon hear, however, of strange 
 events, when I shall have the consolation of re- 
 flecting, that you are placed beyond their sinister 
 influence.'* The last words he pronounced in a 
 milder tone, and recommendingher todo all, to merit 
 the blessing of God, which he then gave her, left 
 her in a state of grief and agitation, which she no 
 longer sought to repress. 
 
 Nor were the warnings of the priest without 
 
182 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 foundation ; the most alarming rumours, like the 
 precursors of some great public calamity, disturbed 
 the mind and the imagination of all ranks. The 
 lady of Dunerwald, daily heard something which 
 showed the imminency of the crisis at hand. The 
 last hope of conciliating the existing differences 
 between Austria and the Sublime Porte, had dis- 
 appeared ; the alliance between Poland and the 
 emperor, had exasperated the sultan, without dis- 
 maying him ; and his warlike preparations were 
 pressed with redoubled activity. The grand vizier 
 was at Adrianople, assembling an army exceeding 
 half a million, and of which the courage and 
 ferocity were loudly bruited, as too overwhelming 
 for the forces of Austria and Germany successfully 
 to oppose. The brief interval of its marching, and 
 that of its arrival under the walls of Vienna, had 
 been calculated with well-founded cause of appre-<> 
 hension and terror. 
 
 The discontents in Hungary, the boldness of 
 Tokely's preparations, and the suspicious conduct 
 of Count Zriny, added greatly to the extent of the 
 danger, while the resolution of the insurgent? 
 showed the doubt and indecision of the imperial 
 government. 
 
 These fearful tidings soon reached the ear of 
 Catherine, giving fresh poignancy to her otheu 
 sorrows, while they convinced her of the truth of 
 all the holy father had advanced, and gave her a 
 high idea of his political sagacity and knowledge of 
 the enemy's designs. 
 
 Meantime, the spring approached ; the Ottoman 
 troops were preparing to advance, and all accounts 
 agreed in stating, that he limited his ambition to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 183 
 
 nothing less than the destruction of the capital 
 itself. At this moment an ordinance from the 
 emperor, to repair and strengthen the whole forti- 
 fications of the city, which still retained marks of 
 the siege in 1529, by the Sultan Solyman, excited 
 general consternation. The entire peasantry, for a 
 wide circuit round the capital, were summoned to 
 assist; magazines were established, and the national 
 forces of every class, placed on the highest footing, 
 so as to indicate the approach of extreme danger. 
 Such was the public alarm, that all common indivi- 
 dual interest, seemed to be lost sight of; prepara- 
 tions for Catherine assuming the veil, were forgotten 
 in the march of events, which shook the monarchy 
 to its foundations, and threatened the existence of 
 Christianity in Europe. 
 
 Catherine, thus relieved from the terror of a con- 
 vent, was a prey to apprehensions scarcely less 
 terrible. Without any defined idea of the real 
 horrors of a siege, she had yet heard enough at 
 Madame Preysing's, to comprehend that it brought 
 in its train a series of strange calamities. These 
 were now on the eve of being felt; and fearful as 
 they were, suspense and apprehension dilated their 
 gigantic forms to an indefinite extent. The most 
 incredible things were repeated for truth ; and each 
 citizen took measures for his own safety, according 
 to the prevailing rumour of the hour. Numbers 
 fled from the open country into the towns, others 
 sought an asylum in the mountains, or the deepest 
 valleys: that horrible confusion, caused by terror, 
 was every where apparent, and there were few 
 exempted from its baneful sway. Madame de 
 Preysing was one ; her confidence in God, her ex- 
 
184 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 perience and firmness, enabled her not only to 
 support herself, but to assist her friends and con- 
 nections, by her judicious advice. She at once 
 showed the absurdity and frequent contradiction of ^ 
 those popular reports, which produced so much i 
 alarm and mischief in the city. Her mansion was j 
 the resort of all who were in doubt, in what way to t 
 act, — whether to remain in the city, or to withdraw 
 in haste to some far retreat. 
 
 '' What !'' she would exclaim with noble dignity, 
 *^ do you think, that, once masters of Vienna, the 
 Turks will not reach you, and be masters every 
 where? Your sole hope is to conquer; and not to fly. 
 Has not an Arabian necromancer predicted, that 
 the grand vizier would penetrate even to the capital 
 of Christianity itself; and is not that the great ob- 
 ject of the Ottoman chief? If, therefore, the united 
 forces of the empire, with the aid of the gallant 
 Poles, succeed not in checking his fierce career, 
 where can we promise ourselves safety, with more 
 reason than within these walls ?" 
 
 '' What a dreadful prophecy !'* exclaimed all 
 those who heard it, seizing on the idea, instead of 
 being impressed with the advice she had given them. 
 
 ** No prophecy at all !" replied Madame de % 
 Preysing, ^* unless you believe in the religion of the w 
 infidels ; — that God will abandon us, and that we - 
 fight not under the standard of our divine faith. 
 Heaven hath already preserved the house of Austria 
 from great perils, even when all human efforts 
 appeared to be vain. It is not the first time Vienna 
 has sustained a siege : the famous Solyman, who 
 made the Christian world tremble at his name, 
 left the flower of his mighty armies, sacrificed be- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 185 
 
 neath its walls. Why then are we to despair? 
 When the emperor Ferdinand was besieged in his 
 palace by the rebels of Bohemia, and when just on 
 the point of subscribing to their demands, came not 
 Dampierre's regiment at the precise moment ? Has 
 not God almost miraculously granted his protec- 
 tion in far more critical times ?" 
 
 '* But perhaps," interrupted one of the ladies, 
 ** the period for our punishment has now arrived ; 
 who knows if Heaven will deign to help us more ?" 
 
 " In that case, we are in his hands," replied the 
 undaunted woman ; *' besides, I rely also on human 
 assistance, directed by his wisdom ; for we know 
 the immense amount of the imperial armies ; the 
 formidable preparations of the Polish king ; those 
 of the electors of Saxony and Bavaria, headed by 
 the valiant Duke of Lorraine, one of the greatest 
 warriors of his age. I value at little, the presumed 
 superiority of the Turks, and I am determined to 
 remain where I am.** 
 
 It was in vain, however, she sought to infuse the 
 same courage and confidence she herself felt, into 
 weak and frivolous minds. At the first untoward 
 report, they fell into the same anxiety and despair, 
 with the exception of Catherine, who was worthy, 
 in every way, of her high-minded friend, and ap- 
 preciated all the excellences of her character. 
 
 Meantime, the activity and the severity, which 
 characterized the public measures of defence, in no 
 way served to allay the general excitement. Count 
 Stahremberg was appointed commander of the city, 
 and he was indefatigable in his duties, visiting 
 every point of defence. He allowed nothing to 
 deter him, and even commanded such of the build- 
 
186 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ings as interfered with his plans, to be instantly 
 razed to the ground. The unhappy owners were 
 seen traversing the streets, and uttering cries of 
 despair. Others were surrounding his mansion, 
 beseeching him to countermand his orders, and at 
 least, to spare the dwellings which afforded an asy- 
 lum for themselves and their children. The count 
 lamented the necessity he was under, promised in- 
 demnity, but failed not to persevere in his public 
 duty. While thus engaged, Emmerich Tokely was 
 little less active on his side, in favour of his ally, 
 the sultan. He arrived at Buda, with his beautiful 
 consort, Helena, and a princely retinue. It was very 
 generally rumoured, that he would be proclaimed 
 king of Hungary, under the protection of the Porte, 
 on the fall of Presburg and Vienna; in return for 
 which Tokely had promised to attend the grand 
 vizier in his expedition, to make himself master of 
 the Roman capital. With these proceedings, the 
 name of his brother, Count Zriny, was invariably 
 associated; and it was even added, that he had 
 suggested the idea of Tokely mounting the throne 
 of Hungary: with this, it was supposed, was con- 
 nected his frequent journeys to Paris, to Munkats, 
 and even to Constantinople ; and that he entertained 
 the idea of succeeding his brother-in-law, already far 
 advanced in life, as king of the Hungarians. More- 
 over, it was asserted, that he aspired to the hand of 
 the daughter of the Hospodar of Wallachia, counting 
 upon the support of that prince. Catherine was ex- 
 ceedingly distressed by accounts like these. She 
 did not, indeed, believe Zriny capable of so dark a 
 crime, as that of giving his hand to another, while 
 her sister lived ; but she was fearful, lest the strange 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 187 
 
 disinterestedness and generosity of Ludmilla's 
 character, might lead her to sacrihce her happiness 
 and honour, to the ambitious views of one for whom 
 she had already forfeited her reputation, the so- 
 ciety of her family, and her religious destination. 
 She knew the extent of Zriny's influence, and the 
 strange fascination of his manners. While absorbed 
 in these gloomy anticipations, in regard to the fate 
 of her sister, Catherine had still the consolation of 
 receiving accounts from her cousin, Sandor, with 
 assurances of his unaltered esteem and attachment. 
 They gave her, also, a perfect view of the state of 
 public affairs, the warlike preparations of his sove- 
 reign, King Sobieski, and the secret correspondence 
 of him, whose character she was just considering, 
 and which daily excited fresh public attention. It 
 seemed as if the emperor alone refused to believe 
 him unworthy of his confidence. He had a sincere 
 regard for him; and Zriny, spite of his ambitious 
 projects, felt towards his sovereign, the warmest 
 gratitude; loaded, as he had been, with favours, 
 although the son of a traitor. He had been re- 
 stored to his hereditary rank and property; he en- 
 joyed the personal affection of his master, — at once 
 gratifying to his pride and to his best feelings. 
 Hence arose the continual struggle he maintained 
 between his ambition and his loyalty to the most 
 generous of masters, and which kept his mind in a 
 state of continual unhappiness and excitement. 
 Vainly had Zriny's enemies sought to prepossess 
 the monarch against his favourite ; he delighted in 
 his company and conversation, renewing, as it 
 were, the idea of his own youth, while listening to 
 the strange incidents of his life and his travels. 
 
188 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 He attributed all their attacks to envy, and even 
 the representations of his most confidential ad- 
 visers, were treated with ridicule or neglect. One 
 of Zriny's most determined adversaries was Count 
 Stahremberg, whose austerity and correctness of 
 feeling was scandalized by the levity with which 
 the young statesman treated the most serious affairs. 
 Animated, also, as Stahremberg and his whole 
 family had ever been, by sentiments of loyalty and 
 devotion to the House of Austria, he was strongly 
 impressed with the extent of the perils which sur- 
 rounded Leopold, and regretted to see him repose 
 such unlimited confidence in the son of the traitor 
 Zriny the friend of Tokely, — and the brother of 
 Tokely. 
 
 At this period, a messenger arrived with tidings 
 from Hungary. The emperor was engaged inspect- 
 ing the labours of the governor for the defence of 
 the city, attended by him and General Rabatta, 
 commissary of the army, and the pious and equally 
 undaunted bishop Collonitz. They were delibe- 
 rating on the details to be observed in the ap- 
 proaching siege, and the best plans for obviating 
 the defects too observable both in the garrison and 
 the armies. Stahremberg required the demolition 
 of several houses situated upon the ramparts, and 
 which stood in the way of his proposed works. The 
 emperor, however, swayed by his respect for pri- 
 vate property, appeared unwilling to consent. 
 
 '* It IS a severe measure, I admit," said the com- 
 mander ; ** but it is indispensable.'' 
 
 ** Gently, my dear Stahremberg," replied the 
 emperor, *' the danger is not so very pressing, and 
 only absolute necessity can authorize such an act. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 189 
 
 I cannot consent to inflict so much suffering upon 
 my unhappy subjects." 
 
 *' I fear," returned Stahreraberg, 'Mest, very 
 soon, it may be too late." 
 
 *' And that, occupied with other affairs," conti- 
 nued Rabatta, ** there may no longer be any 
 time." 
 
 *^ No, no," replied the emperor, *' it will always 
 be time enough to proceed to these extremities, 
 when we hear of the Turks at Presburg." 
 
 *' Your majesty is always too good, too indul- 
 gent," said Stahremberg. 
 
 *« What say you !" returned Leopold : *^ it is a 
 matter of simple justice. I say I will not oppress 
 my subjects ; let us talk of something else." 
 
 Stahremberg bit his lips, and uttered not a word 
 more. 
 
 *' It is indeed, to be regretted," observed the 
 worthy bishop, *' that such harsh measures are ne- 
 cessary ; but, permit your ancient servant, sire, to 
 say, that many threatening circumstances which 
 now surround us, might have been prevented, had 
 a just severity been earlier employed. For instance, 
 in regard to that firebrand of war — Tokely — what 
 indulgence has been shown him !" 
 
 ** Because he has had so good an advocate," in- 
 terrupted Stahremberg, ** with his majesty ; it is 
 no way astonishing, when his brother-in-law enjoys 
 the favour of the highest authority in the land." 
 
 " What you have said, is bold indeed," ex- 
 claimed the bishop ; ** but it is no less true. 
 Too long, sire, have your most zealous and faith- 
 ful servants witnessed, in silence, the extent of a 
 confidence so dangerous." 
 
190 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 The emperor's cheek, though in general very 
 pale, was now slightly flushed ; and, turning to- 
 wards the bishop, he said in a tone of reproach — 
 *' and you, too, Collonitz V 
 
 *M am a servant of the church, sire, and, con- 
 sequently, a minister of peace. It is my sacred 
 duty, nevertheless, as a citizen, to intreat your 
 majesty to banish from your august presence the 
 Count Zriny, — to close, for ever, your ear to his 
 perfidious insinuations." 
 
 ^* And who told you,'' retorted the emperor, 
 quickly, *nhat I gave ear to anyone's insinua- 
 tions ? — God be praised ! we have still the use of 
 our faculties, so far as to walk with our eyes open, 
 listen to good counsel, and to act on our own aun 
 thority." 
 
 ^' Grant me pardon, sire," said Collonitz, with 
 profound humility; **if zeal for your sacred person, 
 and my country, hath drawn from my lips any 
 unbecoming expression, it was my wish to explain 
 that Count Zriny boasts the entire confidence of 
 your majesty, without, perhaps, deserving it." 
 
 *' Zriny .owes all he has in the world to my fa- 
 vour," interrupted his majesty; *' I took him from 
 the scaflTold, where his father had justly suffered ; 
 I restored him to life, rank, and honour; he is my 
 creature. How, then, can I think ill enough of 
 human nature, to believe that this young man will 
 prove ungrateful, much less a traitor, such as you 
 would insinuate." 
 
 '^ Far be it from me," replied the bishop ; '' the 
 crime of treason is of so black a dye, that we should 
 deal with it only by proofs; we, therefore, impute 
 it not to the count. But every one who hath your 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 191 
 
 majesty's honour at heart, cannot see, without 
 concern, the member of a suspected family near 
 your royal person in moments so critical." 
 
 ** And one," observed Stahremberg, *' who gives 
 us so much reason for suspicion, no less on account 
 of his family connections than his secret proceed- 
 ings. For instance, when he requested permission 
 from your majesty to go to Prague, under pretence 
 of attending to his private affairs, he is known to 
 have proceeded direct to Munkats, and even to 
 the camp of the grand vizier. Thence he will de- 
 part for Constantinople, as I am well informed, and 
 I can give your majesty my written authority on 
 this point." 
 
 Leopold made no reply ; his countenance assumed 
 a darker and more severe expression ; and, appre- 
 hensive they had gone too far, his ministers said no 
 more. 
 
 ** Speak out ! say what you please," resumed 
 the emperor; ** but you cannot shake my confi- 
 dence in this young man. — Let him go to Munkats, 
 or to Constantinople, I shall regard him in the 
 same light, till I receive actual proofs." As he 
 said this, voices were heard in a loud tone, in the 
 ante-chamber ; the master of the ceremonies ap- 
 peared at the door of the cabinet, and begging 
 pardon for interrupting the conference, announced 
 the arrival of Count Zriny, who claimed his privi- 
 lege as Lord Chamberlain, to have instant access 
 to his majesty. Leopold fixed a stern eye upon 
 Stahremberg, who stood in an attitude of unfeigned 
 astonishment, on learning so unanswerable a refu- 
 tation of all that he had just asserted. 
 
 ** Let Count Zriny wait the close of the confer- 
 
192 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ence," replied the emperor ; ** but not leave the 
 ante-chamber/' 
 
 Without further allusion to the subject, the em- 
 peror then resumed the discussions of the council, 
 which he despatched with a more calm and cheer- 
 ful air. He was, indeed, highly pleased with the 
 vindication thus brought about by his favourite in 
 person, and hastened to dismiss his ministers, that 
 he might welcome the arrival of his young friend. 
 He himself opened the adjoining door, and the 
 count, with expressions of the liveliest emotion, 
 threw himself at the monarch's feet. Affected with 
 these marks of respect and attachment, the empe- 
 ror, with an air of perfect confidence and regard, 
 raised him up, observing : ^' Calm yourself, my 
 young friend ; rise and let us converse, for I am 
 really glad to see you." 
 
 '' My noble, my gracious sovereign !" exclaimed 
 Zriny, as he tried to rise, but actually trembling 
 with the violence of his feelings. 
 
 *^ What is the matter, Zriny ? you seem agitated : 
 — whence come you now ?" inquired the emperor, 
 recalling to mind his conversation with Count 
 Stahremberg. 
 
 *' I am only this moment arrived; — I have not 
 even had time to dress — I have traversed two 
 hundred leagues in three days, — I have posted 
 night and day." 
 
 ** How ! came you not from Prague ?" asked the 
 monarch in a sterner tone. He was evidently 
 both startled and displeased. 
 
 *' I come now from Adrianople, sire ; I have seen 
 the grand vizier." 
 
 '* The — what — grand vizier !" stammered out 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 193 
 
 the emperor, in a voice of painful surprise ; fixing 
 his eye at the same time on those of the count. 
 
 *' Pardon, sire, if I have been too rash; if, on 
 my own suggestion, I adopted such a measure 
 without your majesty *s concurrence ; but the ex- 
 treme urgency of the occasion, and my solicitude 
 for your service, must plead in my behalf," Here 
 his voice faltered, his face grew deadly pale, and 
 he pressed his forehead with one hand ; while with 
 the other he supported himself against the back of 
 a chair. 
 
 *' You are ill !" cried the emperor, in a voice of 
 alarm; "sit down, I entreat you;" at the same 
 time he rung the bell with violence. ** Bring some 
 water, and cordials, on the instant," he cried to 
 the page in waiting. He then ordered the count's 
 neck-kerchief to be loosened, to prevent him, if 
 possible, from falling into a swoon. By these 
 means he was soon restored, and, raising his eyes, 
 thanked his royal master, with a look of grati- 
 tude he could not mistake. Still his agitation 
 continued, even greater than before. He tried in 
 vain to conceal it. 
 
 " What can have happened to you, my friend ?" 
 inquired the emperor, when tjie pages had retired ; 
 '* or are you really so ill V 
 
 " No, no, my too excellent and indulgent master ; 
 the fatigue of so quick a journey, with the im- 
 portance of all I have to reveal to your majesty ; 
 — this it is which has so strangely affected me." 
 
 ** Well, then, speak out — what have you been 
 doing with the grand vizier ? — what induced you 
 to visit his camp ?" 
 
 " It was my own act, sire. Having despatched 
 o 
 
194 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 my own affairs at Prague, I received a letter from 
 my sister, which caused me to hasten to Munkats/' 
 — The emperor's brow grew clouded, and Zriny 
 paused. 
 
 " Go on," said the emperor, somewhat drily. 
 " My sister Helena, sire, was g(|j|ij:ous of seeing 
 me, before the war broke out. -r complied with 
 her wishes ; she is my only sister ; and I was about 
 to take leave of her — perhaps for ever." Zriny 
 paused ; his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 " Come, to the point !" exclaimed the emperor, 
 half angry, half affected. 
 
 *' It was then," resumed the count, with more 
 firmness, ^' I began to reflect upon the horrors of 
 a war which threatens to devastate Hungary, my 
 country ; to plunge her in civil war, whether the 
 Porte succeed or riot." 
 
 *' What say you!" exclaimed the emperor, in 
 a severer tone; *' know you not the guilt of in- 
 dulging any hope of advantage, on the part of our 
 enemies ?" 
 
 ^^ Yes, sire, I know the duty of a subject; I 
 know that my fortunes, my rank, my very exist- 
 ence, depend upon your majesty: L am deeply 
 sensible of all my obligations ; but, sire, Hungary, 
 Transylvania, are become estranged from your 
 majesty's allegiance ; for the injustice and oppres- 
 sion every where inflicted, in your majesty's name, 
 are never permitted to reach your royal ear." 
 
 *' What mean you ?" asked the emperor, in an 
 angry tone. 
 
 Count Zriny again threw himself at his master's 
 feet. Here he depicted, with warm emotion, the 
 sufferings of his country ; the corruption and the 
 cruelty of the imperial agents; and the dangerous 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNii. 195 
 
 state of affairs ; that, in short, rather than submit to 
 such oppression, the whole nation was determined 
 to throw itself upon the protection of the Porte. 
 
 '* Upon the protection of infidels ; — the sworn 
 enemies of Christianity, and of my house I Can you 
 mean that ? " 
 
 ^' Sire ! despair alone, can drive a nation to 
 such bitter extremity, or expect pardon from the 
 magnanimity of a sovereign^ esteemed the father 
 of his people." 
 
 *^Then you went to Adrianople, I presume, to 
 solicit the countenance of the Porte.*' 
 
 Count Zriny raised his eyes, and fixing them 
 on the emperor, said in a firmer voice : ** Yes, 
 sire, that was, in part, the object of my journey." 
 
 **It was! ! — you declare it; — you dare me to 
 my very face;" cried the emperor, turning angrily 
 away. 
 
 *^ Your majesty will not condemn me, till you 
 have heard me ; your royal displeasure would be 
 more than I could support." 
 
 ^' Well, speak on," observed the emperor, a 
 little conciliated ; '' speak on, but rise ! " 
 
 *' Never, sire, until your royal anger be ap- 
 peased. It was, I admit, one of the objects of my 
 journey ; but it was mainly to sound the intentions 
 of the vizier. I was eager to learn what was 
 passing in the Ottoman camp ; to convince myself, 
 with my own eyes, and to bring your majesty a 
 faithful report, as well in regard to the assistance 
 expected by the Hungarians, as to the amount of 
 the enemy's forces." 
 
 ^' And by what means were you admitted to ex- 
 amine these matters ? You must have had a warm 
 o2 
 
196 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 recommendation ; and, I think, you must have 
 played a very singular part." 
 
 '' Your majesty need not be informed of the re- 
 lations, existing between my brother-in-law, To- 
 kely, and the Porte, notwithstanding my earnest 
 opposition to such a course. This was the intro- 
 duction I bore to the camp of Kara Mustapha ; 
 and I took advantage of the existing conspiracy, 
 the better to serve my sovereign." 
 
 '* Zriny," said the emperor, ia a serious, yet 
 paternal tone of voice ; *' you have ventured upon 
 very slippery ground ; how am I to know that you 
 stumbled not ? " 
 
 '' My future conduct, sire, will be the surest 
 pledge of my fidelity. I even make bold to ob- 
 serve, that my past conduct should plead some- 
 thing." 
 
 *' That is well," replied Leopold ; '' we are 
 about to hear mass ; and I must go. Come, rise ; 
 go to your chamber, and try to compose your 
 spirits. When I wish to see you, you shall have 
 notice of it ; and I will hear further what you have 
 to say." 
 
 The count had some difficulty to support him- 
 self, and taking his leave, with expressions of 
 respect and gratitude, he bent his faltering steps 
 to the door. The emperor followed him with his 
 eyes : *' It is strange ," he said aloud, when his 
 favourite had withdrawn ; *' it is very suspicious ; 
 yet he dare hardly be a traitor, and avow such 
 things to my face. However^ I will keep my eye 
 on him, and we shall see ;" and with this soliloquy 
 on his lips, the emperor followed the summons to 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 197 
 
 attend mass, and joined the courtly retinue that 
 awaited him, in the ante-chamber of his palace. 
 
 ** The unhappy Zriny, meantime, sought repose. 
 But it was in vain he tried to calm the tumult of 
 his feelings ; though worn down with anxiety and 
 fatigue, in vain he courted the relief of sleep. He 
 had, for the most part, stated to the emperor what 
 was strictly true ; but had concealed the principal 
 object of his journey to Munkats, which had oper- 
 ated a complete change in his opinions. On 
 arriving at the mansion of his brother-in-law, he 
 found the projects, so long contemplated, fully 
 matured ; while the results anticipated from them, 
 differed widely from those of which Zriny had 
 dreamed, in the enthusiasm of his character. He 
 was an ardent patriot, and, among other brilliant 
 objects of reform, he panted to behold his country- 
 men freed from the yoke of Austria. It was his 
 ambition to declare her independence, without 
 subjecting her to any ignominious connection with 
 the Ottoman power. 
 
 Emmerich Tokely, on the other hand, with more 
 experience, and greater wealth at his command, 
 had chalked out a very different course. While 
 he wished to rescue Hungary and Transylvania 
 from the sway of Austria, it was with a view to his 
 own aggrandisement, — to make himself a monarch, 
 under the protection of the Porte, — a protection as 
 necessary to acquire, as to preserve his dominion. 
 This diversity of views, led to frequent and warm 
 altercations on the subject ; and it required all his 
 sister's influence to. prevent Zriny coming to an 
 open rupture. He was convinced that Tokely *s 
 
198 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 views, could never coincide with his own ; while 
 the former openly ridiculed the more patriotic and 
 splendid designs of the young count, as the idle 
 reveries of an inexperienced boy. Zriny then de- 
 termined to act alone, and to devote all his ener- 
 gies to realize the patriotic objects he had in view, 
 without the assistance of a colleague. He calcu- 
 lated on his influence over the mind of his sove- 
 reign, and he hoped to be able to interest him in 
 the project of reform, he had long contemplated. 
 He had hastened, with the same motives, to hold 
 an interview with Kara Mustapha, who had re- 
 ceived him with all the pride and vanity of a bar- 
 barian. He treated the efforts of the Hungarian 
 with disdain, and only useful, as being a stepping 
 stone to his own ambition. He spoke with the ut- 
 most contempt of the emperor, and gave himself 
 so many airs, in every way, as utterly to disgust 
 the young Hungarian noble, who, quitting him 
 with indignation, revolved in his mind a new plan 
 of action. On his return, he had brought himself 
 to believe, by no uncommon sophism, that in the 
 emperor, his benefactor, he beheld two distinct 
 characters ; — the emperor of Germany, and the 
 king of Hungary; to the former of whom alone he 
 was bound to observe perfect allegiance. With 
 a duplicity that imposed less on the emperor, 
 than on himself, he imagined he could convert 
 Leopold into the reformer of his country; and, 
 with these high-plumed hopes, he had entered 
 his master's cabinet, and engaged in the strange 
 interview which we have just recounted. 
 
 The count soon found the fallacy of his patriotic 
 expectations; the emperor remained firm and im- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 199 
 
 mutable in his own views of government, in which 
 he had been initiated from his earliest childhood. 
 At the same time, he evinced no anger against the 
 young count, who boldly asserted his opinions, and 
 advocated them with a zeal which would not have 
 been permitted in another. There was little time, 
 however, to discuss the merits of the question : the 
 approach of the grand vizier was announced, with 
 every circumstance of exaggeration. He had al- 
 ready reached Buda, where Tcikely had united his 
 forces to the Ottomans ; and the two armies were 
 now in full march upon Vienna. 
 
 The imperialists, reinforced by the different 
 princes of the empire, had taken up a position 
 near Presburg; and on the 6th of May, the em- 
 peror, with a splendid retinue, proceeded to review 
 the entire army on the plains of Kitsee. A splen- 
 did chapel had been prepared for the occasion ; 
 the archbishop celebrated mass ; the imperial army 
 being drawn out in front, to participate in the sa- 
 cred ceremony, which the empress, likewise, with 
 the entire court, consisting of German and Hun- 
 garian nobles, graced with her presence. On its 
 conclusion, the archbishop proclaimed, in a loud 
 voice, that all those who should engage in this 
 holiest of wars against the infidels, were to receive 
 from Rome a succession of indulgences for the 
 space of 360 years ; after which, he bestowed his 
 benediction both upon the court and the army. It 
 was a scene calculated to revive the courage of the 
 drooping soldiery : the army was, moreover, better 
 organized, and more numerous than had been ex- 
 pected. The volunteers were full of ardour, and 
 
200 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the imperial court soon returned, with re-animated 
 spirits, to the capital. 
 
 Tidings, too, arrived, stating that the vizier, by 
 the advice of the other pachas, and of his ally 
 Tokely, had commenced his project of marching 
 direct for Vienna. He was now engaged in the 
 siege of Raab, while clouds of Tartars, preceding 
 the grand army of the Ottomans, spread them- 
 selves over the country, and ravaged and burned 
 the unfortunate villages wherever they appeared. 
 The inhabitants, struck with terror, fled on their 
 approach ; the alarm spread on all sides, and, with 
 hundreds of poor refugees, soon filled the environs 
 of the castle of Clamm. 
 
 There, after the departure of father Isidor, the 
 lady of Volkersdorf had remained, unsupported and 
 alone. Distracted by the various rumours which 
 reached her, of the rapid march of the enemy, and 
 the perils impending over the capital, she sought 
 advice on all sides, yet knew not what course to 
 adopt. At length, in the anguish of her fears, she 
 resolved to join her daughter, and seek refuge in 
 the capital ; in order at least, to have the mournful 
 satisfaction of sharing the fate of those whom she 
 loved. She prepared, therefore, to set out, with 
 the utmost haste; packed up almost every thing 
 that was of no value, and forgot all that was of the 
 slightest importance. She was then assisted into 
 the old family coach, with her ancient steward and 
 her women ; the whole escorted by such of the 
 male establishment as could yet support themselves 
 on horseback, armed cap-a-pie with the old rusty 
 family weapons, and all the agricultural imple- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 201 
 
 ments which could be mustered for the occasion, 
 and converted into instruments of defence. This 
 antique procession presented a singular appear- 
 ance ; the exterior consisting, as it did, of a for- 
 midable bulwark of trunks and packages of the 
 most grotesque description, and surrounded by 
 some half dozen decayed servitors, and as many 
 clod-hoppers from the hereditary farm. The foot- 
 men, in liveries of tarnished lace, were variously 
 armed with hunting-spears, fowling-pieces, and 
 halberts ; the peasants, in tattered and soiled jer- 
 kins, bore the useful weapons called flails, axes, 
 scythes, and hammers ; headed up by the late 
 baron's most ancient and respected valet-de-cham, 
 who could boast some former century's exploits, in 
 the ranks of departed cuirassiers. He was a very 
 Quixote, as regarded both his valour and his 
 equipment ; for he wore an old helmet, with a 
 vizor, and rode a hack, that might vie with Rosi- 
 nante ; while his companions were mounted on 
 steeds fully as steady as Dapple, having previously 
 been in harness some twenty years, and very re- 
 cently unyoked from the plough. 
 
 The dame of Volkersdorf ordered the procession 
 to stop and question every passenger they met ; 
 from each and all of whom she heard much more 
 than she liked, relating to the formidable progress 
 of the Mussulmans. Hungary, she was told, was 
 in full revolt ; towns and villages were sacked ; 
 the entire inhabitants put to the sword ; and the 
 mere handful of imperial troops in full retreat 
 before the flushed and victorious Ottoman. Almost 
 dead with terror, and having spent half the period 
 required for her journey in these idle inquiries, 
 
202 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 she at length gave orders for hastening forward to 
 Vienna; but the heavy materiel of the expedition, 
 namely, the great family coach and its luggage, 
 proved a very serious obstacle to any thing like a 
 flight. On approaching the city, her fears grew 
 tenfold, on beholding the immense preparations for 
 defence, which the old steward explained in the 
 most learned and technical manner, and in a tone of 
 mystery which aggravated her apprehensions to an 
 indefinite extent. He informed her why the houses 
 had been pulled down, why the palisades had been 
 erected, and such a body of artificers employed in 
 repairing the ramparts along the walls. On arriv- 
 ing at the Carinthian gate, she observed, in the 
 midst of the workmen, an officer, whose pale and 
 serious, yet dignified expression of countenance, 
 attracted her attention. 
 
 " That is Count Stahremberg, the commander," 
 cried the steward ; *' I saw him when I was here 
 before.'' 
 
 *' And who that fine-looking ecclesiastic who 
 accompanies him?" 
 
 " That is our venerable bishop, the Count Col- 
 lonitz.'' 
 
 The baroness recognised him. ** What has he to 
 do there ? " she inquired. 
 
 *' I am told, my lady, that he is always to be 
 found wherever danger calls, and courage is want- 
 ing. To succour the unfortunate, too, is his de- 
 light.'' 
 
 Meantime the lumbering coach passed slowly 
 through the two gates, and entered the city, which 
 every where gave sign of coming war. They were 
 conveying cannon to the ramparts; the heavy rolling 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. ^03 
 
 of the artillery, the neighing and tramp of horses, 
 the cry to arms, mingled with the lamentations of 
 women, and the screams of children, gave a pecu- 
 liar appearance to the city. The citizens and 
 students were seen performing military exercise, 
 to train them to the defence of the bastions. The 
 sight deprived the poor lady of what little courage 
 she had left; and she began to speculate on the po- 
 licy of having left her own castle, to run, as it seem- 
 ed, into the very front and fury of the onset. But 
 there she was; there was no help for it; and she 
 alighted at one of the well-filled hotels. Scarcely 
 had she set foot on the threshold, than she began 
 to be sadly incommoded with the noises of every 
 kind. She sent off to Madame de Preysing's, for 
 the instant attendance of her daughter. Poor 
 Catherine, half pleased and half terrified at the 
 idea of some new misfortune, hastened to obey the 
 summons, and was not a little re-assured, on learn- 
 ing from her ow^n lips, that the whole resolved itself 
 into the old lady's dread of becoming the sudden 
 prey of some ferocious Tartar. What , however, 
 was now to be done? she had already taken an 
 aversion to the hotel ; she had no relatives or ac- 
 quaintances at Vienna, and for the last five-and- 
 twenty years, she had never so much as quitted 
 her ancient domain. Her daughter was at a loss 
 how to advise her ; but Madame de Preysing was 
 at hand, and instantly ofl:ered her an apartment in 
 her own house. Catherine was delighted, and ex- 
 pressed her gratitude in no measured terms; but 
 she had no little difficulty in persuading her mother 
 to accept it. She was made as happy as it was in 
 the power of her excellent hostess, assisted by the 
 
204 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 delightful Catherine, to make an antique baroness 
 transplanted irom her cloister; and though there ' 
 was little in the character of the ladies that assimi- 
 lated, they observed a distant civility; the baroness 
 deigning to accept the comforts prepared for her, 
 and to partake of her own society in her own apart- 
 ments. Often did she sigh when she thought of 
 her old castle, her antiquated state, the soothing 
 councils of father Isidor, and the attentions of her 
 time-worn and venerable attendants in their faded 
 liveries, and their slow dignified movements. 
 
 How pleasant for Catherine, on the morning after 
 her arrival, to be treated to an eulogium, or rather 
 elegy of some hours' length, on the merits of the 
 excellent father Isidor, ending with an inquiry as 
 to her preparations for entering a convent. She 
 was desirous it should take place immediately, to 
 fill up the gap made in the family piety by the 
 apostacy of Ludmilla, who, however, as she under- 
 stood, made rather a brilliant figure in the first 
 circles at Paris. This, she said, was some conso- 
 lation; and poor Catherine had not the heart to 
 undeceive her. 
 
 Meantime, Zriny had left no means untried to 
 excite some interest in the bosom of Leopold for 
 his unhappy country. He drew the picture of a 
 happy and grateful people ; he asked the smallest 
 possible concessions; he worked upon every passion, 
 and made every kind of appeal most calculated to 
 impress a great or a good ruler ; but Leopold re- 
 mained inflexible. A barbarian chief, flushed with 
 success, was approaching; the Austrian monarchy 
 might crumble into ruins ; the most humiliating fate 
 might be reserved for him ; but he was firm, and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 205 
 
 could be led to look upon Tokely and the Hunga- 
 rians, and even their advocates, only in the light of 
 traitors. Zriny found himself caught in his own 
 snare; he was involved in a maze of difficulties; 
 the crisis was at hand ; he must make his choice, 
 and was bound, either to betray his benefactor and 
 his sovereign, or reveal the entire plot, and ulti- 
 mate views of his nearest relatives. 
 
 Neither Tokely nor the grand vizier were at all 
 aware of what was passing, imagining that Count 
 Zriny was still their ally, if not their accomplice. 
 They conceived that he was playing into their 
 hands, by remaining near the person of the em- 
 peror, and that he still enjoyed all the royal con- 
 fidence; and Tokely had long since proposed to 
 carry on, in cypher, a secret correspondence, by 
 means of which, he should be able to anticipate the 
 project of the Imperialists. But Zriny, since his 
 explanations with the emperor, had given merely 
 vague and unsatisfactory information, amusing 
 them with accounts from France, and promises of 
 support never meant to be realized. His position 
 was thus become painful and embarrassing in the 
 extreme; though no one who beheld him at the 
 emperor's side, amiable, witty, and engaging as he 
 had ever been, — the envy of courtiers and lovers, 
 would have suspected what was passing in his 
 mind. Leopold seemed daily to become more at- 
 tached to him, as if, by giving him his full confi- 
 dence, to make him forget that he had entertained 
 suspicions of his loyalty. 
 
 The soundness of the count's views, moreover, 
 his penetration and his indefatigable activity, were 
 fully appreciated, at so momentous a period, by his 
 
206 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 master. When retired to his own apartment, he no 
 longer presented the character of the envied and 
 distinguished favourite. His heart was torn by the 
 bitterest conflicts between his country and his be- 
 nefactor, — his loyalty, and his hatred of oppression, 
 in so many forms. Often would he curse his own 
 destiny, in the agony of his feelings, and the day 
 when he first saw the light. He had tried every 
 argument in the power of man to change the sys- 
 tem of government, and the feelings of a mistaken 
 and obdurate prince. Should he risk being called 
 a traitor, an ingrate, — or desert his beloved country ? 
 His father had sealed his attachment for that coun- 
 try in his blood. And should he, for the hollow 
 smiles of princes, and the pride and envy of a 
 court, turn renegade to all the cherished hopes, and 
 noblest motives that had actuated him from earliest 
 childhood? It was, then, also, the sorrowful fea- 
 tures of his wife rose before his view ; he had left 
 her wretched and alone ; she whom he had first met, 
 glowing in youth and beauty, surrounded by do- 
 mestic love, happy in innocence, religious hope, and 
 serenity of mind. He, it was, who had robbed her 
 of all she held dear; her home, her friends, her 
 reputation, and even her religious hopes. Remorse 
 began to seize upon his heart; he could not bear 
 the picture of the ruin he had wrought; he had re- 
 turned ingratitude for love; had proved faithless to 
 all who had reposed confidence in him, and was about 
 to consummate his crimes, by betraying his royal 
 master and benefactor himself. Haunted by images 
 of pain and grief, his imagination gave a darker 
 hue to every object by which he was surrounded; 
 he threw off the trappings of state, sought to bury- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 207 
 
 himself in solitude ; and closing his apartment, sat 
 absorbed in wretched retrospect, and more fearful 
 forebodings of the future. All at once, a slight 
 noise near him, roused him from his reverie; his 
 eye instantly turned to a corner of the room where 
 a secret door, covered with tapestry, communicated 
 with a staircase beyond the palace, and of which 
 only his most confidential messenger held the key. 
 
 The next moment the pannel opened, and the 
 figure of a monk entered the room. Zriny started 
 up in alarm, when the man, throwing off his hood 
 and cloak, presented the form of the faithful 
 Kolschutzki, an old retainer of the deceased count, 
 and strongly attached to the family. A Greek by 
 birth, of singular talent and experience, he had 
 seen almost every part of the world, and knew most 
 languages. At a crisis like the present, he was a 
 most valuable emissary to employ between the house 
 of Tokely and Count Zriny. He was more parti- 
 cularly devoted to the service of the Princess Helena, 
 and her consort Tokely, in whose interest he had 
 opened a correspondence with many of the Pachas, 
 now resident in Hungary. He had, however, 
 realized a fortune, and it was merely from habit and 
 affection to the family that he still continued to 
 promote their views, without reference to any ser- 
 vile considerations. 
 
 Kolschutzki," exclaimed Zriny, *' can it be you? 
 I knew you not." 
 
 '* So I believe," replied the Greek, *' and I am 
 glad of it. It is a proof that no one else is likely 
 to recognise me ; and it is better it should be. I 
 bring you great news;" saying which, he took a 
 letter in cypher from his secret pocket, and handed 
 
208 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA* 
 
 it to the count. '^ But what is the matter, my 
 lord," he continued, struck with the pale, woe-worn 
 expression of Zriny's features. ^' You have been 
 ill ; I am sure you have.'* 
 
 ** It is not that, my dear Francis," replied the 
 count ; " no, I am pretty well ;" at the same time 
 placing his hand, so as to shade his face, while he 
 decyphered the letter by a key which he took from 
 his secret drawer. But the emissary still looked at 
 him with an anxious expression ; he saw there was 
 something going very wrong, though he forbore to 
 question him farther. The letter, too, appeared to 
 agitate the count exceedingly. He perused, and 
 re-perused it with intense interest ; and at length 
 exclaimed: ** Good God! then the die is cast! 
 who gave you this letter?" 
 
 " Yvan ; you know him well. He was sent by 
 your brother Tokely. He came post from the grand 
 vizier, who is in full march from Raab upon 
 Vienna." 
 
 ** Know you the contents of this ?" 
 
 ** In part I do ; no persuasions on the part of his 
 pachas, the remonstrances of Tokely, nor the Duke 
 of Lorraine, in his front, have prevailed with Kara 
 Mustapha, to delay his march for the capital. He 
 is bearing down with his whole strength upon the 
 devoted city. Yvan, himself, saw immense bodies 
 of Tartars, devastating the country, and already 
 upon the banks of the lake Neusiedel." 
 
 *' Nothing more ?" 
 
 '' Nothing, at least certain. The grand vizier 
 counts upon your co-operation and support ; your 
 brother also, though I am ignorant as to the man- 
 ner." While speaking, he fixed a penetrating eye 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 209 
 
 upon the count, whose mind, v/rung by remorse, 
 could not sustain the glance, as he thought of the 
 approaching crisis. He grew pale, and trembled. 
 *' Away! we have done !'' he cried, *^ and we may 
 happen to be surprised.'* 
 
 Kolschutzki made his obeisance, advanced to- 
 wards the secret door, hesitated a moment, and then 
 returned : '^ My lord, I know not the contents, on 
 my oath ; but if that letter exacts any thing from 
 you, which compels you to avoid the scrutiny of an 
 old and faithful servant of your house, believe a 
 humble friend like Francis, it will be better you 
 should not engage in it." 
 
 Zriny made an angry gesture. He was about to 
 speak, but contented himself with waving his hand 
 for him to depart. The signal was obeyed ; and 
 the count once more threw himself upon his couch ; 
 a prey to the most violent and conflicting feelings. 
 The tidings he had just received confirmed his worst 
 fears. 
 
 Tokely was in strict alliance with the Porte ; he 
 had united his forces to those of the vizier, and they 
 were advancing, by forced marches, to besiege the 
 capital. What would be the fate of Hungary, with 
 the proud Tokely at its head, and humbled into a 
 vice-royalty of the enemies of Christianity ? There 
 was another, and still more pressing subject of 
 deliberation. Tokely was resolved that Leopold 
 should not fall into the hands of a haughty barba- 
 rian, but take refuge in Hungary, under the sur- 
 veillance of himself and his party. He declared 
 that some means must be devised, as early as possi- 
 ble, to conduct him into his own power ; and that 
 Zriny was the only person who could put the 
 
210 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 scheme into execution. They could then dictate 
 what terms they pleased, in behalf of the Hun- ; 
 garians ; and he reminded the count of the wrongs 
 suffered by his father, and what he himself owed 
 to his country. *' If we fail now," he concluded,! 
 ** to profit by the course of events, the cause of our ' 
 country is lost for ever ; its fate is in your hands ; 
 the fate of yourself and your family ; think well 
 ere you refuse, and remember the dying words of 
 your noble and patriotic father." 
 
 It was these lines which had so powerfully af- 
 fected the count in the presence of the emissary. 
 He felt as a son, and a patriot; but he was also 
 the adopted child of Leopold, — >the favourite of his 
 monarch ; and how was he to act under motives so 
 strangely and so equally at variance. The tumult 
 of his feelings, thus placed in fearful conflict, was 
 followed by a sense of desolation and despair, 
 which evinced that a yet more terrible calamity 
 was not far distant. His mind was in that state, 
 which argues the approach of insanity ; and upon 
 perusing the still more forcible appeals to his 
 patriotism, from his sister Helena, the confusion 
 and excitement of his ideas acquired a fresh im- 
 pulse, he could no longer resist. She reminded 
 him of the honour and glory of their house ; the 
 distinguished service srendered by his ancestors to 
 their country; the memorable defence of Szigeth, 
 and all which their uncle, the Khan of Croatia, had 
 sacrificed for his king.* She depicted in the live- 
 liest colours the ingratitude of the court of Vienna ; 
 
 f ^ 
 
 * Count Nicholas Zriny lost his life in defending the fortress 
 of SEigelh. Kbrner, the Tyrtaeus of Germany, has celebrated his 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 211 
 
 the injustice and extortions it inflicted ; and the 
 base treachery it had displayed, in first engaging 
 their noble father in a conspiracy, and subsequently 
 betraying him into the hands of the executioner. 
 But he died in the noblest and best of causes, leav- 
 ing an example of virtue and patriotism to his 
 children. 
 
 It was this last appeal which decided the wretched 
 count ; he sat down to write, and twenty times he 
 tore what he had written. But his determination 
 to embrace the project of Tokely was taken, and 
 he wrote briefly to that effect. He declared that he 
 •would induce the emperor to withdraw to Lintz, 
 along the right bank of the Danube ; where doubt- 
 less the dark forest of Wienerwald, over the moun- 
 tain of Ridenberg, would give a safe opportunity 
 to carry off the royal person. He next resolved to 
 despatch his letter by the faithful Kolschutzky, 
 immediately ; and throwing on a morning dress, 
 he set out in search of him. He traversed the yet 
 unfrequented streets to reach the Red Tower, near 
 which the emissary had taken up his abode. How 
 deliciously the cool air met his burning temples ! 
 He turned his eye towards the majestic Danube ; 
 he paused, delighted with the quiet scenery which 
 burst upon his view. Nature still bloomed in all 
 her freshness and loveliness ; and seemed to speak 
 peace to his soul. The convent of the Camaldoli, 
 and the ruins of aged castles in the distance, with 
 elegant villas and enchanting gardens in the fore- 
 exploits in a noble tragedy. The nephew of this hero was Khan 
 of Croatia, distinguished for his valour in the first wars against 
 the Turks, and also as an able statesman. He was unfortunately 
 killed while engaged in the chace, by the tusks of a wild boar. 
 p2 
 
212 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 ground, rose before his view. *' Alas !'' thought he, 
 "what will become of all this beauty, — this magnifi- 
 cence of nature and of art, in the lapse of a few 
 brief days ? Hosts of barbarians, like clouds of lo- 
 custs, will soon darken the brightness of the impe- 
 rial city, and these enchanting environs. The 
 rage of the infidel will level these mighty ramparts ; 
 these edifices will be a heap of ruins ; this noble 
 stream will flow stained with the blood of the 
 Christians, or see them borne away into frightful 
 captivity. — And who," he exclaimed, *' opened 
 a way to disasters and calamities, like these ? — 
 who invited and supported these ferocious hordes, 
 breathing only carnage and desolation V Zriny 
 shuddered ; he paused as he passed the bridge, and, 
 by a strange momentary impulse, felt inclined to 
 end his doubts and troubles at once, by throwing 
 himself from the parapet into the waves. He would 
 have done it, had not the same love of his country, 
 which had brought so many misfortunes upon his 
 house, arrested the fatal step, and whispered that 
 it was a cowardly act thus to fly from an existence 
 which ought to be devoted to the freedom and hap- 
 piness of his native land. He felt a pang of shame 
 at the idea ; he rallied all his strength of purpose, 
 and with a rapid step sought the residence of Kols- 
 chutzky. He no longer hesitated, but gave him 
 the letter with the strongest injunctions to use 
 despatch. It was received by the attached and 
 faithful Francis with a look of painful solicitude ; 
 from which the count turned away with an expres- 
 sion of impatience, and hastily retraced his steps. 
 The die was now cast ; and the decision to which 
 he had come, in removing the torturing doubts and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 213 
 
 conflicts of continued suspense, seemed to give 
 immense relief to his mind. He was enabled to take 
 several hours repose ; from which he was awoke 
 only by a summons to attend the emperor. 
 
 He found Stahremberg, the bishop of Collonitz, 
 and other ministers already in attendance ; for tid- 
 ings had just been received of the rapid approach of 
 the Turks, and the retreat of the imperial generals. 
 No time was to be lost ; they would be under the 
 walls of Vienna in five or six days, and Leopold 
 was advised to remove to some place, if not of 
 greater security, at a greater distance. 
 
 *' We shall see," observed the monarch, " there 
 wfll always be time to run away." 
 
 '* Not always, sire," replied Count Stahrem- 
 berg ; " permit me to say, that if ever, your de- 
 parture ought to take place within a few hours." 
 
 ** I will not quit my capital, nor my people of 
 Vienna," replied the emperor, with firmness, " at 
 least, not while we can find any other expedient. 
 Besides, it is a matter of importance, general, that 
 I should remain ; the whole city would be thrown 
 into confusion." 
 
 " And how know we ?" observed Zriny, ** that 
 the danger is so near at hand ? After all, it may 
 only be one of the fancies of the hour." 
 
 ** It is no idle rumour," returned Stahremberg, 
 drily ; ** a courier from the Duke of Lorraine, has 
 brought the information, even now." 
 
 '* It is high time, then," exclaimed the bishop, 
 in evident alarm, ** that your majesty look to your 
 personal safety, and leave Vienna." 
 
 " And you, too, my good bishop," cried the 
 emperor ; " will you have me set the example of a 
 
214 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 general flight, and let the walls of my capital be 
 scaled without a struggle ? We must preserve 
 public order." 
 
 *' Permit me, sire," observed Count Zriny, turn- 
 ing from the other ministers, directly towards Leo- 
 pold, to attract his attention, *^ to explain how I 
 am of opinion; your majesty might consult your 
 own safety, and what you feel due to your people 
 of the capital, at the same time. Could your 
 majesty not set out as if engaged on a journey of 
 pleasure, not one of absolute necessity, on the 
 spur of the occasion ?" 
 
 ''What!" interrupted Stahremberg; '' this ap- 
 pears very singular sort of advice, except, indeed, 
 from a very young man !" 
 
 . *' As your excellency, in the depth of your judg- 
 ment, may deign to decide," retorted Zriny, with 
 an ironical smile. *' Yes, I am unfortunately 
 young, and have none of those old, experienced 
 views." 
 
 '' Zriny !" interrupted the emperor, in a grave 
 tone; ** think where you are." 
 
 *' Pardon me, sire," returned the young count, 
 while anger flushed his brow, and he bit his lips 
 till the blood sprang from his excess of rage ; *' but 
 I am silent." 
 
 *' Well, well ; say what you please," observed 
 the good-natured Leopold, noticing his excessive 
 agitation. 
 
 "It would be too presumptuous, I feel, to give 
 my opinion in presence of those veteran counsellors, 
 who have the honour to be near your royal person." 
 
 ** Speak, I command you," said the emperor. 
 
 " I was going to observe, sire," resumed Zriny, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 215 
 
 ^^ that your majesty, under pretext of withdrawing 
 from the din and tumult of the city, might first 
 visit your palace of Schoenbrun, and thence proceed 
 through the imperial park, as if engaged in the 
 pleasures of the chace, on your journey to Lintz. 
 This will make no noise, and time will be given to 
 obviate any ill effects to be apprehended from 
 your majesty's departure." 
 
 *' You might give worse advice, my friend, '* said 
 the emperor ; ** we must take it into consideration." 
 
 ** And granting it is adopted," observed the 
 bishop ; ** would your majesty proceed along the 
 right bank of the river ?" 
 
 *' Of course," replied Zriny ; " it is the direct 
 road to Lintz. If proper measures be adopted, his 
 majesty may reach it before his absence can be 
 even rumoured at Vienna." 
 
 ** And how," exclaimed Stahremberg, '' are we 
 to provide an escort to ensure the protection of his 
 majesty's person? The imperial army is posted on 
 the left ; and you know that the Duke Charles has 
 repassed the Danube in full retreat." 
 
 *' If your majesty really think you require a 
 military escort," observed Zriny, '* when sur- 
 rounded by your faithful subjects, you can order 
 some companies from the reserve, stationed at 
 Krema." 
 
 " From Krema ! the hospital of invalids !" ex- 
 claimed Stahremberg, in an ironical tone ; "a 
 pretty protection for the royal person, forsooth !" 
 
 '* It will not do ;" said the bishop, very seriously ; 
 ** let me entreat that your majesty do not venture 
 along the right bank of the river." 
 
 ** But what is the great danger you apprehend ?" 
 inquired Leopold. 
 
216 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 "The advanced posts of the enemy," replied 
 Collonitz ; " perhaps, still nearer than we appre- 
 hend, for who is there to oppose them ?" 
 
 " I agree with you,'' added Stahremberg, ** some 
 grievous misfortune might result from proceeding 
 along the right bank ; I cannot conceive what mo- 
 tive can suggest any such advice." 
 
 " The only question," said Zriny, *Ms, whether 
 it be not preferable in a juncture like this, that 
 your majesty should decide according to your own 
 judgment, upon the course to be pursued." 
 
 ** A faithful subject," interrupted Stahremberg, 
 *'will never recommend a step so fraught with 
 danger as this." 
 
 *' What mean you, sir ? how dare you, sir, pre- 
 fer accusations like those in the presence of my 
 sovereign ?" exclaimed the count, wholly thrown 
 off his guard. " My gracious master knows — " 
 
 '* What ! again, Zriny !" interrupted the emperor. 
 " Go on general." 
 
 ** You say," continued Stahremberg, " that the 
 emperor knows you, and it is true ; such as you 
 have pleased to show yourself ^ but not such as you 
 are." 
 
 "That to my face, general ! it is too much. Grant 
 you, I am young ; and you the commander of the 
 city; am I, sir, less the gentleman, — and less to be 
 treated as such ? But you are aware of the pro- 
 tection afforded you in this place, or, by heavens ! 
 you should give me most exemplary satisfaction." 
 He trembled with rage as he spoke ; fire flashed 
 from his eyes, and a deadly paleness sat upon his 
 cheek ; he had a bitter struggle to bear the hu- 
 miliation of seeing his secret object detected and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 217 
 
 exposed, as it were, to the eyes of his sovereign by 
 his enemies. Fixing a look of concentrated hatred 
 and contempt upon Stahremberg, he made his 
 obeisance to the emperor, and hastened from the 
 council ; — the last words of Leopold, ** You have 
 reason to rejoice, you are not going under arrest ; 
 but take care how you tempt me further l" still 
 ringing in his ears. 
 
 '*That young man," said the bishop, ** has a 
 wonderfully high opinion of himself." 
 
 ''He is a young fool,*' added Stahremberg; 
 " puffed with pride, presumption, and vanity of all 
 kinds ; please God it be nothing worse !" 
 
 ''General," said the emperor, "I am well aware 
 that regard for my person urges you to speak thus, 
 and I thank you for it. But do not be unjust; 
 such accusations are too serious ; think you him 
 capable of betraying me, — his benefactor ?" 
 
 " Yes, sire ! capable of any thing ; his vanity 
 has turned his head ; and most probably he will give 
 your majesty more convincing proofs of it, ere long. 
 He has traitor written on his brow." 
 
 " You have told me as much before ; you de- 
 scribed his journey to Munkats and Adrianople in 
 the blackest colours ; yet I ascertained that you 
 were mistaken in your opinion of him." Stahrem- 
 berg bit his lip ; — " far be it from me to question 
 your majesty's penetration ; yet I cannot doubt the 
 truth of the information I have received respecting 
 him. But time presses ; let me beseech your ma- 
 jesty to permit us to make preparations for your 
 departure, — not later than another morning." 
 
 "To-morrow morning ! impossible, Stahremberg. 
 The empress is not yet informed of it, nor a per- 
 
218 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 son in my palace. There are a thousand things to 
 be thought of; — my librarian, Lambeccius has not 
 half packed up my books and medals, — nothing 
 must be lost ! — to-morrow ! — impossible '."repeated 
 the poor monarch, not a little puzzled what to 
 think, much less how to act in such a dilemma. 
 
 At this moment, old Lambeccius, hearing his 
 name, advanced from behind a rampart of books 
 where he had entrenched himself apart from the 
 conference, and hobbling up with a most lugubri- 
 ous look : '^ Heaven help us !" he said, drawling 
 a deep sigh ; *' talk of packing up the royal library, 
 and all these precious collections of rarities for to- 
 morrow morning. * Festina lente,' was the motto of 
 the Emperor Augustus. Only reflect, sire, what 
 misfortunes might arise by attempting too much in 
 a given time ; yes, irreparable misfortunes !" 
 
 '^ Your Latin will do us no good, friend," said 
 the commander, smiling, *' unless you can trans- 
 late it into cannon law against the infidels ; but 
 to show you I have not quite forgotten my gram- 
 mar, I give you my favourite proverb, ^Audaces 
 for tuna juvat ;' so I advise you to set speedily to 
 work, and pack up your bales of science." 
 
 '* Don't be afraid, Lambeccius," said the emperor, 
 to the terrified man of letters ; '' there is no such 
 great hurry as the general talks of; the thing can- 
 not be done ; we are not going on a military expe- 
 dition ; there is aways time to run away, I repeat. 
 Still there is no harm in beginning to pack up, — 
 only do not disturb yourself ; have some regard to 
 your age ; and take your time, and vale, Lamhecci ; 
 that is, * make haste,' or the Turks will save us the 
 trouble." The poor bibliopole, half dead with 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 219 
 
 terror, made his exit with his usual, formal bow ; 
 though his legs could hardly support him. While 
 thus jesting, however, with his librarian for a mo- 
 ment, the emperor, aided by his ministers, lost no 
 time in taking the necessary measures; and having 
 every thing prepared, in case of more alarming 
 tidings, for the royal departure. 
 
 Meantime, the rapid progress of the Turks be- 
 coming known, the city was thrown into great 
 excitation. Anxiety, or terror, were depicted in 
 every countenance ; groups of men were seen con- 
 sulting ; others were seen running to and fro, as if 
 at a loss whither to fly ; while a confused murmur 
 and lugubrious sounds filled the whole air. Though 
 less visible, the wretchedness and lamentations in 
 the houses, were still more affecting ; for the inha- 
 bitants had now lost their final hope, that the Turks 
 would confine their attempts to the capture of Pres- 
 burg and Raab, instead of marching for the ca- 
 pital. 
 
220 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Some days had elapsed, since the violent scene 
 which took place in the emperor's presence, and 
 Count Zriny had received no fresh summons to 
 appear in the cabinet. It was a humiliation he 
 could ill bear ; yet it served to allay the remorse he 
 felt at the idea of betraying his benefactor into the 
 hands of the insurgents. He conceived he had 
 been injured, and even unjustly condemned by 
 him in the face of his enemies. He had been 
 openly insulted and accused, yet was not permitted 
 to retaliate. Had the accusation been wholly un- 
 founded, he would have felt irritated ; he hated 
 Stahremberg, because he had penetrated his de- 
 sign ; and he ventured no longer to count upon the 
 favour of his sovereign. He turned now to the ex- 
 ample of patriots, who had sacrificed all private 
 interests and affections to the public weal ; and 
 why, should the days of a Brutus or a Timoleon 
 be fled for ever? Deceived by these patriotic illu- 
 sions, he believed himself to be called upon to 
 achieve some lofty enterprise that should comme- 
 morate his name, and produce a new era in the 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 221 
 
 annals of his country. He was inspired with re- 
 newed vigour and resolution at the idea ; events 
 called for action ; and his first object towards the 
 accomplishment of all he had in view, was to pos- 
 sess himself of the emperor's person, and extort 
 those rights and privileges, which he had in vain 
 solicited for his country. Before venturing further, 
 however, with so decisive a measure, there were 
 some duties of a tenderer nature, to which he could 
 not at such a moment be indifferent; the image of 
 his wife, his once beautiful and beloved Ludmilla, 
 rose, with sorrowing and reproachful look before 
 his fancy ; it was then he felt her real excellence, 
 her noble disinterestedness, her tenderness, and all 
 the sacrifices she had made for him alone ; and he 
 resolved, as far as yet lay in his power, to repair his 
 fault, and do full justice to her worth. He wrote 
 to his sister Helena, recommending her by every 
 appeal of affection, and explaining that she had 
 every legal title to the name of a sister and a wife. 
 After despatching this letter, he hastened to the 
 residence of Catherine ; told her what he had done ; 
 and after taking a tender farewell of her, as the 
 sister of his Ludmilla, gave the faithful Kols- 
 chutzki exact directions how he was to provide for 
 her safety, if the city should be carried by assault. 
 She was instantly to be placed under the protec- 
 tion of Tokely. 
 
 Scarcely had he made these arrangements, and 
 returned to his mansion, before he heard a violent 
 tumult and uproar in the vicinity of the palace. 
 There was a hurrying through the corridors, high 
 voices were heard, succeeded by mutterings or 
 whisperings ; doors were suddenly opened and 
 
222 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 closed ; in short, all announced that some strange 
 and important event had taken place. The count 
 rang for his page, who entered the room pale and 
 trembling ; and stammered out, in answer to a look 
 of interrogation, that the Austrians had suffered a 
 signal defeat at Petronell, and that in a very few ^ 
 hours, the Ottoman banners would be seen unfurl- 
 ed under the walls of Vienna. 
 
 Eager for action, as he now was, this announce- 
 ment at first startled the count, till he began to 
 reflect on the improbability of such an occurrence. 
 He hastened to the body guards, in order to learn 
 from the commanding officer some official account, 
 and soon found that the one he had heard was 
 much exaggerated. The Duke of Lorraine, indeed, 
 could not oppose the grand vizier under the walls 
 of Raab : he had retired with no little haste ; had 
 passed the Danube with his infantry, and at- 
 tempted with his cavalry, to cover the city of Vi- 
 enna, by marching along the opposite bank. But 
 Kara Mustapha, bent upon carrying the imperial 
 city by surprise, used every effort to anticipate his 
 movements, and reach it before him. Innumerable 
 hordes of Tartars preceded his line of march, 
 spreading terror and consternation over the whole 
 face of the country. Fire and desolation followed 
 in their path ; not a town, not an inhabitant, was 
 spared ; and those who fell not by the sword, were 
 led into more wretched captivity. The few excep- 
 tions, were such places as threw themselves upon 
 the protection of Tokely, swearing fealty to him as 
 their future king. The advanced guard of the 
 Austrians had reached Petronell, where the ma- 
 jestic river rolls through the plains, and the ruins 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 223 
 
 of Roman edifices point out the site of the ancient 
 town of Carnuntum. There they were suddenly 
 attacked by a large body of Tartars, who sprung 
 from an ambuscade ; and uttering horrible yells, 
 fell upon the Austrians, who, imagining they were 
 surrounded by the whole Ottoman army, were 
 seized with panic. It was only by great efforts 
 that the Margrave of Baden was enabled to unde- 
 ceive and re- assure them, so as to retreat with 
 some degree of order upon the main body of the 
 imperialists. Some of the camp equipage, how- 
 ever, fell into the hands of the Tartars ; a num- 
 ber of distinguished officers were slain, among 
 whom was the Prince of Croy ; but the action 
 made no impression upon the movements of the 
 army, which pursued its march along both banks 
 of the Danube. 
 
 It was now Zriny*s object to obtain an interview 
 with the emperor, to learn by what road he in- 
 tended to withdraw from the capital ; and to in- 
 fluence him, by indirect means, to adopt that most 
 favourable to the success of his project. In a few 
 hours it might be too late ; he was preparing to 
 hasten to the court, when he received a summons 
 from Leopold himself to attend. Zriny started ; 
 but soon resumed his firmness, and following the 
 royal page, bade him instantly to announce him. 
 The doors were thrown open; the count entered, 
 looking extremely pale and feeble. 
 
 '' How are you, Zriny V* said the emperor; ** I 
 am truly concerned to see you are so very weak 
 and ill ; I suppose you have heard what has oc- 
 curred ? and we must at last set out." 
 
 ** I have heard so, sire, yet I can hardly — I do 
 not wish to believe it/' 
 
224 THE SIEGE OF VIEIfNA. 
 
 " It is true, however," replied Leopold ; " our 
 affairs are in a bad train ; the hand of the Lord is 
 heavy upon us." 
 
 Now came the decisive moment ; ** And what," 
 asked Zriny, *' is it your majesty proposes to do ?" 
 " That which I am compelled to ; to leave the 
 city instantly." 
 
 ** There is not a moment more to lose," ob- 
 served the bishop Collonitz. 
 
 ** The only question is, the route we are to take; 
 let us decide. You advised me, Zriny, to take the 
 right of the river along the great road. My lords 
 here do not agree with you." 
 
 " I could wish to hear your majesty's unbiassed 
 opinion." 
 
 ** I think with you, my friend ; and our burger- 
 master here, also. Speak, Liebenberg, what are 
 your reasons ?" said the emperor. — He explained 
 them, and a warm discussion now took place be- 
 tween Liebenberg and the other persons present ; 
 but it led to no satisfactory result. Leopold then 
 turned to Count Zriny : '' You are young, my dear 
 friend ; but you have rare penetration, and no 
 little experience ; let us hear more fully what you 
 have to say on this perplexing point." 
 
 Zriny seized the opportunity ; and in the most 
 eloquent and plausible terms, supported the same 
 view as had just been taken by M. de Liebenberg. 
 He insisted that an army in full retreat, like his 
 own, and probably by this time, in complete dis- 
 order, was little calculated to afford safety, or 
 protect the royal person in case of any emergency. 
 It would rather tend to impede his progress ; the ■ 
 roads would be strewed with the wreck of artillery 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 225 
 
 and equipage ; parties of the enemy would be 
 sweeping the country in all directions, on the line 
 of march ; while, on the contrary, by taking the 
 other side of the river, his majesty would easily 
 reach Lintz, in four-and-twenty hours, even be- 
 fore the grand vizier had time to put his troops in 
 motion, in that direction. In short, he argued that 
 by adopting this plan, every danger would be ob- 
 viated, and that the journey would be conducted 
 at once with safety and convenience. 
 
 This advice was as eagerly and warmly opposed by 
 the other ministers ; but Leopold, after giving them 
 a patient hearing, broke up the council, dismissing 
 all the members, with the exception of Count Zriny. 
 He had triumphed ; and with beating heart and 
 perturbed countenance, hastened to obey the or- 
 ders of the emperor. The master of the horse was 
 summoned ; relays of posts were commanded to 
 be ready at short distances, along the right bank 
 of the river, on the high road to Lintz. Scarcely 
 had this been done, when the door flew open, and 
 the empress herself, pale as death, and supported 
 by her women, approached, and accosted her royal 
 consort in the utmost alarm. 
 
 *' Can it be true ? — the Turks at Fischausen, 
 and we to leave the city, and rush into destruc- 
 tion V* 
 
 The emperor was not a little alarmed to find his 
 consort already informed of the step he was about 
 to take. 
 
 ** Do not alarm yourself ; it is not so bad ; the 
 Turks are not at Fischausen, though it is true that 
 they are pretty near us." 
 
 ** Alas ! I know all ; the news came at five this 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 morning; our army is annihilated, and we are lost. 
 God deals hardly with us/' 
 
 " They have done very wrong to give you these 
 alarming accounts ; I was just coming to inform 
 you myself, as to the real state of things." 
 
 *' You need not,'' exclaimed the empress, burst- 
 ing into an agony of tears ; " the palace, the whole 
 city resounds with the fearful tidings, — what will 
 become of us, — whither shall we fly ?" 
 
 '* We are going to Lintz," replied the emperor, 
 calmly: ** every thing is arranged, and we shall set 
 out this evening." 
 
 *^ Gracious God ! this evening ; and what is to 
 become of my children ?" 
 
 ** There is not a moment to lose," urged the 
 emperor. 
 
 ** Yes, I see it but too well ; but how, in my 
 wretched state, can I support a journey along the 
 left road ?" 
 
 "- Fear nothing ; we take the high road to the 
 right of the river ; you will have every accommoda- 
 tion, and we shall be in perfect safety, the moment 
 we reach Lintz." 
 
 '* The Turks will soon drive us thence," cried 
 the empress; **once in possession of Vienna ; — 
 and how, in such an ill defended state, can it resist ? 
 Every other place must fall before them." 
 
 The emperor was deeply affected ; he cast an in- 
 quiring look at Zriny ; ** May I not be permitted 
 to accompany your majesty ?" said the count, in a 
 low and trembling tone. 
 
 " How !" cried Leopold, *' would you attend 
 us in our flight ? — I fear we should have small ac- 
 commodation, count.'' 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 227 
 
 " May I venture to follow on horseback ?" he 
 persisted in a manner that showed how deeply he 
 was affected. 
 
 ** You could not, count; we shall proceed too 
 rapidly/' 
 
 ** Oh, yes, permit me only," intreated the 
 count; ** I can doit." 
 
 ** You shall not run any such risk for me, my 
 young friend," replied Leopold; **you are not well; 
 — I have too great regard both for your health and 
 your life ; yet, dear Zriny, whatever may happen, 
 believe me, I feel grateful for your unwearied care 
 and devotion ; — I may never see you more, and I 
 now speak as a friend — not as a master." 
 
 ** Oh my God, my God !" exclaimed the count, 
 thrown off his guard, and concealing his face in 
 his hands ; ** it is too much ! such goodness over- 
 whelms me !" His agitation was terrible. 
 
 '* What can be the matter ; you are taken ill 
 again;" cried the emperor, in the most affectionate 
 manner. " My dear friend, we must have help ; or 
 can it be the misfortunes of myself and family 
 which move you thus? You have an excellent 
 heart ; but we must part, — and if — if we never 
 more meet, may God bless you !" He pressed the 
 count's hands between his own, and a tear stood in 
 the good-natured monarch's eye. The count no 
 longer struggled with his feelings : he threw him- 
 self at the emperor's feet, who in vain attempted 
 to raise him. *' Courage, my friend ; I intreat of you, 
 even for my sake." 
 
 " Blast me not !" exclaimed the wretched Zriny, 
 ** by this excess of goodness. I am unworthy of 
 it — unworthy of being raised up by the hand of 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 my noble sovereign. Let me writhe in the dust ; 
 and, in the very agony of my soul, ask pardon for 
 a criminal !" 
 
 '^ What mean you ? — are you mad, Zriny ?" 
 
 The count was mute ; his head hung upon his 
 knee, and a convulsive trembling seized every 
 limb. His looks were wild and terrible ; and it 
 was but too apparent that his mind wandered. 
 
 " Hasten, madam l" cried Leopold, in great 
 alarm, to the empress, at the same time giving her 
 his hand — ** it is too distressing a sight for you !'* 
 and he conducted her into another apartment. 
 He then hastened back to the count, and, in the 
 most soothing and encouraging manner, sought to 
 raise him from the ground. " Be a man, Zriny ! 
 fear nothing, — all may yet be well !" 
 
 The count suddenly sprang to his feet, and, 
 fixing his wild and haggard looks upon the em- 
 peror, as he recovered his senses for a moment — 
 ** Where have I been ? — Ah ! it is you ! — then 
 fear the worst ; I warn you !" Then, in a milder 
 tone, he added, '' Alas ! sire, I am a traitor ! — 
 go not along the right banks !*' and, bursting into 
 a passion of tears, he again fell at the emperor's 
 feet. 
 
 *' Now, indeed," said Leopold, ** you have lost 
 your senses !'' actually believing it was a con- 
 tinuation of the access by which he had just been 
 attacked. 
 
 *' I know what I am saying, sire. In the name 
 of all that is sacred — all you value most dearly — 
 go not along the high road, I say ; for misfortune 
 and captivity await you, as treachery would have 
 led you thither.'* 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 229 
 
 The emperor started, and recoiled a step or two 
 from Zriny, whose features exhibited all that re- 
 morse and horror can express in the human coun- 
 tenance. '* Why go on raving thus, Zriny ?" 
 replied the emperor ; — '^ did you not advise me 
 yourself to take the high road, as the safest and 
 best V 
 
 " It was I — it was !" he replied, in a stifled 
 tone, and burying his head in his hands. 
 
 *' And now,'' asked the emperor, calmly, ** you 
 wish me not to follow your advice — is that it V 
 
 " Yes ; I beseech you, sire, to abandon the idea; 
 but hasten to pass the Danube — fly by the left 
 bank, and save yourself !" 
 
 *' To meet a routed army !" cried Leopold, in a 
 voice of bitter sorrow. 
 
 *^ Far better than the great road, for there cer- 
 tain destruction awaits you. They are coming — 
 they will seize you !" 
 
 ** Of whom do you speak V inquired the em- 
 peror, perceiving more congruity in the count's 
 language ; at the same time recollecting Stahrem- 
 berg's observations and suspicions ; — ** who are 
 coming ? — Speak ! I command you, unhappy 
 man !'' 
 
 '* I cannot — I dare not ! enough that I warn 
 your majesty at the peril of my life." 
 
 ** I will know," persisted the emperor, *' what 
 I have to expect." 
 
 " No ! let your majesty strike off my head at 
 once, as you did my father's ! — 1 deserve it ; he 
 did not. I am guilty towards you ; and, wretch 
 that I am ! I have betrayed my country. Not a 
 
230 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 word more shall you hear from my lips. Now, 
 to the scaffold !*' 
 
 ** What ! you confess yourself a traitor !'^ cried 
 the emperor, deeply grieved ; — *^ you whom I 
 loved and cherished as my own son !" 
 
 ^' I am that monster of ingratitude !" replied 
 Zriny ; " I am unworthy, too, of my father, and 
 of the unhappy country that gave me birth !" 
 
 ^* Give up your accomplices, sir, — I will know 
 them/' 
 
 ** Never !** replied Zriny ; and he remained 
 silent. 
 
 " Listen, unhappy man ! — I give you my royal 
 word for your life." 
 
 There was no reply. Every passion of the 
 despot and the man now shook the soul of Leopold, 
 and the struggle was severe. Anger, indignation, 
 affection for the unfortunate count, whom he had 
 so long loved, and who had voluntarily rushed 
 into ruin, from a sense of gratitude to his bene- 
 factor, all, by turns, prevailed in the mind of Leo- 
 pold. Gradually the feelings of the father and the 
 friend assumed the sway ; his eyes moistened, his 
 voice softened, and, in the most endearing terms, 
 he sought to encourage the criminal, yet remorse- 
 ful Zriny. It was in vain ; he would receive no 
 consolation ; and he would betray no friends. He 
 wished for death ; the heart of the patriot was 
 broken ; he thought of his father, and of his coun- 
 try's bitter wrongs ; and he stood — the victim of 
 gratitude towards a kind-hearted master, to save 
 whom he had sacrificed more than life itself. 
 
 *' It is well l" cried the emperor, resuming all 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 231 
 
 the feelings of the despot : '^ young madman, you 
 have provoked your fate ; and let it fall upon your 
 devoted head !" He rang the bell ; the chamber- 
 lain appeared. '' Hark you ! quick ; send the 
 officer of the guard !" Both the emperor and the 
 count remained silent till he appeared. Zriny 
 moved not a feature, still in the same attitude. 
 *' Captain, behold your prisoner!" said Leopold, 
 averting his eyes, at the same time, from the un- 
 fortunate count, as if distrusting his own firmness, 
 while he spoke the fatal words. 
 
 The officer appeared surprised, and even agi- 
 tated and alarmed ; for a moment he stood rooted 
 to the spot ; then, hastily approaching the count, 
 he was about to take his sword. Zriny himself 
 prevented it ; and, turning towards Leopold as he 
 retired, he said, " I die, sire, without regret; — 
 I am not an ingrate; you are saved, and God 
 protect you !" 
 
 The tears were in the emperor's eyes ; he could 
 only wave his hand ; but, beckoning the officer to 
 him, he said, in a low voice, ** Take him into his 
 own chambers ; and keep a strict guard, or your 
 head must answer for it !" 
 
 Zriny, accompanied by the officer, left the ca- 
 binet : on descending the steps of the palace, a 
 carriage at full speed approached and drew up. 
 It was General Caprara ; he alighted in haste, 
 ascended the staircase, and required to be instantly 
 admitted to an audience with his majesty. 
 
 He came direct from the army, and the accounts 
 he brought somewhat relieved the anxiety of the em- 
 peror for the fate of the army. He learnt, with sa- 
 tisfaction, that the infantry were retiring in good 
 
232 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 order, along the left banks of the Danube, upon the 
 capital, and that a small body of the cavalry had 
 acquitted themselves in the most brilliant manner. 
 Caprara confessed thathe had lost hisbaggage, which 
 he considered trifling, however, under the circum- 
 stances in which he had been engaged. The em- 
 peror instantly despatched a confidential messenger 
 with these re-assuring tidings to his unhappy consort ; 
 and he then learnt, with equal sorrow and dismay, 
 that Tokely and his associates had appeared in 
 force upon the right banks, with a view, it was 
 ascertained, of possessing themselves, by surprise, 
 of the person of the emperor ; while, on the left, he 
 might pursue his journey in perfect safety, from 
 the circumstance of being protected by the whole 
 force of the imperial army. The commands, there- 
 fore, already given, were promptly counter- 
 manded; a new route was traced out, and the 
 court prepared for instant departure. Tidings of 
 this soon spread throughout the city, producing 
 the utmost excitement and dismay. Numbers of 
 the inhabitants prepared to quit the city ; others 
 were eagerly engaged in secreting their property, 
 while a greater portion seem.ed intent only upon 
 securing their personal safety, or that of their dis- 
 tracted wives and children. 
 
 Before setting out, the grand marshal had been 
 charged by the emperor to seize all the papers 
 belonging to Count Zriny ; and, on following the 
 officer in charge of him, Count Martinitz was both 
 surprised and affected to behold him in a state of 
 mind bordering upon the most decided insanity. 
 Having obtained possession of his keys, with as 
 much gentleness as he could employ, he carried 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 233 
 
 the whole of the manuscripts he could find, after 
 first placing his zeal upon them, to the emperor, 
 informing him also that the count appeared to be 
 in a situation which called for instant medical at- 
 tendance. Leopold received the papers, but said 
 not a word. It was observed, however, that his 
 hand trembled ; and the moment the grand mar- 
 shal retired, he rang for his own physician, whom 
 he desired to hasten with all speed to the house of 
 Count Zriny, and to report his actual state perso- 
 nally to himself on his return. 
 
 But what, during the progress of these events, 
 was the hopeless condition of the antique lady of 
 Volkersdorf? — What, moreover, were her sensa- 
 tions, when her no less venerable maid in waiting 
 suddenly burst into the room, and, in a voice be- 
 tween a scream and a howl, proclaimed that the 
 whole court was taking to flight — that all the 
 state-carriages v/ere in readiness, and that every 
 body that had courage enough, was going to cross 
 the Danube with the court, and seek an asylum in 
 the town of Konnenburg. *' All Vienna," she 
 added, *' had run out into the streets, which were 
 nearly inundated with the people's tears, while the 
 air echoed with groans and sighs to behold the 
 good Leopold leaving his capital. The empress, 
 too, looked as pale as death upon the white horse, 
 and was actually crying; that the emperor's hand, 
 and even his head shook, which she thought a sign 
 of his being paralytic, though he looked as calm 
 and patient as St. Stephen when they were stoning 
 him." 
 
 On hearing this confirmation of her worst fears, 
 the unhappy lady could no longer be kept in any 
 
234 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 bounds; she declared it was all over — ^that the 
 churches would all be turned into mosques, the 
 world over, and the poor Viennese be all converted 
 into Musselmans. She would not stay another mo- 
 ment at Vienna; that Kara Mustapha was only the 
 scourge of God, and that the city was foredoomed to 
 destruction ; orders were forthwith issued to hire 
 relays of horses, and Catherine and the whole 
 household, busied in making momentary arrange- 
 ments, were to think only of packing themselves, 
 instead of their goods and chattels, in the old 
 family vehicle. 
 
 It is impossible to give an idea of the poor lady's 
 horror and vexation, when she heard that no post- 
 horses were to be had. The attendants of the court 
 had retained every one, to the sorriest hack that 
 was to be met with in Vienna. All at once, to her 
 mother's great joy, the gentle Catherine bethought 
 her of the four old family steeds which had trans- 
 ported their lady to the condemned city. They 
 had, luckily, not yet been sent home again ; and why, 
 if they had not died in the interval, might they 
 not travel back again as easily as they had come. 
 This was admirable logic ; but it would not so well 
 apply to the old, crazy, family coach, and the an- 
 tique harness, both of which had suffered by the 
 former journey. The poor countess was terrified 
 out of her wits at the delay ; it was only Cathe- 
 rine who preserved the same noble firmness and 
 presence of mind. Her activity and cheerfulness 
 equalled her other excellent qualities ; and she 
 soon succeeded in allaying her mother's apprehen- 
 sions, and placing every thing in a good train. She 
 then hastened to take farewell of her friend Ma- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 235 
 
 dame de Preysing : ^' My dear girl," said the lat- 
 ter, *' you must pause; news have just arrived, — 
 worse and worse. The enemy has already passed 
 the Zeytha :* and we can see the flames bursting 
 from the villages on the side from which they are 
 advancing. To-morrow we shall see the infidel 
 standards waving under the walls of Vienna. Oh, 
 my love ! the Tartars are already at Bertholsdorf, 
 and I am told they commit the most frightful 
 crimes imaginable. Alas ! every minute brings 
 some tidings worse than the last." 
 
 *^ Oh, my God ! what will become of us ?" cried 
 Catherine. 
 
 *^We must wait with resignation," replied her 
 friend ; '^ but I have another piece of intelligence 
 for you, which touches you more nearly, and will, 
 I fear, give you pain." 
 
 '' Oh, heavens, is it from Warsaw !" exclaimed 
 the poor girl, turning deadly pale, and thinking of 
 Sandor Szlatinski. 
 
 "It is not from Poland, my dear;" and she 
 then informed her of the whole of Tokely's con- 
 spiracy, to surprise and carry off the emperor. 
 ** And, would you believe it ? Count Zriny is one 
 of the traitors !" 
 
 *' Oh ! you terrify me," replied Catherine ; " my 
 poor, poor, sister !" and she burst into a flood of 
 uncontrollable weeping. 
 
 Her friend tried to console, by every means, and 
 half repented having revealed the name of the 
 count. *' There were hopes, too," she continued, 
 *' of the emperor's mercy ; the unfortunate man 
 
 * One of the small rivers which falls into the Danube. 
 
236 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 being in a state of fearful excitement, if not of 
 confirmed insanity." 
 
 ''Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Catherine, 
 ''alone — suffering — and abandoned — not even 
 a wife or a sister. Lost, unhappy Zriny !" 
 
 It was fortunate for Catherine, that she was al- 
 lowed little time for reflection upon this painful 
 event. Active duties called for all her excellent 
 judgment, kindness, and firmness; she had to 
 break the disastrous tidings, in the gentlest man- 
 ner, to her sister ; and she had to attend her mo- 
 ther, under circumstances of the most trying na- 
 ture. Though full of sorrow, she did not despair ; 
 she threw herself on her knees, the moment her 
 friend left her, and poured forth her prayers to 
 Him who can alone assist those, who have none 
 other to help them. She prayed long and fer- 
 vently, and though she wept, they were no longer 
 tears of bitterness, and she felt far more happy 
 and resigned. Wiping away her tears, she rose 
 and approached the window, and gazed wistfully 
 into the streets. Suddenly, she heard some one 
 approach ; she turned round, and started on be- 
 holding a man, dressed like a Greek, with huge 
 moustache, and enveloped in a large cloak. "Who 
 are you ? '' cried Catherine, in evident alarm ; 
 *' and what have you to say to me ? *' 
 
 He threw aside his cloak, and sought to prevent 
 her making her escape ; she struggled, and was 
 about to scream for help, when he said in a low 
 voice, " I am a friend ; — and a friend of the Zriny 
 family. For God*s sake, hear me, and don't cry 
 out ! I am Kolschutzki.'* 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 237 
 
 ** What of Count Zriny ?" replied Catherine, as- 
 suming more confidence. 
 
 ** He is very unfortunate, lady; yet his life is 
 valuable, both to me and others. Alas ! I know 
 him, perhaps better than he knows himself; and 
 had he followed the advice of a faithful servant, 
 he would have avoided the misfortunes which now 
 overwhelm him." 
 
 ** You alarm me ! is it indeed true, that he is 
 a prisoner — for treason ? " 
 
 '* He is his own accuser," replied Kolschutzki ; 
 *^ he had not the heart to commit a crime, though 
 without strength to keep the path of duty." 
 
 Catherine was extremely affected; '* Oh, yes! I 
 am sure he has a good heart ; — he has been his 
 own enemy — " and her sister's name was on her 
 lips. 
 
 " It is at his behest I am now here. My poor 
 young master,^ — for such I must ever consider him, — 
 came to my house, with a letter for the Princess 
 Helena, and, at the same time, left me particular 
 directions regarding yourself." 
 
 " For me ! at a time like this ! " 
 
 ''Yes, my lady; it seems as if he had some 
 presentiment of his fate ; or, having resolved to 
 reveal something to the emperor, he felt he had 
 little time to lose, in consulting for the safety of 
 those most dear to him. He desired me, in the 
 event of a siege, to seek an interview with you ; 
 and, in his name, to offer you my most devoted 
 care and service, to obey you in every particular, 
 and protect you from all risk." 
 
 *' Did he ?— did Count Zriny say that ? Did he 
 
238 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 think of me at such a moment, when so great a 
 calamity hung over him? Noble, generous Zriny!" 
 and it was in vain she sought to conceal her tears. 
 
 '* It was my object/' continued Kolschutzki, *' to 
 see you before, for I knew the pressing nature of 
 my mission. It was only while hastening hither, 
 that I learnt, with grief, his sudden arrest. I ran 
 to the palace, and thence to his mansion ; yet 
 spite of my utmost exertions, I cannot gain access 
 to my unhappy master, for a single moment. He 
 is under the strictest guard, and, to-morrow, is to 
 be conveyed, a state prisoner, to the fortress of 
 KufFstein in the Tyrol. He will never more leave 
 it." 
 
 *' Oh, merciful God!" cried Catherine, 'Ho 
 that horrible receptacle of woe !" 
 
 ** Nothing is now left," said Kolschutzki, '* but 
 to fulfil his last wishes ; and I am here to receive 
 your commands. Would you like to forward some 
 communication to the count ? " 
 
 ** Is it possible? — can that be done?" inquired 
 Catherine. 
 
 *' Nothing is impossible to a determined will, 
 with courage and fidelity.'' 
 
 *' I could wish him to know," returned Cathe- 
 rine, '' that I feel the deepest gratitude, for his 
 extreme kindness and solicitude for my safety ; 
 that I shall never cease to remember him, and 
 offer up unceasing prayers, for his freedom and 
 restoration to those friends, who so truly lament 
 his misfortunes. He will know I allude to my un- 
 happy sister, to whom I must hasten to unfold 
 these afflicting tidings. May I beg of you to for- 
 ward to her a letter from me, without delay ?" 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 239 
 
 *' Without the least difficulty," replied Kols- 
 chutzki ; ^* the count gave me his lady's address ; 
 and I have already sent the despatches which he 
 intrusted to me. But I must not be seen here ; 
 I dare not wait for it ; I know the hour you set 
 out from Vienna; and while passing the Red 
 Tower, an aged-looking mendicant will accost you 
 for alms ; give him the letter, and you will put it 
 into the hands of Kolschutzki." Saying this, and 
 hearing some one approach, the faithful emissary 
 took a respectful leave, with an assurance that 
 she might depend on his keeping his appointment. 
 
240 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The old family equipage was at length patched 
 up, and in readiness, — one only of the four ancient 
 steeds had died, during a town residence ; and 
 the veteran survivors of so unexpected a cam- 
 paign stood with ears erect, and heads turned 
 wistfully in the direction of the old baronial 
 mansion. The good dowager's antique tire- women 
 were already deposited, with two macaws, three 
 monkeys, and as many aged lap-dogs, with a 
 world of paraphernalia, in the huge baskets of the 
 no less ponderous vehicle ; the ladies were also 
 safely encased, and the baroness, eager to escape 
 '• the doomed city,? gave the awful word, — to fly. 
 Conrad, the old coachman, cast a rueful look 
 from his seat at the cruel load of mortality behind 
 him, then at his unhappy steeds, and then at his 
 mistress, before stringing up his nerves to attempt 
 a start. With infinite straining and toiling, the 
 machine at length began to move, dragging its 
 slow length along, till it reached Leopoldstadt, 
 where a strange scene presented itself to the travellers' 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 241 
 
 eyes. Vehicles of every description, goods and 
 chattels, women and children, were alike mingled 
 in one confused mass, — consisting of fugitives, 
 who, in their extreme terror, had blocked up the 
 streets and pathways, uttering cries and lamenta- 
 tions, as if the Turks were already engaged in 
 putting them to the sword. 
 
 As the great coach, at its regular funereal pace, 
 came near, at each turn and jostle in the crowd, 
 it began to creak, and grind, and groan in a most 
 ominous manner. Old Conrad looked aghast ; his 
 steeds made more noise than the great bellows of a 
 blacksmith's forge (two of them were confirmed 
 *' roarers*'), and even the heart of Catherine began 
 to quail, in the belief that every movement would 
 be their last. But *' Quick ! quick ! fly, Conrad ! 
 oh, fly !" was still the burden of her mother's song ; 
 '* let us gallop to Konnenburgh as speedily as 
 possible !" And what will not time and labour 
 accomplish ? — They passed the isles, and the se- 
 cond arm of the Danube, when, suddenly, there 
 burst upon their view the mountain-tops of Kah- 
 lenberg and Leopoldsberg, all fearfully enveloped 
 in flames. 
 
 Flying troops of Tartars, favoured by the dark- 
 ness, had attained the heights, and fired the con- 
 vent of the Camaldoli and the church of St. Leopold. 
 The crackling of the flames mingled with the hor- 
 rid shouts of the barbarians, and the cries of the 
 holy men, whose white robes were seen floating in 
 the wind, along the walls of the edifice, spreading 
 horror far and near through the surrounding 
 gloom. By the light of the flames, they could 
 even be seen falling under the sacrilegious fury of 
 
 K 
 
I 
 
 242 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the invaders, or hurled into the burning ruins ; — 
 a sight followed by the most fearful cries and la- 
 mentations of the beholders, each imagining that 
 a similar fate might be reserved for themselves. 
 Self-preservation became now the only object : 
 the carriages had no sooner succeeded in passing 
 the first bridge, than all began to urge their horses 
 to the uttermost ; and Conrad, among the number, 
 impelled by the incessant appeals of the poor 
 baroness, for the first time in his life, showed no 
 kind of mercy to his ancient baronial chivalry. 
 But there are limits to the most strenuous efforts; — 
 it was clear that the flogging, the roaring, the 
 groaning, the heavy labouring, and creaking of 
 the family vehicle, could not endure for ever. 
 Gradually it swayed and stopped. Conrad again 
 looked back, and declared that it was an impos- 
 sibility, for the most willing of beasts to drag 
 such an unconscionable load of mortal sins, with 
 them there apes and screeching birds, any farther. 
 His lady still protested and conjured him : Conrad 
 relented, and, summoning all his heroism, and 
 that of his horses, he struggled for another move ; 
 and the next moment brought the wheels in con- 
 tact with the ruins of a wagon, which obstructed 
 the way. Awful was the encounter ; he sought 
 to disengage himself; and soon brought matters 
 to a crisis, by upsetting, with hideous crash and 
 din, the entire concern. Extreme alarm and con- 
 fusion, but no dislocated joints, were the result ; 
 for, such was the ponderous and steady character, 
 both of steeds and vehicle, as to oflPer the most de- 
 cided opposition to any sudden and violent mo- 
 tion, from whatever cause it might proceed. The 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 243 
 
 rumbling of packages, the jabberings of monkeys, 
 and the shrieks of macaws, produced the chief 
 part of the sensation and effect, upon this grand 
 finale of their route. One by one, they were taken 
 out of the mighty ruins of the family equipage, 
 alive and unhurt ; but not so was the reputation 
 of old Conrad and his steeds, who hung their heads 
 as if the last of human calamities had befallen 
 them. What was to be done ? — To ride was now 
 out of the question ; not a single traveller came to 
 their assistance ; and the noble-minded Catherine 
 herself was on the brink of despair. 
 
 *' We must return to Vienna, mamma, on foot, 
 as quickly as possible !" 
 
 ^* To the doomed city ! gracious heavens ! the 
 Turks are there ! — Oh, never !" 
 
 *' You forget, mamma, the city is well fortified ; 
 they will find it none so easy I'' was the courageous 
 girl's reply. 
 
 '^ Well ! but they will reach it to-morrow, or 
 the day after, at farthest.'* 
 
 " Yes ; the walls, I dare say ; but the place will 
 stand a good siege !" 
 
 ** But then we shall be sure to meet the Turks 
 at the gates !" 
 
 ** Let us try to get back before they reach ; that 
 is better than to sit in the open air, or seek shelter 
 in villages which can afford us no protection." 
 
 ** We had better resign ourselves to our fate 
 then !'* was the poor lady's reply ; and it was in 
 vain her daughter sought to inspire her with cou- 
 rage sufficient to move a step. The only answer 
 she could obtain was — ** I am resigned; let us 
 die ; the Lord have mercy upon us ! Oh, those 
 R 2 
 
244 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 horrid, horrid Turks! — what will become of us, 
 I wonder ! — shall we be killed or be made 
 slaves ?" 
 
 Catherine made no reply; her ear was intently 
 fixed upon the sound of horses' hoofs at a distance, 
 but every instant advancing rapidly towards them 
 from an opposite direction to that of the city they 
 had left. A light carriage, with four horses at full 
 speed, at length appeared in sight; it drew nigh, — 
 the horses were bathed in foam, and checked not 
 their fiery career till brought close to the cumbrous 
 remains of the old family vehicle. In a moment 
 the traveller had alighted, to assist in opening a 
 passage, wrapped in a large mantle which he threw 
 aside; but perceiving several ladies in apparent 
 distress, he hastened to ascertain the cause, when 
 an exclamation of delight burst from Catherine's 
 lips. 
 
 ** Sandor! — dear Szlatinski!" 
 
 " My Catherine! dearest cousin!" was the an- 
 swer, and the lovers were on the instant, locked in 
 each other's embraces, with a joy too great for 
 words. 
 
 ** Surely,'' at length murmured the happy Ca- 
 therine, disengaging herself from his fervent caress; 
 *' surely, Heaven has sent you in pity to us, — es- 
 pecially to poor mamma!" 
 
 ^* Yes, truly!" cried the lady of Volkersdorf; 
 '' did you ever expect, nephew, to witness a disas- 
 ter in the family like this? Look at us! look at the 
 carriage, the state carriage, — look at our coach 
 horses, — look at old Conrad! he may well hang 
 down his head. But where are you going, my dear 
 boy; will you take us with you ?" 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 245 
 
 *' To Vienna, to be sure!" was the reply; «' I 
 have just left his imperial majesty at Stockerau; 
 and may I ask, aunt, where you are going?" 
 
 ** Not to Vienna, indeed! — you have not heard 
 of our misfortunes. Do you know," she added, in 
 a confidential whisper; '* that the Turks are now at 
 Vienna ?" Sandor started back with an expression 
 of horror and surprise. 
 
 '* The Turks at Vienna ! God in Heaven forbid !" 
 
 " No, no!'' interrupted Catherine; ** they are 
 not there yet; and will not be for some time." 
 
 ** Well!" replied Sandor, recovering his breath; 
 " I thought it could not be; the bulwark of Chris- 
 tianity will never fall before the miscreant infidels, 
 while a Pole or a Hungarian can wield a sword." 
 
 ** You speak," exclaimed Catherine, in some 
 surprise, ^' as if you were a soldier, Szlatinski." 
 
 *' I am a soldier," returned her lover, eagerly; 
 ** I am captain of Hulans, in the regiment of King 
 Sobieski himself." 
 
 *' What !" exclaimed the baroness ; ^* you serve 
 the king of Poland, — you have become unfaithful 
 to the best of emperors." 
 
 ** What an idea, my dear aunt ! we serve the 
 same God, and the same cause; it is a good and 
 a just one! But tell me, in the name of all the 
 saints, — what do you here — at midnight — on foot ; 
 and in such a plight ?" 
 
 " What do we, indeed," replied his aunt ; '* I 
 am sure 1 don't know. It is our fate ; but I will 
 give the whole history of our misfortunes since we 
 saw you !" — and she was beginning a strange ramb- 
 ling rhapsody, which he was obliged to break ofF. 
 
 ** Tell it me in my carriage, dear aunt: — it is ill- 
 
246 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 adapted for ladies ; but it is worth a great many of 
 these old demolished machines," pointing at the 
 ancient family reliques, over which Conrad was 
 mentally pronouncing the last funeral oration ; his 
 horses, as still as death, apparently joining in doing 
 the last honours to their natural companion through 
 life, however glad to get rid of the infernal luggage 
 with which it had been loaded, inside and out. 
 
 '' Sandor," said the baroness, mournfully, *^ you 
 ought to speak with more respect of family affairs \" 
 as her eye rested on the gilded pannel. 
 
 " Yes ; and especially of the dead,'* he added 
 with a smile, as his eye followed that of the coun- 
 tess, and then rested upon Conrad and his brutes. 
 '* We are not dead, sir," said Conrad, looking 
 up mournfully ; ** we are only resting — quite still 
 after such hurly-burly, and the poor beasts are 
 rather melancholy over the fall." 
 
 '' The fall, indeed!" said the old lady; '' I shall 
 never forget it, Conrad." 
 
 ** I think I could drive your ladyship back to 
 Vienna! God willing," was Conrad's reply; " if we 
 had a smith here, and a few poles and axles." 
 
 *'That, I am sure, you never shall," returned the 
 indignant lady ; "■ if you had a hundred poles and 
 axles. You may keep them for the Turks. You 
 shall never drive that carriage, with me in it, any 
 more." 
 
 '' I don't think he will," interrupted Sandor, 
 finding she was going to attack the old coachman ; 
 ** let him mount my box, and we will lose no more 
 time. Come, fear not, — Sobieski is in full march 
 with his Poles; — Hungary, — all Germany is up; 
 we shall have a glorious fight and victory ; and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 247 
 
 then I will talk to you, dear aunt, and to our sweet 
 Catherine. Let us return to Vienna quickly. He 
 read approval in the bright delicious glance of his fair 
 cousin, whose whole heart warmed and leapt to the 
 young hero as he spoke; such is the strange fasci- 
 nation of bravery and devotion over woman's love ! 
 That look thrilled through his frame, as she gave 
 him her hand ; he lifted her into his carriage, and 
 then turning to her lady mother, inquired if she were 
 desirous that they two should proceed alone ; for 
 if such were her determination, it could not be 
 helped. 
 
 ** Oh no ! by no means ; I shall go with my 
 daughter ; — oh dear ! I shall never rest till father 
 Isidor comes back, and I see poor Catherine safe 
 in a nunnery;'' and she seated herself by the side 
 of the fair girl, as if she had wholly forgotten there 
 were any Turks in the world. But the carriage 
 was small, as well as light, and they were as close 
 to each other, spite of all she could do, as any two 
 loving travellers could be. Sandor's bosom beat 
 high with delight, — one of his arms encircled his 
 fair cousin, — her hand was in his, and they were 
 absorbed in a dumb conversation of hearts and 
 souls, worth whole volumes of mere words. 
 
 *' Who could have persuaded me, this morning," 
 he at length observed, '* that I could be made thus 
 happy to-night?" 
 
 ** And where were you this morning, nephew. 
 if I may ask ?" 
 
 *' To be sure you may; I was on the high road 
 from Silesia. I had been to see the good emperor 
 Leopold." 
 
 *^ And why do not you say, our good emperor, 
 
248 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 sir ! but I suppose you are in the service of a foreign 
 prince, and no longer his subject." 
 
 " You are hard upon me, aunt ; I serve in the 
 army which is at hand, to serve and to save him. 
 You know I have estates in Poland ; yet it is not 
 that; it is my admiration — my veneration — my 
 heart's devotion to the great Sobieski, — not only 
 as a great monarch, but as a far greater man.'' 
 
 *'A11 very fine, that!" retorted the old lady, 
 ** but I remember that my dear deceased baron, 
 often told me a good deal about the inhuman 
 cruelties of your hero, committed at Chor-zym. 
 Eh?" 
 
 **That is perhaps the sole thing which shades 
 a little the lustre of his fame ; and there is 
 much to excuse even that little. The Turks had 
 treated his family with inhumanity ; he avenged 
 the manes of his sire, of his dearest relatives ; and 
 hence, too^ his inextinguishable hatred against the 
 infidels, — the enemies of Christianity, and of the 
 world." 
 
 ** He is an instrument in the hands of Provi- 
 dence; if his hatred helpa to protect us, it is so far 
 good," observed the baroness in a solemn tone. 
 
 *' Yes," added Catherine ; *' and the breaking 
 down of the great family coach seems providential 
 too ; without that we should have been at Kon- 
 nenburgh, and cousin Sandor at Vienna, by this 
 time." 
 
 '* Yes," exclaimed Sandor, '^ thank God, it is 
 broke, and no longer of any use." 
 
 ^' What folly, what wickedness to talk so," 
 grumbled the old lady ; " to bless Heaven, indeed, 
 that we met with an accident that stopped our 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 249 
 
 flight, though of course we are glad to see your 
 cousin Sandor, my dear.'* 
 
 '' Not so much of a flight, mamma; we did not 
 go above a mile an hour, I think," said Catherine 
 with a smile, *' and 1 dare say, the way to Kon- 
 nenburgh; was dreadfully impeded by similar 
 accidents." 
 
 " It is, indeed," observed Sandor ; ** the con- 
 fusion and wretchedness exceeds all belief; it is a 
 most fortunate event, that I met with you, I am 
 sure." 
 
 *' It matters not ; I shall set out again to-morrow," 
 interrupted the baroness ; '^ I dare say, the road 
 will be clear enough by then." 
 
 *' Oh, yes ! for the Turks," added Sandor, with 
 a malicious smile ; ^' for if Vienna were to fall, 
 there can be no security in other parts," 
 
 ** Heaven help us ! I suppose then, we must resign 
 ourselves to our fate in the doomed city," said the 
 lady; *' we shall all become slaves or victims to the 
 barbarous Turks ; — what a fate ! there we shall see 
 that terrible grand signer ; — that horrid serail, — and 
 I know not what !" 
 
 ** Let us hope better things !" said Sandor, very 
 earnestly. 
 
 *' Oh, yes! let us hope," repeated Catherine in 
 a fervent and supplicatory tone. *' While thus con- 
 versing, they approached the city — where obstacles 
 of every kind began to impede their progress. But 
 the uniform of a Polish officer of distinction, every 
 where opened a path, and excited the attention of 
 all ranks, arriving as he did, express from Warsaw, 
 with the military colours waving from his courier's 
 standard. The hope that their brave deliverers, 
 
250 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 
 
 headed by the first warrior of his age, were in full 
 march from Poland, seemed to allay the general 
 panic, and to stem the tide of fugitives, rushing to 
 escape through every outlet from Vienna. His 
 carriage was followed by an immense throng of 
 inquirers, who filled the air with acclamations, till 
 it stopped at the door of Madame von Preysing. 
 Both Catherine and the baroness were deeply sen- 
 sible of this mark of kindness ; for their deliverer 
 had not yet waited upon the commander of the city, 
 being resolved himself to see them restored in safety 
 to their anxious friends. His lovely cousin thanked 
 him in a manner the most gratifying to his feelings ; 
 and while the silly old lady threw herself into the 
 arms of her friend, half distracted between fright 
 and folly, Sandor pressed his beloved one to his 
 bosom, and besought her to resist, to the uttermost, 
 the design of immuring her in a convent, and blast- 
 ing his hopes for ever. Then, with one rapturous 
 kiss, he tore himself away, to hasten the delivery 
 of his dispatches, not without the promise of re- 
 turning early on the morrow. 
 
 It was long that night ere Catherine closed her 
 eyes ; the sweet retrospect of the few last hours of 
 that fearfully agitating day, held her thoughts as if 
 spell-bound by some new and irresistible power. 
 The same vision hovered round her pillow, when, at 
 last she sunk in slumber; — and they were not visions 
 of thecloister ; — for she dreamed only of Szlatinski, — 
 now rushing to her rescue, — and now pouring in 
 her ear renewed protestations of passionate, un- 
 alterable affection. But she awoke to sad and 
 fearful realities ; — all the circumstances attending 
 upon a sudden and terrific siege, and a struggle for 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 251 
 
 freedom, religion, and even existence. Houses 
 were demolished on all sides ; the stones of the 
 streets were torn up, and barricades erected at nar- 
 row intervals, as if intended to dispute the imperial 
 city, inch by inch, with the hordes of barbarous 
 infidels. Every advantageous spot was converted 
 into a little citadel ; loop-holes were made in the 
 houses, which were provided with different kinds of 
 defence, in order to prolong the contest, should the 
 walls be carried by storm. As Catherine looked 
 forth, she beheld a troop of students, with drums 
 beating and colours flying, to call forth all those 
 who chose to enrol themselves in their sacred band. 
 The officers of police went knocking from door to 
 door, to learn whether the private dwellings were all 
 supplied with water, in case of sudden conflagra- 
 tion, and with leather and woollen bags to resist 
 the balls. The different trades were toiling night 
 and day in their several departments, and the 
 strange concert of wild and terrific sounds fell fear- 
 fully upon the ear, breathing only of death and 
 destruction. The heart of Catherine sunk within 
 her; and, alas ! Sandor could not remain near her; 
 lie must hurry to join the foremost ranks, and lead 
 on his regiment of heroic Poles, to fresh fields of 
 victory, or perish before the ruins of the Christian 
 capital. She knew it ; and she burst into an agony 
 of tears, as she thought of their final parting; her 
 woman*s heart of love conjuring up a thousand 
 appalling "perils, from which she conceived it im- 
 possible he would ever escape. While thus ab- 
 sorbed in passionate woe, her chamber door was 
 flung suddenly open ; and pale and haggard as the 
 ghost of famine, the poor baroness ran towards her, 
 
252 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 with difficulty articulating, ^'They come! they 
 come ! !" 
 
 ** Who come V exclaimed Catherine, shocked at 
 the ghastly appearance of her mother, who threw 
 herself on the couch in a fit of the most determined 
 despair, hiding her face under the bed-clothes, and 
 still muttering, *' They come ! they come !" 
 
 " Who — who? for mercy's sake, speak, mamma ! 
 oh, speak to me !" 
 
 ** Turks to be sure, you foolish girl !" cried the 
 countess, jumping up again, half angry she should 
 be misunderstood on such a point : — *^ the Turks, I 
 say ! who else should come ? They are here ; they 
 are walking in the town. I always said it would 
 come to pass." 
 
 ** Impossible, madam 1 the gates are all closed, 
 and well barricaded." 
 
 **They have just knocked them all down with 
 their horrid cannon I" 
 
 ** Well, mamma ; but we should have heard 
 them, at least." 
 
 " I wonder how you can dispute with me ! — don't 
 you hear their music now ? eh, don't you ? — what 
 is that ? — and that ? — and that ?" 
 
 Catherine listened, and she certainly heard mu- 
 sic : it was that of a march : ** it is an Austrian 
 regiment ; I know the march : pray, mamma, try 
 to compose yourself, if that be the sole ground of 
 .your alarm." 
 
 *' How stupid you are, Catherine ; when I tell 
 you that our whole army has been massacred, — 
 destroyed. They must, therefore, be Turks ; they 
 are Turks, and we are undone !" The poor lady 
 then wrung her hands, pulled her hair, and throw- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 253 
 
 ing herself upon the floor, twisted and distorted her 
 venerable body into as many ludicrous forms and 
 attitudes, as the best practised merry-andrew of 
 the most polished court. Her nephew, at that 
 moment, entering the room, she mistook him for a 
 savage Tartar, and hid her face once more in her 
 hands ; and when undeceived, her joy became as 
 extravagant as her fear had before been ; for she 
 was informed of the arrival of the Austrian cavalry, 
 under command of the good Duke of Lorraine. 
 Hardly had Szlatinski re-assured her, when the 
 lady of Dunerwald also joined them, calling out 
 with a joyous air, ** Good news, good news ! my 
 friends ! the duke has arrived; he has come to 
 protect us; the people are all in a whirl of joy !'* 
 
 ** He protect us ! he cannot do it !" insisted the 
 baroness, still incredulous ; ** and I wish to Heaven, 
 I were safe back at my dear castle of Clamm. I 
 wish I were only out of the doomed city/' 
 
 '' Indeed, mamma, I believe it would be the 
 best, if you terrify yourself so.*' 
 
 *' Yes ; I perceive you wish me to go, my dear, 
 because I have frightened you a little ; but I have 
 promised father Isidor, that I would see you placed 
 safely in a nunnery ; and we must think of that 
 before I go ; it can be done while your cousin 
 Sandor is here;" saying which, the restless and 
 troubled old lady flung out of the room in a pet. 
 
 " There goes my aunt," observed Szlatinski ; 
 ** and I am sorry for it; for 1 was just going to 
 ask, if you would like to accompany me, and 
 see the passage of our brilliant cavalry, as well as 
 to share the public joy." 
 
 " How I should wish it of all things !" exclaimed 
 
254 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Catherine; ** but I sadly fear it is impossible;" 
 and so she found it, the baroness resisting the 
 united intreaties of her friends, until Madame de 
 Preysing at length, extorted a reluctant consent 
 for Catherine, upon the express conditions of accom- 
 panying her, and never for a moment permitting 
 her to be out of her sight. Catherine was delighted. 
 
 Upon their way, Sandor acquainted his fair 
 cousin, that he had seen the commander, Count 
 Stahremberg, and that he was to hold himself in 
 readiness to set out early the next morning. 
 
 " To-morrow ! — say not so, dear Sandor; surely 
 not to-morrow ! Have I not one happy day V 
 
 " Ah, Catherine ! you know not the life of a soldier, 
 andof a minister, too; how fuUof anxiety and care." 
 
 *^ Alas I know it not ! Szlatinski ; but I know 
 what itis to be left, abandoned by those dear to me, 
 to feel myself alone. And you too, can form no 
 idea, how much 1 am in need of a friend, of a 
 protector, of — of, my cousin;" she added in a 
 more hesitating tone. 
 
 Szlatinski was all gratitude and tenderness, 
 seeking by every method in his power, to console 
 and re-assure her. He directed her attention to 
 the splendid edifice of St. Stephen, the venerable 
 and imposing appearance of which, with the trea- 
 sures of art it contained, were an object of wonder 
 to the stranger, and of pride to the inhabitants of 
 the imperial city. While engaged in admiring its 
 architectural and other beauties, a young officer, 
 remarkable for his fine figure, and handsome fea- 
 tures, joined their party, and accosted the lady of 
 Dunerwald. He wore the imperial uniform ; his 
 name was Scalvinoni ; he was first aide-de-camp 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 256 
 
 of Count Stahremberg ; and as such presented to 
 Catherine and her cousin. From the moment he 
 beheld her, he seemed struck with the charms of 
 one whom he pronounced, in a whisper to his fair 
 friend, just loud enough to be heard, the loveliest 
 woman he had ever beheld ; and he began to pay 
 her the most marked attention. His manner was 
 at once the most captivating and respectful ; he was 
 considered the handsomest man of his age ; and 
 Szlatinski, who could bear no comparison in point 
 of person with him, seemed greatly annoyed by 
 his continued assiduity, and gallant demeanour. 
 
 At length, Scalvinoni offered to conduct the 
 party to a much more advantageous station, which, 
 as first aide-de-camp, he had the power to do, from 
 which they might behold the whole army pass in 
 files before them. There was so much good-nature 
 and affability in his manner, that the offer was 
 somewhat indiscreetly accepted by the lady of 
 Dunerwald ; and it was so disposed, that Catherine 
 was partly under the escort of the noble young 
 aide-de-camp. 
 
 During the entire scene, he ceased not to make 
 himself as agreeable as possible ; a deportment as 
 much contrasted, as his fine person, with the sombre 
 air, and quick, and abrupt, if not jealous words, 
 and glances of the less imposing Szlatinski. Upon 
 the party retiring, the handsome officer would not 
 be satisfied without seeing the ladies safe back to 
 their mansion, where Sandor, also, with a cold ab- 
 stracted air, bade the ladies adieu, and withdrew 
 along with the handsome Austrian. There was 
 something cold and harsh in the farewell of her 
 cousin, which struck both Catherine and her 
 
256 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 friends ; tlie latter rallied her upon her conquest of 
 the young hussar ; and as if conscience-smitten for 
 a moment, however slight the cause, she withdrew 
 to her own room, far more wretched than she had 
 left it. She felt a strange presentiment of some 
 danger, as she recalled to mind the jealous indig- 
 nant looks which passed between the two officers 
 upon taking leave of her ; and she blamed herself for 
 having one moment lent her ear to the captivating 
 flattery of Scalvinoni. She passed a wretched 
 day, and, absorbed in these painful feelings, she 
 scarcely heard a carriage drive rapidly up to the 
 door, from which alighted the object of all her 
 conflicting hopes and fears, and in a few minutes 
 she found herself in the presence of Szlatinski. 
 He was in his travelling-dress, looked excessively 
 pale and hurried, and said that being suddenly 
 summoned away, he was come to take final leave. 
 
 '' Is it so indeed !" cried the startled girl, ^* and 
 have you already transacted business with Count 
 Stahremberg ?" 
 
 ** I am come from the count's this instant ; and 
 I must depart.'' 
 
 ** You look ill and unhappy, Sandor, how did he 
 receive you ?" 
 
 '' How should he receive me V* replied Szlatinski ; 
 '* if we do our duty, a superior officer ought always 
 to be satisfied." 
 
 ** But I have heard that Stahremberg is abrupt 
 in his manner." 
 
 ** I have no reason to complain of him," returned 
 her cousin, coolly. 
 
 ** And of whom, then?" asked Catherine, timidly, 
 and in an anxious tone. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 257 
 
 ** Of whom ? — of no one,*' he replied, with an 
 expression of forced indifference. *' I make no 
 complaint ; circumstances compel me to leave 
 Vienna this evening, and I must again call at the 
 governor's for my despatches." 
 
 " This evening ! oh, Sandor, and you can speak 
 of it thus coldly V 
 
 *' It is the lot of us soldiers, you know, Cathe- 
 rine,'' taking her hand in his ; '' the count has 
 given orders for the bridges to be broken, and I 
 must first leave the city." 
 
 ** Yes ; but they are not to be destroyed till to- 
 morrow ; don't you remember Scalvinoni told us 
 so ; and he knows all that is done ?" 
 
 Her lover's brow grew dark, and he was silent. 
 At length he said, ^* Oh ! I dare say you will not 
 want company when 1 am gone? Scalvinoni will 
 doubtless call upon the baroness, and give you 
 tidings of all that is taking place ; for he knows 
 every thing," he added, in a more bitter and ironical 
 tone. 
 
 Catherine started. " Szlatinski !" she exclaimed, 
 fixing her eyes intently upon his, *^ you seem 
 much changed ; there is something I do not under- 
 stand ; something has disturbed you ; tell me 
 what?" 
 
 ** I cannot tell you, Catherine ; but you will 
 perhaps hear of it." 
 
 *' How you distress me ! oh, Sandor, you 07ice 
 told me that you loved me." 
 
 ** Once told you !" repeated her lover, his brow 
 growing yet darker. 
 
 '' Yes, you once looked on me as your betrothed; 
 is that all over ?" 
 
 s 
 
258 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 *^ Ah ! you wish it then, ungrateful, ungenerous 
 Catherine !" 
 
 '^ What is it I hear ? I no longer know you, 
 Sandor ! Are you jesting, or do you really want to 
 nsist — to destroy me ? Alas ! then no refuge is 
 left me but a convent/' 
 
 '* It is not the convent, I fear ! No, you have no 
 thoughts of that." 
 
 '^ And what then ? in Heaven's name ! speak 
 what you think?" 
 
 '' I need not — ask your own heart ; it will teach 
 you how to avoid the convent ; they will not easily 
 force you to take the veil." 
 
 ** They will ! and you — you too will drive me to 
 do it ; you know not half I have suffered ; — the 
 tears and entreaties of my mother ; the threats of 
 father Isidor — and he is expected again every mo- 
 ment. It was for your sake, and this is my reward!'' 
 
 ** Hear me, Catherine ! has your affection for 
 me never undergone a change ? I charge you speak 
 — has never a treacherous thought or wish swerved 
 from the woman's faith you vowed me ?" 
 
 *' So help me Heaven ! — but what is it, Sandor, 
 you would say ?" 
 
 ** That I perhaps behold you for the last time ! 
 you have loved — you still think, possibly, you love 
 me ; but after our excursion of this morning, it is 
 my duty, ere I leave, to put you on your guard 
 against the designs of one of the most daring, as 
 well as the most successful and captivating, as he 
 is called, of men. I like not the lady of Duner- 
 wald, and her introductions ; — do you understand 
 me now ? — did you not understand me before ?" 
 
 " What dare you insinuate ! what idea have you 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 259 
 
 formed of me ?'' cried the agitated girl, indignant 
 at the tone of his strange question. 
 
 " None that ought to offend you. I am merely 
 speaking of possibilities — when I am gone V 
 
 ** Do you wish to part, then ; to consign me to 
 a convent ; or shall I renew the vows already 
 made ? for Heaven's sake, speak !" 
 
 '' Your word would be enough, Catherine ; but 
 is it not folly to pledge your heart and feelings for 
 the future? You well know how I have loved you. 
 From very childhood I was distractedly fond of 
 you ; I was your early and sole companion ; — my 
 affection grew with us, — when a girl you were the 
 day-dream of my youth, — I was distracted with 
 my passion for you, — your father saw it; — and 
 when you burst upon me in all your ripened, irre- 
 sistible beauties, you know that father gave you to 
 me — you were my betrothed bride, — I felt you 
 were dear to me as the life blood of my heart, — I 
 never suspected you for a moment. It was I op- 
 posed your being immured in a cloister; and I will 
 still do it; and spite of all, you shall be free, 
 Catherine ; even though you bestow yourself upon 
 another V 
 
 " Another !" exclaimed Catherine, in evident 
 alarm, — *' this is terrible, Sandor! have I merited 
 such an accusation ?*' 
 
 *' Remember Count Zriny, cousin ; and do not 
 be too confident." 
 
 Catherine hung her head and wept. '' I thought," 
 she murmured, '^ that you had forgiven me — I 
 never — never loved any one as I love you now ;'* 
 and she dropped her head upon his shoulder, and 
 sobbed aloud. What magic was in those words ! 
 s2 
 
260 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 He snatched lier to his bosom, and covered her with 
 his tears and caresses. Their lips met, and with 
 one long rapturous kiss the reconciliation was com- 
 pleted and sealed for ever. It was now for the 
 first time the breathless girl discovered that her 
 lover's arm was in a sling ; the blood fled from her 
 cheeks — she could not speak ; but fixed her speak- 
 ing and anxious eyes upon her lover. *' It is no- 
 thing," he said ; *' it is all over now, — Scalvinoni 
 lives ; and I no longer fear him/' 
 
 *' Oh heavens ! and you have fought then ; you 
 are wounded '/* 
 
 '* It is nothing, I repeat ; and you say nothing of 
 Scalvinoni !" and the enraptured lover once more 
 overwhelmed her with his tender and grateful ca- 
 resses. '* He is safe," he went on; '' and you delight 
 me because you made no inquiry, dear Catherine." 
 
 *' And what madness could have urged you to so 
 wild an attempt?" 
 
 '* The bare idea of losing the most charming of 
 women, sweet Catherine ; and now, welcome for- 
 tune, and w^elcome war in its sternest mood ; I 
 bear about me a spell in the love and prayers of 
 my betrothed bride !" 
 
 ** Yes, dear, dear Sandor ; I can tell you now, — 
 it is long since I have daily gone to the oratory of 
 St. Stephen, and ceased not to weary Heaven with 
 supplications for your safety : — they were heard." 
 
 '* But it is yours we must now think of, dearest; 
 for father Isidor is at hand ; his influence over 
 your mother is without bounds ; his power, — and 
 in Vienna too, — almost irresistible. There is only 
 one method of defeating his object ; forgive me for 
 now insisting upon it ; for if I leave you alone here. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 261 
 
 you are lost. They have means of compelling you 
 to enter the cloister, and the sole resistance we can 
 offer is our speedy union, — you must be mine ere 
 I quit the city." 
 
 ** I thought you told me, you were setting out 
 on the moment," replied the agitated Catherine. 
 
 ** I can delay it till the morrow ! You will, — 
 you must give me your hand, if you wish to save 
 yourself from the slow consuming sorrows of a cell; 
 and the same chapel that received your suppli- 
 cations for me, shall witness the holy ceremony. 
 You can go at the hour of prayer ; and I have a 
 priest and friend ready to perform the blessed office. 
 It will now be seen if you really love me." 
 
 *' Cruel, cruel Szlatinski, — what can I, — what 
 ought I to say ? — and mamma not even to know of 
 it. — Oh ! indeed, indeed, I dare not do it." 
 
 *' But you will ; or you behold me, dear Cathe- 
 rine, for the last time." 
 
 ** Unkind Sandor ! — but be it all as you will ; 
 — you shall not reproach me, — I cannot bear it :" 
 and the gentle girl murmured out her blushing con- 
 sent upon her lover's bosom. 
 
 That evening they were united in the oratory of 
 St. Stephen's, and the farewell scene of the ensu- 
 ing morning, between the young bride and her hus- 
 band, presented a strange contrast to the meeting 
 of the lovers on the preceding day. It was full of 
 confiding affection and tenderness, and if Catherine 
 shed tears, they were no longer tears of unmingled 
 bitterness; She no longer, moreover, dreaded a 
 convent ; her step was light; her heart was buoyant 
 with love and hope, and a spirit of deep and quiet 
 joy, inspired every word and look, and threw a 
 
262 THE SIEGE OI' VIENNA. 
 
 fresh grace and charm over her whole appearance. 
 Alas, she little dreamed how brief would be the 
 hopes she nourished, as she watched the receding 
 form of the being she most loved, hastening to min- 
 gle once more in the stern array of war. Scarcely 
 had Szlatinski passed the threshold of the mansion, 
 when he saw as hastily approaching it the figure of 
 the very man who had excited his deadly jealousy, 
 and had met him in bitter strife; and the expression 
 of triumphant love which passed over his face, was 
 as quickly succeeded by a pang. As they ap- 
 proached each other, a smile of recognition gave 
 way to one of half defiance, and it seemed doubtful 
 whether either would be the first to speak. But 
 Szlatinski accosted him, and held out his hand : 
 
 *' Let the past be forgotten ; — I was, I fear, in 
 fault yesterday ; — I owe it to you to confess it; 
 — ^you are going to the Baroness of Volkersdorf, — 
 there can be no misconception now." 
 
 " I am going to see Catherine Volkersdorf, sir ; 
 — I know not why I should not, — I " 
 
 " Then I can tell you, she is engaged, — affi- 
 anced to me, — and has long been so.'' 
 
 " Perhaps longer than she will continue so," was 
 the somewhat ironical reply; *' 'in love and war,' 
 you know, sir ; I need not quote for one of your 
 learning and experience." 
 
 ** You are pleased to jest, — but this is a serious 
 subject ; and I expect that you will give me your 
 word of honour as a soldier and a gentleman, that 
 you will desist from visiting here." 
 
 " That I assuredly will not ; — I shall visit her as 
 often as I please." 
 
 " That you dare not, and shall not do, sir ! I 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 263 
 
 consider the young lady as my wife. She is mine, 
 and mine she shall be !" 
 
 '' You should add, so long as it may be the lady's 
 good pleasure, and perhaps mine. — I will have no 
 dictation except from the lovely Catherine's own 
 lips ; and I do not think she will be so very cruel.'* 
 
 *' Villain ! coward ! draw !" exclaimed Szla- 
 tinski ; '* but stop ! follow me where I may chas- 
 tise your insolence without fear of interruption." 
 
 '* Vain, presuming Pole !" retorted the Aus- 
 trian : " thy life shall be the forfeit of those words, 
 and then who shall gainsay me to win and wear thy 
 pretty mistress, and tame her, like my hawk, till 
 she obey my every call ?" 
 
 '* Poor boaster ! seek not to put off thy evil 
 hour ; my rapier's point shall answer thee." 
 
 With quick step and angry eye, the fiery rivals 
 traversed the streets, till they passed the suburbs, 
 where Szlatinski's carriage was waiting his arrival. 
 Here laying down their sabres, Szlatinski took from 
 a sword-case, two rapiers of pure Toledan manu- 
 facture, of exactly equal length, and very firmly, 
 as well as brilliantly set. He next called his con- 
 fidential valet, and bidding him follow, withdrew 
 to the skirts of an adjacent wood, where the green- 
 sward was firm and dry, and giving his rival the 
 choice of position, deliberately began to strip. 
 His rival did the same. 
 
 " This officer," addressing his domestic, '* has 
 no friend here ; you are a man of honour, Kol- 
 schutzki ! and I need say no more ; you will pro- 
 vide him my swiftest horse if he survive, and you 
 will hasten with my despatches for Warsaw. " 
 
 '* I will, my lord; — I understand you! but is 
 
264 THE SIEGE or VIENNA. 
 
 there no way," he added, in a low tone to himself, 
 as he measured with gloomy eye, the imposing 
 height and sinewy frame of Scalvinoni, '' my mas- 
 ter is a dead man." 
 
 '* And now, sir,'' exclaimed Szlatinski, ** one of 
 us leaves not this spot alive ! I will give you no 
 quarter, and I will take none.'' 
 
 '* You shall not, sir ; you shall be satisfied ! — 
 do you wish to pray ?" 
 
 The young Pole's reply was at the point of his 
 weapon ; hand to hand, and foot to foot, com- 
 menced the fierce and deadly assault. All that 
 individual skill and strength could summon into 
 mortal action, was displayed to view. The length 
 of arm, and vigour of the Austrian, gave him 
 fearful odds ; but his rival had calculated upon it, 
 and preserved his coolness. Still he gave ground, 
 as if unable to resist the fury of his rival's onset, 
 who had made several passes, and seemed con- 
 fident of success. Receiving and parrying his 
 thrusts, the Pole still acted on the defensive, till 
 irritated and half breathless, the Austrian at- 
 tempted to beat down his guard, and wounded his 
 rival in the left arm. Szlatinski, indignant at the 
 base attempt, and the sight of his own blood, 
 changed his plan, no longer confining his efforts 
 merely to elude those of his adversary. He stood 
 his ground, returning lounge for lounge, — the com- 
 bat was equal and deadly. He several times 
 wounded Scalvinoni, and pressing the attack with 
 incessant vigour, caused the Austrian to give 
 ground in turn. Aware that breath and strength 
 were alike failing him, he made desperate efforts to 
 recover his ground, and at last passed his sword 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 265 
 
 through Szlatinski's side, and in the same lounge 
 received his rival's in the groin, before he had 
 time to draw out his own rapier. The Austrian 
 fell, leaving his weapon actually sticking in the 
 body of his hated rival. 
 
 Kolschutzki making a signal for the rest of his 
 lord's suite to come forward, ran and caught him 
 in his arms as he staggered a few steps, as if at- 
 tempting to reach his faithful servant. 
 
 ** My poor, poor master!" he exclaimed, ** you 
 are sadly, deadly hurt, I fear ; oh, my God ! what 
 shall we do ?" 
 
 " Draw the rapier," said his master, ^' and I 
 shall then be better ; but tell Catherine, if I die, 
 how I loved — how I thought only of her — request- 
 ed life for her alone. Now draw the weapon." 
 
 " No, beware of that," cried Kolschutzki, *^ till 
 the surgeon is at hand to stem the blood, or you 
 might die instantly." 
 
 **Then convey me as I am, for I should like to 
 live to see my beloved wife once more ; let no one 
 draw it out, my friend, but be quick — carry me to 
 the mansion of the Lady Dunerwald. Yet first see 
 that a surgeon is called to yonder wounded man ; 
 he fell first. It was for her I fought — and for her 
 I conquered." 
 
 His orders were speedily obeyed ; he was borne 
 back to the city, into the mansion he had that 
 morning left in the full bloom and vigour of man- 
 hood. At the moment he was brought in, she for 
 whom he thus suffered, was perusing with fond and 
 passionate devotion, some of Sandor's early letters 
 to her. A noise was heard in the hall, strange 
 voices — confusion — lamentation; and at length 
 
266 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 shrieks broke upon her ear ; and her mother, with 
 looks of terror, and dishevelled tresses, burst into 
 the room. 
 
 *' You must come — you must see him before he 
 dies ; he says he cannot breathe his last sigh with- 
 out seeing you. Oh! make haste! Sandor, my 
 dear nephew, — he is killed !'' 
 
 Catherine heard no more ; one wild-piercing cry 
 burst from her lips, and she fell senseless at her 
 mother's feet. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 267 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The 14th of July had scarcely dawned, when the 
 thunder of the cannon on the ramparts, from the 
 gate of Slubenthor, to that of Carinthia, startled 
 the citizens of Vienna from their slumbers, an- 
 nouncing that the dreaded enemy were under her 
 walls. Some hurried to the bastions, others mount- 
 ed the roofs of houses, and the towers and churches 
 teemed with the living mass, all eager to ascertain 
 the latest tidings, and what they had to hope or 
 to fear.* The terrific spectacle of the immense 
 armies of the infidels, spread far and wide over the 
 plains, presented itself to their view. The fire had 
 been opened upon their advanced guard, which 
 had pushed as far as St. Mark's, and extended 
 itself over the heights, and behind the buildings, 
 which had fallen a prey to the flames during the 
 preceding night. Hordes of Tartars could be per- 
 ceived even as far as the mountains bordering on 
 the March, and the Zeytha, and to the right of the 
 declivities of the Wienenberg. The whole vicinity 
 
 * The whole of what follows is strictly historical. 
 
268 
 
 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 seemed alive with moving columns of Ottomans, 
 with the dark terrific array of the Janissaries in 
 the van. Cavalry, infantry, camels, and oxen 
 yoked to wagons, and armed chariots, offered a 
 strange, appalling picture to the eye. The fields, — 
 each ear of corn appeared as if transformed into 
 points of steel, and every bush or tree into a 
 horseman. It struck the beholder, as a thing 
 impossible to resist so mighty a multitude, provided 
 with every means of destruction, vrhich war, with 
 havock and desolation in her rear, could supply. 
 What was a handful of Christians cooped up within 
 their walls, to meet the onset of more than two hun- 
 dred thousand of veteran musselmans, with hosts of 
 Tartars in reserve ? Already the active marshal- 
 ling of the formidable enemy for the attack, was 
 perceived from the ramparts of the city. Some 
 appeared directed to open lines and batteries ; 
 others were constructing floating bridges, and 
 clearing the banks and passes of the river. The 
 barbarian camp, with the grand vizier, surrounded 
 by his pachas and agas, in splendid equipage, and 
 decorated with all the pomp and riches of the East, 
 dazzled and bewildered the view. The com- 
 mander*s tents were pitched close to the gardens of 
 Count Traubson ; since become the barracks of 
 the imperial Hungarian guard. The pavilion was 
 like a palace, and abounded in Asiatic luxury, and 
 all the elegancies and conveniences of royal life ; 
 it was decorated in the colour of Mahomet — a rich 
 green, with gold and silver borders. The tents of 
 the pachas were raised opposite the gates of the 
 city, and in a brief space the entire country round 
 appeared covered with them, like one immense mov- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 269" 
 
 ing town surrounding the capital, as the waves of 
 the sea embosom some little island. 
 
 Suddenly a smart cannonade from the banks of the 
 Danube, sending clouds of smoke and flame into 
 the air, drew all eyes in that direction ; and strong 
 detachments of Turks were seen passing the arm 
 of the river, swimming, fording, and in boats. 
 They were encountered by a division of imperial 
 cavalry stationed at Leopoldstadt and at Pratur, 
 and the contest soon grew warm. But the impe- 
 rialists were soon out numbered, and the citizens 
 perceived with grief that they were compelled to 
 retreat. They hastily passed the last bridge con- 
 nected with the isles of the Danube, and broke it 
 down behind them, so that now all communication 
 with the Austrian army was cut off. 
 
 The Turks subsequently took possession of the 
 whole of the isles ; destroyed the buildings of Leo- 
 poldstadt ; set fire to the Favorita, the emperor*s 
 favourite villa, and pillaged every thing which the 
 poor inhabitants had not previously removed. 
 Among the sufferers was the faithful Kolschutzki, 
 who had there invested his little property, the loss 
 of which, however, grieved him less than the arrest 
 of his former master. Count Zriny, and the wounds 
 of the brave Szlatinski. He obtained permission 
 of the latter, to enter a company of volunteers, 
 headed by a French colonel, until such time as 
 Szlatinski should be sufficiently recovered, — for his 
 wound had not proved fatal, — again to take the 
 field, and call for his personal services. 
 
 Before evening, the entire camp of the infidels 
 had been completed, and even decorated, before 
 the walls of Vienna. A sort of herald was then 
 
270 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 seen approaching the gates, who threw down a roll 
 of paper, upon the counterscarp of the ramparts, 
 which contained an insolent summons of immediate 
 surrender. It was carried to the commander, who 
 did not deign to return a reply. Shortly after the 
 enemy commenced operations ; opened his trenches, 
 and made his line of approach parallel with the 
 imperial castle. The danger which threatened 
 Vienna, was at length realized ; its inhabitants 
 had relied upon being relieved in a few days by 
 the allied army, assembled on the opposite side of 
 the Danube ; and which it was expected, when re- 
 inforced, would pass the river, and giving battle 
 to the infidels, compel them at all events to raise 
 the siege. A gloomy morning, succeeded a fear- 
 fully tempestuous night ; such a storm had seldom 
 burst even over the mountainous districts, which 
 lay between Austria and the Tyrol ; and thick 
 clouds enveloped the hills, the passes of which 
 still reverberated with the deep, hollow meanings 
 of the dying blasts. The dark, restless waves of 
 the Wolfgang lake fretted, and lashed themselves 
 far into the massy rocks, encompassing it on all 
 sides ; while a veil of deep mists, concealed the 
 base and declivities of the lower range of hills, 
 over which the peaks of the giant mountains, 
 stretched far away into the calm clear space. 
 The thunder muttered at intervals, and sudden 
 gleams of light burst athwart the half visible 
 gloom, and all around, bore sad witness to the 
 fearful night of the angry spirit of the mountain 
 storm. The autumn was but begun, yet every 
 thing wore a wild and wintry aspect, and even 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 271 
 
 flakes of snow fell over the city, and sent a strange 
 foreboding chill to the hearts of the boldest. 
 
 One solitary bark, in which sat two travellers, 
 was at this time making its way through the trou- 
 bled waters of the lake ; one of them appeared 
 an elderly man, tall and gaunt, wrapped in a black 
 cloak, and by the shape of his hat, his collar, and 
 a rosary which hung from his neck, could be no 
 other than an ecclesiastic. His companion was a 
 beautiful lady, apparently not more than twenty 
 or twenty-two years of age. She was extremely 
 pale, and grief sat upon her lovely features, and 
 the tear was in her eye. The victim of some 
 secret sorrow, a deep sigh escaped her, as she 
 gazed up at the dark, rocky banks that lay around 
 her, and then upon the waters, as if musing on 
 the peaceful slumbers which might be found in its 
 cavern depths. 
 
 The voice of one of the boatman broke upon 
 her reverie, addressing himself to the ecclesiactic : 
 '* There you see Mount Falkenstein, and there, — 
 pointing with his oar, upon the summit of the 
 rocks, — is the habitation of St. Wolfgang." 
 
 ** My son,*' replied the holy man, *' that is very 
 unlikely, many ages have elapsed, since that 
 saintly man lived, and died amidst these scenes." 
 
 *^Alas! who was he?" inquired the unhappy 
 lady. 
 
 " A preacher of the Christian faith, madam," 
 replied the priest, ** an apostle among the hea- 
 thens, who then inhabited these parts. To his 
 efforts, and those of Colmannus, his companion, 
 is chiefly owing our knowledge of Christianity, and 
 
272 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the germs of our civilization here. Their lives were a 
 living witness, and their doctrine that of redemption 
 from human sin ; they reformed their fellow-beings 
 during life, and inspired them with peace at the 
 hour of death." 
 
 '* How good, how noble!" replied the lady; 
 '^ what a reproach to the sanguinary career of 
 conquerors, and statesmen, as they are called ; 
 lives like theirs, indeed ; so useful, so truly lauda- 
 ble, are alone deserving of the honours, too long 
 bestowed upon kings and warriors ; who impiously 
 take upon themselves to vie with Providence, and 
 become the rulers of human action and events.'' 
 
 *^ It is therefore," replied the priest, *' that man, 
 — that animated atom, — should refrain from all rash 
 projects, and humble himself before a holy provi- 
 dence, in the station he is placed ; to do all the 
 good in his power, and pray for light to guide his 
 path aright." 
 
 '* But suppose," observed the lady quickly, 
 ** he thinks he recognises the hand of Heaven, 
 and feels called upon to act ?" 
 
 ^* Madam!" interrupted the priest, ** he must 
 not consult either his own heart, or his own mad 
 wishes ; it is easy to mistake the voice of the 
 passions, for the voice of Providence. Madam, the 
 Almighty has other means at his disposal, to make 
 known his holy will ; but it requires a guiltless 
 and pious spirit to read the signs and tokens of 
 his power." 
 
 ** And what are those signs ?" inquired the lady 
 doubtingly. 
 
 *'That your intents, madam, be in nothing con- 
 tradictory to the sacred duties laid down in Holy 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 273 
 
 Writ ; — that you feel a conscience at peace with 
 itself, and that you maintain a perpetual struggle 
 against sin, the world, and the devil." The lady 
 bent down her eyes, and made no reply. They 
 were now passing a point of land which projected 
 into the lake, upon the summit of which lay pros- 
 trate a huge oak, rent by the lightning during the 
 tempest of the preceding night. 
 
 '* The thunder-bolt has done its work there," 
 observed one of the boatmen, who had appeared 
 remarkably attentive to the conversation which 
 had just passed. *^ Tis pity ! I have seen him tow- 
 ering over the waters there these fifty years agone." 
 
 '' That, indeed, is his fate !" exclaimed the lady, 
 gazing on the monarch oak with a wild abstracted 
 air; *^ he too, hath been smitten by the bolt of 
 Heaven in his glowing prime, — in all the splendour 
 and vigour of his mind. And he will never rise 
 again. Oh ! it is dreadful ; — frightful to contem- 
 plate !" and she covered her face and wept. 
 
 *^ Was it not the hand of God which smote him ?" 
 inquired the priest. ** Learn resignation, madam ; 
 dark and inscrutable are his paths ; let us receive 
 his chastisement with submission, and adore him!" 
 
 ^* You are right, father !" exclaimed the aged 
 boatman ; '^ there is no other rule of life ; — we 
 must adore him, and pray without ceasing. What 
 other can we do, when this wild and stormy water 
 keeps still devastating our little fields, — when the 
 snow-storm and wintry winds carry away our cottage 
 roofs, — when the summer hail, like shot, beats down 
 our harvest, — the lightning levels our trees ; — 
 what can we do but pray ? and St. Wolfgang, no 
 doubt, hears our prayers." 
 
 T 
 
274 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 "Happy those," said the lady, "who possess so 
 much simple faith/' 
 
 " Amen !" rejoined the Priest ; ** it is the true 
 peace which God vouchsafes us, without any re- 
 ference to St. Wolfgang.'' 
 
 " What!" exclaimed the boatman, with surprise, 
 — " don't you believe St. Wolfgang is still the in- 
 habitant of yonder cliflPs over the mountain ? Well, 
 well," he added smiling; "he is none the less 
 there, whether you think so or not. How would 
 he answer us, think you, when we call to him, if 
 he did not live there ?" 
 
 " Answer you ;" observed the priest, " my son, 
 do not deceive thyself." 
 
 " We cannot, please you, good father," said the 
 second boatman ; " we are so often putting ques- 
 tions to him, and he so often answers us — loud 
 enough, — that there is no mistaking him by no 
 manner of means. Only you must speak to him 
 with right hearty faith." 
 
 " Assuredly !" said the monk ; " but how does 
 he answer you ?" 
 
 ^' Why, holy father ! that you had best hear ; — ^ 
 suppose you were just to put a question to him or 
 so ; — ^hearing is believing, sir." 
 
 " / hiave nothing to ask of him; besides, I don't 
 think it is permitted for us thus to tempt Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 " Does the saint reply," inquired the lady, 
 " to any questions you ask ? Will he tell us, I 
 wonder, what will be our fate !" 
 
 " I cannot tell what your ladyship means by 
 that. All I know is, the saint will answer *yes,' or 
 * no,' when you ask." 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 275 
 
 '* I should like, of all things, to hear him," then; 
 — "will he answer 'yes,' or *no,' when I inquire 
 if what I so much wish will ever come to pass ? If 
 he be really a saint, he ought to know it." 
 
 " Madam !" interrupted the priest, in a severe 
 tone, — " are you not ashamed to indulge this weak, 
 if not criminal curiosity/' 
 
 "The unhappy," replied the lady in a mournful 
 tone, " may be inquisitive and rash ; when their 
 last hopes hang upon a single question, and when 
 the next hour may decide their destiny. But it is 
 not — I only wish the boatman to try it. Pray, 
 good man, ask the saint whether that for which I 
 am incessantly praying to Heaven will be granted 
 or not V 
 
 " Good lady ; — you shall have his answer di- 
 rectly." They ceased to ply the oar for a moment, 
 — all was still. The old boatman stood up, and 
 called in a loud voice: " Saint Wolfgang ! — will 
 this lady get what she wishes ; — yes ! or no V a 
 silence of about a second ensued ; and then all at 
 once from the summit of the mountain was heard 
 a clear "No!" — and "no — no!" was repeated 
 from every neighbouring hill around.* 
 
 The wretched, and now superstitious Ludmilla, — 
 for it was she, — trembled, as the echo caught her 
 ear. She felt as if her sentence had been just pro- 
 nounced; and it was with some difficulty father 
 Isidor succeeded in persuading her that the whole 
 was merely the reverberation of a sound. 
 
 * This singular echo may still be heard upon Mount Falken- 
 stein, in the Tyrol, and along the banks of Lake Wolfgang ; it 
 takes up the last syllable, and a succession of echoes repeat it in 
 a manner that favours the illusion. 
 t2 
 
276 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 '' Yes, it may be as you say," she replied; *' but 
 what led the boatman to fix upon the ' No,' rather 
 than the * Yes V Alas ! it is of bad augury. 
 Could mere chance, think you, have suggested it ?" 
 
 The priest, on hearing these words, addressed 
 her with severe voice and contracted brow, declar- 
 ing that such sentiments were invariably the result 
 of a want of true religion, the indulgence of un- 
 checked passions, bad writings, and the society of 
 free-thinkers. His lecture, indeed, continued un- 
 til they reached the village and church of St. 
 Wolfgang itself, containing such a collection of his 
 miracles, and stranger traditions, the fame of which 
 has drawn so many pilgrims to his shrine. 
 
 All was now in preparation for receiving the 
 emperor Leopold, on his retreat from the capital, 
 with due magnificence. Upon touching land, they 
 first proceeded to join in the celebration of mass at 
 St. Wolfgang's ; and it was no sooner concluded, 
 than father Isidor, approaching Ludmilla, said, in 
 a low voice, ^* your name has been announced to 
 his majesty, who has arrived here, and he listens to 
 your petition for an audience." 
 
 The lady expressed her deep gratitude : it was 
 for this she had braved the inclemencies of the 
 season, and the perils of crossing the stormy lake 
 after such a night ; and she arose from her knees 
 with an expression of hope and confidence, long 
 strangers to her heart. She felt as if she were not 
 yet wholly abandoned by Heaven, and followed 
 her conductor in silent prayer. The decisive hour 
 was come : she was to appear before the sovereign 
 who had been betrayed by her consort; and she 
 had to meet his just anger, at the moment she was 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 277 
 
 about to solicit a fresh favour at his hands. She 
 was humbled to the dust; her once proud spirit 
 betook itself to prayer, and tears, and repentance ; 
 yet not unmingled with complaints and doubts. 
 She leaned tremblingly on the arm of father Isidor, 
 who, stern as he was, was touched with her extreme 
 agitation, and sought to re-assure her, by praising 
 the extreme affability of the good Leopold — the 
 father of his subjects. 
 
 They were received with marked attention by 
 the royal attendants, and conducted through a 
 spacious gallery, of antique appearance, with 
 oaken floors, and polished doors of the same wood. 
 All was massy and plain, little betokening the 
 residence of a great monarch ; and it was chiefly 
 the criminal projects of Count Zriny, which had 
 constrained him to seek refuge in a gloomy asylum 
 so little in unison with his known habits and tastes. 
 
 ** Let us go back, good father," she exclaimed, 
 as the painful idea crossed her mind ; *^ I shall 
 never be able to bear the eye of the emperor :" 
 and she would have turned round and fled. But 
 the chamberlain, Baron Guttenthein, would not 
 permit it ; he entreated her to be composed ; he 
 knew Count Zriny, and he knew the emperor well, 
 and she had no real cause for alarm. He led her 
 hastily forward, and, throwing open the door, 
 brought her into the emperor's presence. It was a 
 plain apartment, almost wholly destitute of orna- 
 ments ; but Ludmilla's eye embraced nothing but 
 one object, and the next moment she threw herself 
 at her sovereign's feet. 
 
 The priest was about to retire, but Leopold would 
 not permit him. *< Stay, reverend father," he said, 
 
278 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 in the kindest tone ; " it is my wish to speak to you 
 in private." 
 
 The monk inclined his head respectfully, and 
 retired to a recess of the apartment, while the lord 
 chamberlain withdrew. 
 
 ** Are you the wife of Count Zriny ?" inquired 
 the emperor, in rather a harsh tone. 
 
 ** I am, gracious sire,'' she replied, in so low a 
 voice as scarcely to be heard. 
 
 ** Rise, lady, I entreat, and compose yourself. 
 Have you been ill ?" he added, in a milder tone, 
 observing her extreme paleness, and the almost 
 convulsive trembling of her frame. 
 
 '* No, sire ; I am only an unhappy creature that 
 has dared to appear before your majesty, to im- 
 plore your compassion." 
 
 ** I know what you mean ; you wish to be al- 
 lowed to rejoin your husband." 
 
 '* It is — it is my only wish ; that is my prayer to 
 your majesty. Oh, deign to grant it !" 
 
 *' Do you know, madam, where your husband 
 now is — what it is you ask ?" 
 
 *' He is in the fortress of KufFstein," bending 
 down her head to conceal her tears. 
 
 '' But do you know the reasons why he is con- 
 fined there ?" 
 
 For some moments she could not reply : then in 
 a voice half stifled with sobs — '* Oh, yes! it is 
 for the crime of high treason — and he was his own 
 accuser." 
 
 The emperor was now also silent ; he recalled to 
 mind the last scene between them. " But I mean,^ 
 you are ignorant of his present condition ?" 
 
 She sought to reply, but could only answer with 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 279 
 
 sobs and tears. Leopold was moved. Here was 
 ample testimony to the noble qualities of his fa- 
 vourite, in the excessive love of his consort. He 
 spoke some soothing words, and then beckoned 
 father Isidor to approach. The emperor addressed 
 him in Latin, and the priest replied in the same 
 tongue ; and after a brief colloquy, he again turned 
 towards the countess. 
 
 " Your fate is, truly, a hard one ; I will do what 
 I can to relieve you ; but I think, madam, you had 
 better not persist in your idea of going to KufF- 
 stein." 
 
 ** Oh, my God ! is my husband then no more ? 
 Is it therefore, sire, you — " 
 
 ** He is still alive," interrupted Leopold ; ** and 
 father Isidor will tell you more. I give you per- 
 mission to go'; but why add fresh bitterness to your 
 lot ? Adieu, countess ; God alone can afford you 
 relief — look up to Him." He held out his hand : 
 the unhappy lady pressed it to her lips, her tears 
 falling thick and fast, and the next instant she 
 fainted in the arms of father Isidor. 
 
 In that state she was conveyed from the empe- 
 ror's presence ; and when she opened her eyes, she 
 saw the faithful priest still near her. The ominous 
 words, ** Go not to KufFstein," yet rung in her 
 ears, and she fixed her eyes upon the holy father, 
 as if to seek an explanation of what had passed. 
 
 " Calm yourself, dear lady," said the priest, in 
 a tone of real commiseration ; ** you shall hear all 
 when you have firmness enough to bear it. Only 
 promise me that you will not attempt to go to 
 Kuffstein." 
 
 " That is it ! — those were the fatal words ! — 
 
280 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Not go ! — not share the captivity of my husband — 
 of Zriny ! You may kill me, — but no power on 
 earth shall prevent me seeing him, while permitted 
 to live." 
 
 '* But there is something strangely mysterious, 
 which I cannot divine." 
 
 ** Oh, speak ! — what is it ? — I have courage, 
 indeed I have, to hear all." 
 
 ** When you feel yourself a little more restored, 
 and more resigned." 
 
 " Delay not, if you pity me, as you seem — say 
 that he is ill — is dead : however frightful it may 
 be, I repeat, that I can bear it.'" 
 
 " Hear it then," said the priest, in a solemn tone, 
 and receive, with Christian resignation, the chas- 
 tisement of a just God. His blind, ungoverned 
 passions have wrought his fall, not only of his 
 house, his honour, and his freedom, but of the 
 blessed gift of reason itself; that mind, once so 
 proud and brilliant, is lost in clouds and darkness; 
 for, did he not seduce from her sacred path the 
 chosen spouse of Heaven ?" 
 
 ** Great God!" exclaimed the unhappy countess, 
 hearing nothing of the last words, conscious alone 
 of the additional calamity that had befallen her, — 
 ** this, indeed, I had not expected ; it is too, too 
 much to bear !" and she again sank back, over- 
 powered by her feelings. 
 
 It was in vain the priest now attempted to con- 
 trol her ; starting up, she tore her hair, and ut- 
 tered the most piteous cries and lamentations ; the 
 attendants of the empress ran, terrified, into the 
 apartments ; and, committing the w^retched Lud- 
 milla to their care, father Isidor hastened to ascer- 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 281 
 
 tain the real situation of the no less unhappy count. 
 The empress having been informed of Ludmilla's 
 sufferings, instantly despatched her own physician 
 and her most confidential attendants, to afford her 
 all the relief in their power. But nothing could 
 restrain her eagerness to see her husband ; and the 
 physician agreed that it was the only step which 
 could allay the extreme excitation under which she 
 laboured. The empress's carriage was immediately 
 in attendance, and she was conveyed, by slow 
 stages, from AVolfgang, through the town of Salz- 
 burg, and over the adjacent mountains, till, at 
 length, they approached the solitary fortress. To 
 reach it they were compelled to leave the carriage, 
 and take a circuitous route on horseback, through 
 the wild and dreary scenery which surrounded it 
 on all sides. Supported by father Isidor and several 
 female attendants, the countess appeared more 
 calm and resigned as they drew near, listening, 
 with greater attention than she had before shown, 
 to the exhortations of the holy man. It was a 
 sultry evening, towards the close of autumn, and a 
 strange stillness filled the air, and rested upon the 
 misty hills, as the twilight gradually thickened and 
 stole over the surrounding landscape. They had 
 already entered the narrow defile at the entrance 
 of the gloomy fortress, proceeding, in mournful 
 silence, till the priest, hearing a low muttering 
 among the distant hills, stopped ; and observing a 
 dark speck of cloud in the horizon, foretold an 
 approaching tempest, and ordered the party to 
 hasten forward as quickly as possible. 
 
 Soon they entered the dark massy walls of the 
 castle, which seemed to grow out of the solid rock, 
 
282 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 and were capable alike of resisting all external 
 attack, and preventing all possibility of escape. 
 " This is Kuffstein," whispered the monk ; and 
 Ludmilla, as she raised her eyes to the terrific pri- 
 son, uttered a deep sigh. They approached, and 
 knocked loudly at one of the enormous iron doors, 
 while the lonely sound of the angelus broke dis- 
 mally upon the night. They were answered by a 
 hoarse angry voice, that there was no admittance 
 after night-fall ; and the monk was compelled to 
 conduct his feeble charge to a small dwelling in 
 the vicinity, in a most pitiable state of mind. 
 
 The next morning, father Isidor was struck 
 with the ravage which a single night*s anxiety had 
 produced in the looks of the wretched countess. 
 At length, an order of admission from the gover- 
 nor roused her from a state of agonizing suspense. 
 She was received by the governor, and he intro- 
 duced the physician who attended upon the un- 
 happy count. After preparing her for the ii\ter- 
 view, the latter accompanied her to the chaniber 
 of his patient, entreating her not to be surprised 
 even if he refused to recognise her, as he had re- 
 peatedly asserted he knew no such personage as 
 the countess Zriny. Ludmilla was greatly shocked, 
 — the blood rushed into her face, and was suc- 
 ceeded by a deadly paleness. 
 
 ** You will pardon me," said the doctor ; " but 
 both for your own and the count's sake, it is ne- 
 cessary to make these observations, and you must 
 not attach any weight to the words of my unfortu- 
 nate patient. He will tell you that he knows no 
 lady who has the least right to bear his name ; 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 283 
 
 but will be glad to see you if you are one Madame 
 de Villecamp." 
 
 " Gracious God I" cried the wretched countess, 
 " what language for a wife." 
 
 ** It appears hard ; but recollect that he attaches 
 no meaning to what he says. As to myself, he 
 mistook me for an emissary from the grand sultaa, 
 and will hold no communication with me, unless I 
 humour the idea. He imagines himself also so- 
 vereign of Hungary, and a descendant of the cele- 
 brated Zapola, — the Tokely of a former age. He 
 cannot be persuaded that he is imprisoned on the 
 frontiers of the Tyrol ; but thinks he occupies a 
 royal palace in Hungary.*' 
 
 What were the feelings of the countess, as she 
 passed by the gloomy cells, and along the galle- 
 ries of the dreaded fortress ; where she heard the 
 clashing x)f chains, with the cries and revilings of 
 the unhappy prisoners, which reverberated through 
 the dismal caverns below. All around wore the 
 aspect of desolation and horror; the horror and 
 desolation of the wrecked mind and spirit of hu- 
 manity — of noble and brilliant intellects for ever 
 fallen, — the thousand fearful forms, and wild ap- 
 palling sounds of blighted or ruined hopes ! After 
 ascending another staircase, they reached a part 
 of the castle of more modern and less gloomy ap- 
 pearance, and the jailer hastened along the corri- 
 dor, towards a massy folding-door, which he 
 opened with an enormous key. They then found 
 themselves in a spacious ante-chamber, where the 
 attendants of the count received the physician's 
 orders, and hastened to announce the intended visit 
 
S84 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA* 
 
 to their master. The reply brought was, " that 
 his Hungarian majesty would be delighted to ad- 
 mit Madame de Villecamp into his presence ; and 
 the next moment the inner-door opened, and Lud- 
 milla beheld her husband. He was dressed in a 
 splendid Hungarian uniform ; appeared little 
 changed, and assumed all the airs of royalty as 
 they advanced. His noble height, and fine figure, 
 gave him immense advantage over the usual bear- 
 ing of kings, and he aped '' their pomp and 
 state," in a style that would have excited the envy 
 of most crowned heads. The mock solemnity and 
 inanity of his countenance, made the picture com- 
 plete ; and an expression of foolish pleasure dwelt 
 upon his features for a moment, as he held out his 
 royal hand for Madame de Villecamp to kiss. 
 On his introducing her, the physician observed, 
 ** that her ladyship happening to take a tour in 
 these parts, casually heard that his majesty was 
 then at his country-palace, and had come to pay 
 her respects at his court." The count smiled ; 
 but it was a smile that pierced his wretched con- 
 sort to the heart. He then paid her some fine 
 compliments, and, turning towards the doctor with 
 great dignity, he observed, in a most despotic 
 tone : — *' You must withdraw, sir; I want to hear 
 nothing of the grand signor to-day." His majesty 
 then politely walked him to the door, and shutting 
 ,it after him, with all his might, hastened back to 
 Ludmilla, and, pressing her tenderly to his bosom, 
 declared how happy he was to see her. That mo- 
 ment repaid the wretched wife for much of the 
 cruel sufferings and anxiety she had undergone on 
 his account. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 285 
 
 **Alas!" he said, looking; affectionately in her 
 face ; " is it thus we meet again ? — I had never 
 dreamed it were possible. How fare you, my good 
 Ludmilla?'' 
 
 *' Well, perfectly well, now I am with you; 
 it seems so long — so very long since I saw 
 you." 
 
 *' Ah !" replied the count, ** it could not be 
 helped ; and I tell you more — we must part 
 again ; for here,'' lowering his voice, ** we must 
 let no one suspect the real footing we are upon. 
 The Polish princess is on her way to pay me a 
 visit ; — they say she is a beauty ; but I shall not 
 prize her by any means like my dear Ludmilla." 
 He smiled as he said this, and then added, ^* But 
 you look very pale — are you ill ?" 
 
 *^ No, Zriny, I am not ill ; — I am too happy 
 to see you, and be near you, and hear you 
 speak." 
 
 " Zriny, madam ! what do you mean by that ? 
 inquired the count, sharply ; ** are you, too, in- 
 fected with the popular error of the fools about 
 me ? Zriny ! Count Zriny ! they keep repeating ; 
 — yes, Zriny is upon eyery tongue. But it is all 
 for the best ; few can bear the truth ! — it dazzles, 
 it burns, it upsets them ! Oh, it does a deal of 
 harm !" In saying the last words, he passed his 
 hand across his forehead, as if some painful recol- 
 lection recurred to his mind. 
 
 *' Does your head ache ?" inquired Ludmilla ; 
 *' you appear to me as if you were suffering." 
 
 A flush of anger instantly shot from his eyes. 
 ** Who dares to say that ? — who shall contradict 
 
286 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 me here ? They are all in a plot together ; they 
 knock their foolish heads together as if they hoped 
 to strike out a spark of sense ; and whisper and 
 look wise, and jabber like so many jack-daws 
 upon a sheep's back ; — and all to try how much 
 wool they can pull out of one silly fleece. But 
 then you know/' in a confidential tone, ** I, too, 
 .used to follow that old king in sheep's clothing, 
 while the wolf was in my heart — that good old 
 king, I mean, by whom 1 was loved so much, yet 
 whom I served such a scurvy trick. The spectres 
 that visit me, tell me all about it, every day of my 
 life !" He went on muttering some inarticulate 
 sounds, as if addressing himself to the wall ; and, 
 by his looks and gestures, appeared in earnest 
 conversation with some imaginary objects ; — a 
 sight which so shocked his unhappy wife, that she 
 retired to the grated window, wringing her hands in 
 despair. Shortly afterwards he joined her. ** You 
 are admiring the prospect," he said, — ** you never 
 saw it before. I will show it you ; — do you see 
 that* river ? — it is the Waag ; for we are now at 
 Freucsin ; only they blunder here so about the 
 names. They call nothing by the right name ; 
 they want to impose upon me ; and they first come 
 with one face and then another. But I will punish 
 them one of these days," he added, in a furious 
 voice, *' for having attempted even to impose upon 
 a king." 
 
 ** They must have offended you very greatly," 
 observed Ludmilla, trying to humour his ideas, 
 according to the advice of the physician. 
 
 " You ! — your majesty, if you please, madam, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 287 
 
 would sound more correct. But, as to offending 
 me, I trample the venomous reptiles, like a mob, 
 under my royal feet. But you shall hear,'* — draw- 
 ing her aside, — '* all will soon be decided ; — the 
 Turkish army is in full march ; the sultan Soly- 
 man is my sworn ally ; my ancestors reigned 
 before me in this kingdom ; and I, too, will 
 reign ; — I, too, am a king ! I will make the 
 people tremble ; the wretches ! — do they dare to 
 speak ? — do they come ? — do they laugh at me ? 
 — the base swinish multitude ! ■ — do they laugh 
 at their own legitimate king ?" With these words, 
 he threw himself against the door with all his 
 might. 
 
 ** Oh, my dear love — my husband — I intreat 
 you to be calm ; there is no one with you but I — 
 your Ludmilla — your wife — who lives only to 
 love and to obey you !'* 
 
 ^* No one here, eh ? — what ! are you too in the 
 plot? Out of my sight — out of my royal pre- 
 sence instantly ! They come — they rage and 
 storm at me — and yet she pretends she can see 
 nobody !*' He then burst into an access of fury, 
 as if engaged with a whole army of resolute ene- 
 mies, bent upon seeking his life. He fought, de- 
 fending himself inch by inch — attacking and re- 
 tiring — till apparently driven into his last station, 
 where, placing his back against the wall, he con- 
 tinued to maintain the unequal combat, till he fell 
 utterly exhausted to the ground. The physician 
 and attendants had hastened to the spot, on hear- 
 ing the first symptoms of violence, and witnessed 
 the last strange scene. Still they could not pre- 
 
288 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 vail upon Ludmilla to leave her husband. He 
 was placed upon a couch ; and she supported his 
 head during the whole time he continued insen- 
 sible, as if life were wholly extinct. Gradually, 
 however, he began to revive : he opened his eyes ; 
 his breathing grew more calm ; and he at last 
 looked round him. '' What has happened to me, 
 and where am I ? Is it you, my dear, my excel- 
 lent wife ? But how weary I feel ; — I must have 
 been a long journey — and come from — from 
 Vienna, no doubt. Yet I recollect nothing about 
 it ; — and where are we now V He was perfectly 
 composed, but seemed to have difficulty in ar- 
 ranging his ideas. He leaned his head upon his 
 wife's bosom, again closed his eyes, and remained 
 thus some time, as if he were sleeping. Her tears 
 were flowing bitterly and abundantly ; and at 
 length her convulsive sobs seemed to rouse him 
 from his lethargy. He looked at her, and saw that 
 she was weeping. '' You also weep ! Yes, all 
 who approach me shed tears ; and it is I who 
 cause them to flow. He, too, wept the very last 
 time these eyes beheld him ! and, when he pressed 
 my hand in his, I felt one of those tears, which 
 fell like fire upon my heart ! But you ! oh, do 
 not weep thus, my Ludmilla ! — do not, dearest, 
 I beseech you ! for I am better now. Nay, you 
 must not,'' — and he wiped them, with a look of in- 
 expressible tenderness, from her face ; — *^ for, if 
 his were hard to bear, yours, my love, will leave 
 still deeper traces behind. Like his, they will 
 burn — they will consume me here !" and he placed 
 his hand upon his heart, and again fell into a 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 289 
 
 mournful silence ; his head dropping again upon 
 her bosom. 
 
 There was not a dry eye in the room ; and the 
 physician turned his head away, as he drew his 
 chair nearer the unhappy lady, and breathed some 
 words of consolation in her ear. What words of 
 consolation, however, could be of any avail in a 
 calamity like this? Disease, poverty, captivity, — 
 all might be brought to a close, and if not, en- 
 dured: but for hopeless ihsanity there remains 
 nothing but death. In mercy to the reader, and 
 to ourselves, we draw a curtain over the fate of 
 individuals condemned to endure the bitterest 
 evils to which human nature can be subjected: on 
 one side, madness ; and on the other, the misery of 
 beholding it. Ludmilla forsook the world, in order 
 to give herself up to her husband; and did not re- 
 turn to its enchantments, even after his death 
 had dismissed her from the task of devoted love. 
 
290 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Whilst the countess was thus engaged in her me- 
 lancholy task at KufFstein, her sister Catherine 
 had her sufferings, scarcely less trying, within the 
 walls of Vienna. Her beloved Szlatinski had long 
 lingered painfully under the severe wounds he had 
 received in the duel ; and when, at length, suffi- 
 ciently recovered, lost not a moment in rejoining 
 the Polish army. The Ottoman hosts now com- 
 pletely beleaguered the city ; their camp, extend- 
 ing in one immense circle, gradually drew closer 
 to the walls, following the lines of approach ; 
 fresh trenches were daily opened, and new mines 
 constructed. No sooner had day dawned, than 
 the inhabitants were aroused by terrific discharges 
 of cannon ; the Turkish commanders had already 
 established their quarters in the suburbs, and were 
 thence making active preparations to storm the 
 city. From this period, the roaring of the artil- 
 lery was heard night and day, mingled with the 
 continued explosions of the mines, and the wild 
 shouts of the besiegers. Numbers of soldiers and 
 citizens were daily swept from the ramparts, and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 291 
 
 more met their fate in the frequent sorties, con- 
 ducted under the eye of Count Stahremberg him- 
 self with rare intrepidity. Fires had burst forth 
 in different quarters of the town, and were extin- 
 guished with great difficulty. The arsenal, with 
 the entire magazines, had only been saved from 
 destruction by the devoted courage of an artillery 
 officer, who, by his presence of mind, became the 
 saviour of his country. 
 
 These conflagrations were caused, not only by 
 the Turkish bombs, but by the hands of hired in- 
 cendiaries; while other circumstances, no less sus- 
 picious, added to the terrors of such a siege. Sig- 
 nals were observed suddenly emerging from the 
 summits of the roofs and towers, with the view, 
 doubtless, of conveying secret intelligence to the 
 enemy, and the strictest search led to no discovery. 
 Famine next threw its gaunt and spectral shadow 
 over the terror-stricken city, and excited to the 
 uttermost the despair and fury of the people. 
 Their suspicions fell upon the Hungarian malcon- 
 tents, and their relatives and connections establish- 
 ed at Vienna. Popular insurrections were the con- 
 sequence, and the innocent, as well as the guilty, 
 soon became the victims of their blind rage ; and 
 among others, an unhappy maniac, who, with a 
 loud laugh, discharged a pistol at a pile of burning 
 buildings, and was torn to pieces upon the spot. 
 No one could venture into the streets in the Hun- 
 garian uniform; and the excitation of the public 
 mind augured yet worse consequences, should not 
 the expected succours arrive in time. 
 
 This frightful position of affairs, was a source of 
 the deepest anxiety to the governor and the com^ 
 u2 
 
292 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 manding officers, as well as to all those who, by 
 their age or sex, were incapacitated from taking- a 
 share in the defence. Among these was the lovely 
 bride of Szlatinski, whose gentle, yet heroic spirit, 
 still sustained her amidst the dreadful scenes which 
 surrounded her. She had received no tidings of 
 her husband, since his return to Warsaw; and she 
 was without hope of receiving any. All communi- 
 cation with the left side of the Danube, was now 
 cut off; and it was too daring an act to venture 
 through the Ottoman camp, for the boldest to at- 
 tempt it. The governor was desirous of conveying 
 a message to the commander-in-chief of the im- 
 perial forces, and offered a reward of a hundred 
 ducats, to any one who would cross the river, and 
 deliver it into the Duke of Lorraine's own hands. 
 He was not even required to return, but simply to 
 light a fire, as a signal, upon a fixed point, that he 
 had fulfilled his mission. But no candidate for the 
 perilous enterprise appeared. 
 
 There was one individual, indeed, and only one, 
 who, had he been in these fearful scenes, would 
 have hazarded the desperate exploit, — and that 
 was the bold, and skilful Kolschutzki. But, alas! 
 thought Catherine, ** he is far away, with the adored 
 object of all these tears and sighs, — this bitter and 
 torturing suspense; and wherefore so long? — shall 
 I ever again behold my heroic Sandor, and the 
 faithful Kolschutzki? — Ah, why this fearful delay? 
 why tarries the flower of warriors, at the head of 
 the bravest army that ever Europe boasted, and 
 which has alone quelled the pride and fury of the 
 Ottoman ? How would the sight of Sobieski, and 
 his Poles, now cheer the drooping spirits of our 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA, 293 
 
 base and mutinous citizens ! I fear me, the evil 
 day will, ere that, arrive; and all will be lost." 
 
 Many days passed over in this agonizing state of 
 suspense; the enemy pressed his attacks with re- 
 doubled vigour, and the garrison did its duty man- 
 fully. Count Roger, of Stahremberg, though still 
 ill of a wound he had received, early in the siege, 
 was present wherever danger threatened, or v/here 
 vigorous efforts were most necessary to repulse, or 
 keep the foe at bay. In the interior, the bishop of 
 CoUonitz superintended the cure of the wounded, 
 the care of the sick, and the relief of the indigent, in 
 particular the families of those who had perished in 
 their country's cause. His eloquence, and his repeat- 
 ed solicitations brought immense resources to the dif- 
 ferent charities, while his zeal and example induced 
 all ranks to promote his pious labours to the ut- 
 most. He exhorted the ladies of highest birth, to 
 prepare linen and bandages, to administer medi- 
 cines, and to provide nourishing food. They even 
 attended the sick in the public hospitals, while 
 those of a lower class assisted in the labours of the 
 men, in working at the countermines, carrying 
 earth and water; in short, in all manual exertions, 
 not absolutely beyond their power. The noble and 
 devoted spirit thus displayed by the higher classes, 
 as well as by the weaker sex, wrought, at length, 
 a good effect upon the great body of the citizens. 
 The public mind grew more calm and confident ; 
 the sufferings of all orders became proportionally 
 diminished, and every one that had the power, 
 hastened to contribute something towards the 
 general alleviation of the privations and burdens to 
 be endured. Catherine Szlatinski, and her friend, 
 
294 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 Madame de Preysing, were indefatigable in promot- 
 ing these laudable objects; and in such charitable 
 occupations, the former found momentary relief from 
 the distracting thoughts by which she was assailed. 
 One morning, after a terrific assault, during 
 which the incessant play of artillery, and throwing 
 of bombs, had driven the inhabitants of the town 
 into the deepest and most secluded recesses at 
 their command, an unusual number of wounded 
 were borne from the ramparts. The religious, and 
 other societies, instantly hastened to give all the 
 assistance in their power, in the hospitals founded 
 for the purpose, and superintended by the excellent 
 bishop of Collonitz. Among other ladies, Cathe- 
 rine had been offering up her prayers at the church 
 of St. Stephen, and was now hastening to fulfil her 
 pious charge of tending the sick. On her way, she 
 met a party conveying some wounded men to the 
 convent of the Cordeliers ; and she could perceive the 
 countenances of many of them, as they were car- 
 ried close past the spot where she stood. The first 
 she saw, was a young student, whose right arm had 
 been shattered by a ball. He was deadly pale, 
 except where he was covered with his blood ; his eyes 
 were closed, and he appeared to suffer extreme pain. 
 She thought she traced some resemblance in his 
 features to those of Szlatinski ; she uttered a cry of 
 horror, and was only prevented from falling by an 
 aged woman, who supported, and with some diffi- 
 culty, assisted her to reach home. Upon first be- 
 holding her, Madame de Preysing imagined that 
 she had been wounded, such was the painful im- 
 pression she had received, and which continued 
 during the remainder of the day. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 295 
 
 In the evening, the good bishop, as was his 
 habit, called to see Madame de Preysing, and, 
 in the hope of learning something respecting the 
 poor student, Catherine hastened into his pre- 
 sence. She was not mistaken ; the dreadful bom- 
 bardment of that morning was the sad theme of 
 every tongue ; he described the fearful havock it 
 had made ; the increased number of killed and 
 wounded, and the inadequate means for the ac- 
 commodation and support of the sufferers. The 
 chief part of the most distinguished, had either 
 been killed or disabled ; the provisions, and even 
 the ammunition, began to fail, while the fires 
 daily became more frequent. The governor, he 
 added, in order to avoid the confusion arising out 
 of a variety of signals, had issued orders, that in 
 case of sudden emergency, no bells, except those 
 belonging to the cathedral, were to be rung ; when 
 the whole of the male population were to assemble 
 at a given point, and the whole of the females to 
 seek refuge at the fountains ; and such as were 
 able, to assist in extinguishing the fires. The hos- 
 pitals were thronged with the dying, not merely 
 from wounds, but from sickness and excessive 
 fatigue ; and the public cemeteries were scarcely 
 spacious enough to receive the dead. Desperation 
 and despair seemed to pervade the extremes of 
 society, in the higher and lower ranks ; but for- 
 tunately, the spirit of the garrison remained unim- 
 paired, and the middle orders of the citizens met 
 the growing dangers with increasing courage and 
 resolution. Even the wives of this most virtuous 
 and industrious portion of the community, vied 
 
296 THE SIEGE OF VIENJ^A. 
 
 with each other in rendering their best services, 
 to the cause of religion and their country. 
 
 '' It does me good to hear it," replied Madame 
 de Preysing; "it is thus women vindicate their 
 character, and merit the name of citizenesses, by 
 contributing to the general good. Need I instance 
 the Soeurs Grises ? They do not restrict their hu- 
 mane cares, either to age or sex." 
 
 Catherine, who had never before heard of this 
 noble sisterhood, inquired its character and occu- 
 pations. Her friend informed her of its institution 
 by the virtuous St. Vincent, of Paule; the members 
 of which, inspired by the example of their founder, 
 consecrated their lives to the service of the un- 
 fortunate, no less in their private capacity, than 
 in fixed establishments wholly devoted to this 
 holy object. She gave a number of examples, 
 from those of France and other countries, of their 
 generous efforts and devotion, beyond all praise ; 
 adding, that several monarchs had expressed a 
 wish to behold so beneficent an institution ex- 
 tended to their own states. 
 
 So truly noble and useful did a life thus spent 
 appear in the eyes of Catherine Szlatinski, that, 
 without the hope of rejoining her beloved Sandor, 
 she would have devoted herself to it with joy. 
 She pursued the subject with the warmest interest, 
 and ceased not to inquire into further particulars, 
 as to its progress and results. The next morning 
 she informed her mother, that, till the return of 
 her lord and husband, she was resolved to enter 
 the society of sisters who were thus employed, at 
 the different charitable institutions conducted by 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 297 
 
 the amiable bishop of Collonitz. Many of the 
 wretched objects of their care had fcllen victims 
 to the flames, dug out of the ruins of houses, or 
 had been maimed by the bursting of the shells. 
 
 Upon learning her intentions, the poor old lady 
 was half distracted ; she looked upon Catherine with 
 the utmost astonishment, and said the bare idea of 
 such a step almost made her faint. ** What ! the 
 daughter of the Baroness Volkersdorf become an 
 avowed nurse of common people — the wives of the 
 lowest artizans ! surely the most dreadful revolu- 
 tion must be near at hand ; for what could the 
 great Turk himself do worse, than make slaves and 
 servants of them all ? But I suppose, Catherine, 
 you wish to prepare yourself for so terrible a fate, 
 and learn to submit, without a murmur, to what 
 cannot be helped. If that be the case, my dear, I 
 cannot, indeed, refuse you my permission ; nay, 
 if we are to be carried into slavery, I too had 
 better begin, — change dresses with our servants, 
 and let them fill our places. Yes, I see the revo- 
 lution is come, and all order will be reversed ! " 
 
 In this strange and distracted way, did the 
 wretched lady run on, and ended by assuring her 
 daughter, that her husband Szlatinski — for Ca- 
 therine had revealed her secret marriage — must 
 have been long dead, and that she might now 
 safely enough enter a nunnery ; — much more re- 
 spectable than becoming ** a servant of all work," 
 for one of her rank and accomplishments, — to say 
 nothing of the family honour, which would be tar- 
 nished for ever. It was in vain Catherine sought 
 to explain her motives, she could only sigh and 
 lament, — for it was impossible, in any manner, to 
 
 H 
 
298 TUE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 reconcile her mother to surrounding circumstances, 
 or what th^ poor baroness emphatically termed 
 ** the revolutionary state of things." 
 
 Meanwhile, the situation of the capital became 
 each day more desperate. The autumn had set in ; 
 the imperial army lay inactive upon the left banks 
 of the Danube, though it daily received some ac- 
 cession of strength from the neighbouring princi- 
 palities. Sobieski and his army had not yet ar- 
 rived, and it was deemed unadvisable to hazard 
 any attempt, even for the relief of the city, till 
 they had formed a junction with the Poles, — the 
 only soldiers whom, from fatal experience, the 
 Mussulman had been taught to dread. The grand 
 vizier, irritated at the protracted resistance he had 
 encountered, and the losses sustained by continual 
 sorties upon the side of the besieged, and being 
 well informed as to the actual situation of the 
 capital, came to the resolution of concentrating his 
 entire forces, and making one vigorous effort to 
 carry the place by a simultaneous assault. He 
 felt that this must be achieved, if ever, before the 
 approach of the Polish monarch, whom he justly 
 dreaded, as the most consummate warrior of his 
 age. With this view, he pressed his operations 
 with extreme rapidity, despatched fresh troops to 
 the assault, and carried his mines under the very 
 walls. 
 
 The slaughter and the fury of the war, at this 
 time, were terrific to hear and to behold ; but in 
 Count Stahremberg, the Turks met with an enemy 
 equally active and resolute in counteracting and 
 repulsing their desperate attacks. But, to add to 
 their other horrors, a contagious disease burst out 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 299 
 
 in the garrison, and its brave commander himself 
 did not escape. Still his courage and activity 
 were unsubdued ; he was borne to every station 
 where danger threatened, and encouraged the sol- 
 diers and citizens to fill up the vacancies of the 
 dying and the dead, both by his example and his 
 words. He had caused an observatory to be 
 erected upon the summit of St. Stephen's, and was 
 carried thither to reconnoitre the positions of the 
 enemy, the moment he left the walls. There, 
 seated on a wooden bench, which is still preserved, 
 and shown to strangers who visit the little tower, 
 he formed his plans for counteracting the works 
 of the enemy — attacking them in his sorties, and 
 obtaining relief from the imperialists, whose posi- 
 tion he could accurately ascertain from the same 
 spot. 
 
 The month of August had elapsed ; the siege 
 had continued during six weeks, and there ap- 
 peared little prospect of its being raised. The 
 fury of the Turks was redoubled by the unexpected 
 resistance they had encountered from so inferior 
 a force. The Asiatic troops were accustomed, at 
 this period of the year, to disband ; and the vizier 
 had no time to lose in bringing the campaign to a 
 close. Two of the principal ramparts had been 
 dreadfully battered ; and Count Stahremberg now 
 caused chains to be drawn across the streets, and 
 the gates barricaded as well as the private houses ; 
 — all which convinced the inhabitants that the 
 crisis was at hand. In vain they looked for re- 
 lief; in vain excited the imperial army to attack 
 the enemy before the arrival of the Poles. They 
 had learnt from some spies, who had contrived to 
 
300 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 penetrate through the Ottoman camp, that the 
 contingents from Bavaria, Franconia, and Saxony, 
 had already joined the imperial standard ; but 
 there were no tidings of Sobieski. The Turks, 
 also, having interrupted one of these emissaries, 
 were upon the alert ; and all further communica- 
 tion with the Austrian army ceased. Each night, 
 however, the governor ordered signal guns to be 
 fired from the summit of St. Stephen's, to inform 
 the commander-in-chief of their distress ; and each 
 night he looked with increased anxiety for the ap- 
 pearance of fires upon the heights of Mount Kah- 
 lenberg, as had been agreed, to announce an attack 
 of the imperialists upon the enemy's camp. Yet 
 no fire, except that of the enemy, and the con- 
 flagrations of the capital, were to be seen. All 
 anticipated the final storming of the Ottomans, 
 and the terrific slaughter and excesses which 
 would inevitably ensue from the excited spirit of 
 the infidels — exasperated, as it had been, by a 
 resistance so heroically prolonged. 
 
 At this trying juncture, the governor offered an 
 immense reward, as he had before done, for the 
 conveyance of a message to the commander-in- 
 chief, — announcing the desperate condition of the 
 capital, and that it was impossible it could hold 
 out beyond a very few days. No one appeared ; 
 for the dreadful tortures inflicted by the enemy, 
 upon the Christian emissaries who had been taken, 
 deterred the bravest and most patriotic from ven- 
 turing on such a perilous attempt. Of this fact, 
 Catherine Szlatinski had just been informed by 
 the good Bishop of Collonitz, whose warm esteem 
 and friendship she had won by her admirable spirit 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 301 
 
 - and exertions in the humane cause to which he 
 was so assiduously devoted. They were lament- 
 ing the speedy approach of the final struggle for 
 religion and independence in the very streets of 
 the capital ; and Catherine was expressing her 
 deep regret at the absence of her consort and the 
 faithful Kolschutzki at such a crisis ; — either of 
 whom, she doubted not, would have risked their 
 lives for the salvation of the capital. 
 
 *^ Ah! would to Heaven," exclaimed the lovely 
 and heroic being, " that I were but a man ; for 
 believe me, good father, I have the courage, if you 
 could obtain me but permission, to attempt it. 
 Could I not, in the Turkish costume, find my way 
 through the enemy's camp, and reach the Duke of 
 Lorraine? Indeed, indeed, 1 will risk my life to 
 tell him of the dreadful sufferings and despair of 
 this unhappy city, and its fast- perishing children !" 
 The bishop was struck with astonishment and 
 admiration as he heard these words, and beheld 
 the fine expression and attitude of the beautiful and 
 devoted spirit; for such she seemed, as her eye and 
 voice gave an almost angelic inspiration to her whole 
 appearance. But before he could reply, one of the 
 nurses at the Ursuline convent, converted to the pur- 
 pose of a hospital, hastily entered, and infornied the 
 bishop that a Turkish spy had just been arrested, as 
 he was applying for admittance into the hospital, 
 under the plea of visiting a Greek lady, who lay 
 grievously wounded there. Upon being secured, 
 he had earnestly intreated to be permitted to see 
 a young person named Catherine Szlatinski, if yet 
 living, as he had some important communications 
 to make to her, which regarded both herself, and 
 
302 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the safety of the capital, Catherine started, but 
 instantly acceded to the man's request, although 
 the bishop attempted to dissuade her. He begged, 
 however, to be present at the interview, and com- 
 manded the person to be brought into the lady's 
 presence. It was done ; and the unfortunate spy, 
 breaking from his guards by a sudden effort, threw 
 himself at her feet, and throwing off his Turkish 
 dress, presented the form and features of the faith- 
 ful Kolschutzki. The lady uttered a cry of surprise 
 and joy, as she seized and pressed to her lips and 
 bosom the letters which he extended towards her. 
 
 *' Joy, joy !" he exclaimed ; ^^ my dear master, 
 and the great warrior, are hastening by forced 
 marches to your relief, and, ere a week elapse, will 
 give battle to the enemythat beleaguer your walls." 
 
 ** Yes," continued Catherine; ** but will they 
 be in time to save the capital from destruction V 
 
 *^ Ere a week pass over our heads," replied the 
 bishop, *' Vienna will be a heap of ruins, and her 
 inhabitants the prey of rapine and the sword ; if 
 the imperial army raise not the seige within three 
 days, we are a lost people." Catherine made no 
 reply ; amidst tears, and smiles, and tremblings, 
 she had been absorbed in the perusal of her beloved 
 consort's letters ; and was now engaged in a low 
 and breathless dialogue with the Greek, without 
 appearing sensible that a single person, besides 
 they two, were present. Collonitz gazed at her 
 with an expression of deep interest and surprise ; 
 and then, with a sigh, turned away, in the idea that 
 her whole thoughts and affections were running in 
 another current ; no longer occupied with the ca- 
 lamities which threatened the state* 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 303 
 
 He was about to retire, when Kolschutzki, ad- 
 vancing, addressed himself to the noble prelate : 
 " Let me attend you, my lord ; I am ready to re- 
 ceive the governor's orders. I have heard all from 
 my excellent lady, — and will venture my life for 
 my adopted country." 
 
 '* You wish it ! you will do it!" exclaimed Cathe- 
 rine, in a tone of heroic enthusiasm ; ** yes," turn- 
 ing towards the bishop, '' I was not mistaken; 
 Kolschutzki offers to become the benefactor, —the 
 saviour of the capital,— of us all ! yet, alas! if he 
 should fall a victim to his heroism !" and she burst 
 into a flood of tears. 
 
 The good prelate was deeply affected ; he seized 
 the hand of the brave Greek, and thanked him in 
 the name of his unhappy country; while, addressing 
 himself to his excellent lady, Kolschutzki besought 
 her not to afflict herself, as it gave him far greater 
 pain, than the idea of the undertaking before him. 
 ** We all require to preserve our fortitude," observed 
 he, '' and I give you my sacred word that I will 
 do all in my power, to prove myself worthy of the 
 confidence you have placed in me ;" and he held 
 out his hand, as a pledge of what he said, which 
 his grateful mistress pressed to her bosom, and 
 covered with her tears. '' Adieu !" he cried ; " if 
 I return not, say every thing — you know all — to 
 my dear master, — that it was for you and him, I 
 
 ;" but the last words were lost, as he hurried 
 
 the good prelate away, to present him to Count 
 Stahremberg. 
 
 Agitated by conflicting emotions of alternate 
 hope and dread, Catherine Szlatinski, after having 
 disburthened her overcharged heart in prayer to 
 
304 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the throne of all mercies, returned to her pious 
 duties with greater fortitude and resignation, than 
 she had felt for some weeks past. 
 
 Meantime, the bold Greek was receiving the go- 
 vernor's despatches for the Duke of Lorraine, ac- 
 quainting him with the fearful crisis of affairs ; and 
 that within a very few days, without some decisive 
 action, the imperial city and its inhabitants, must 
 fall under the overwhelming assaults, and merciless 
 swords of the Mussulmans. The bold Greek* set 
 out on his perilous mission the same evening. It 
 was a dark and stormy night, not unfavourable 
 for such an expedition ; the rain fell in torrents, 
 and thunder and lightning mingled with the in- 
 cessant roar of the artillery. He hatl resumed his 
 Turkish disguise, in which he had already tra- 
 versed the enemy's camp, and issued forth through 
 the gate called the Schottenthor. Ere the ensu- 
 ing morning, he expected to be clear of the ene- 
 my's camp ; but the massy clouds, which gathered 
 thicker and blacker, as the night advanced, sent 
 forth such tremendous peals, mingled with hail 
 and storm, as compelled him to seek refuge in the 
 ruins of an adjacent building, destroyed by fire. 
 There he waited the first streak of dawn, which 
 f aowed him the innumerable tents of the foe, 
 ulretching into the distance, far as the eye could 
 embrace them. He dashed through the intervening 
 space into the lines, and through the thickest of 
 the camp, humming an old Turkish ballad, with 
 the most bold and careless air ; but as chance 
 
 * The exploit of Kolschutzki, as well as the details relative to 
 the siege, are wholly historical. At the period, appeared an ac- 
 count, with a portrait of this brave man, who was also honour- 
 ably mentioned in the bulletins. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 305 
 
 would have it, he got involved in a labyrinth of 
 windings and turnings, amidst the suburbs, and 
 after pursuing] his way for a considerable time, ar- 
 rived exactly at the place from which he had set 
 out. Though vexed, he did not abate a jot of 
 courage ; resumed his way, and even accepted the 
 invitation of an aga, who, seeing a fellow-country- 
 man drenched to the skin, asked him into his tent 
 to take breakfast. There he contrived to learn 
 the precise direction he ought to take, without 
 exciting any suspicion, holding out that he was 
 employed by higher Turkish authorities, and must 
 reach the banks of the river on matters of business. 
 Having heard much more intelligence, of an im- 
 portant nature, from the kindness of his host, than 
 he had expected, he thanked him for his hos- 
 pitable reception, and soon found himself happily 
 beyond the limits of the Ottoman camp. He then 
 took a circuitous route through the mountains, and 
 arrived at the banks of the river between Kloster- 
 Neuburg and Nussdorf. The sun had now risen, 
 and poured a flood of light upon the rich land- 
 scape, and the broad stream of the majestic river, 
 which seemed to sparkle with innumerable golden 
 rays. Behind him lay the troubled city, so fear- 
 fully menaced with destruction, with the glittering 
 tents of the infidels, so ferociously intent upon its 
 spoils. How strangely contrasted with the prospect 
 that lay before him ! all nature seemed bathed in 
 fresh and dewy light ; peace spread her wings over 
 the gentle dawn, — and reviving nature once more 
 spread abroad the influence of her quiet charms, 
 and those eternal laws of animated life and order, 
 
306 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 obeyed by all but the pride, and hatred, and 
 cruelty of man. 
 
 From afar, the sound of the enemy's artillery 
 rolled heavily upon the ear, answered by the 
 feebler fire of the capital, most painfully blended 
 with the matin song of a thousand warblers from 
 the neighbouring woods and thickets, with which the 
 islands of the Danube so much abound. The rain 
 had given a deeper glow to the verdure of the 
 meads and hills, enveloped in a soft grey mist 
 which the radiant sun was gradually dispersing 
 from the humid earth. 
 
 Upon the opposite side, he observed those pretty 
 hamlets which the scourge of war had yet spared ; 
 and could discern the peasants pursuing their quiet 
 labours of the field. To one fresh from all the 
 horrors of war, and its scenes of havoc and desola- 
 tion, such a sight was strangely affecting ; and for 
 some moments even the eye of the veteran Kol- 
 schutzki dwelt upon it with a feeling of unfeigned 
 pleasure. 
 
 Kloster-Neuburg, indeed, had sustained a siege; 
 but with rare valour had repulsed a division of the 
 Ottomans, under the direction of a lay-brother — 
 Marcellus Orkner, who, when all his brother monks 
 took to flight, alone remained to head the citizens, 
 — conquered, — and handed down his name with 
 applause, to posterity. 
 
 As he proceeded, Kolschutzki perceived a group 
 of Christian women in an islet not far from him, 
 under the shade of some ash and willow trees, en- 
 gaged in washing linen, and so intently, that they 
 did not see his approach. He called to them, — all 
 raised their eyes in a moment, and observing his 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 307 
 
 Turkish habit, were seized with such a panic, that 
 they ran calling out for help into an adjoining 
 thicket. Shortly there issued forth a number of 
 armed men, several of whom fired ; so that, after es- 
 caping the Turks, he saw himself upon the point of 
 losing his life by the hands of Christians. He 
 threw himself flat on his face, tore off his turban, 
 and cried aloud in good German, that he too was a 
 Christian. He then sprung up, and in an autho- 
 ritative tone, bade them ground their muskets, and 
 conduct him instantly to the tent of the Austrian 
 general. Upon this, an aged veteran advanced 
 towards him, and doffing his military cap, inquired, 
 " What might be the stranger's business V 
 
 '^ He wants a boat," replied Kolschutski, *' and 
 that full speedily ; here is my passport from the 
 governor, and let me see your officer." 
 
 The old soldier withdrew, and as quickly re- 
 turned, accompanied by a young man of noble 
 mein, whose military cloak and police hat, showed 
 that he was one in authority. 
 
 *^ You bear tidings from the city ?" addressing 
 himself to Kolschutzki ; '* follow me some hundred 
 yards down the banks, and we shall find a fishing- 
 boat, in which you must cross the river." 
 
 In a few minutes the active Greek had traversed 
 an arm of the Danube, and again presented him- 
 self before the officer on the next station. He was 
 received with evident marks of suspicion ; but dis- 
 daining to answer the sharp interrogatories put to 
 him, he took the last officer's passport from the 
 folds of his turban, and handing it with a smile, 
 observed, that he was happy to see what a deadly 
 x2 
 
308 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 abhorrence people every where had to the sight of 
 a turban. 
 
 '' So, you are called Kolschutzki ?" said the of- 
 ficer in authority ; '' and you have a house in the 
 Leopoldstadt ?" 
 
 " I once had, sir ; but it shared the fate of the 
 entire suburb." 
 
 '* Have you many connections in the capital?" 
 
 '' A good many ; I have been settled in Vienna 
 during several years." 
 
 *^ Did you happen to know any thing of the lord 
 chamberlain, Zriny ?" 
 
 ** Alas, too well; — too well!" answered Kol- 
 schutzki, with a deep sigh; *' but time presses — 
 why ask ? let me on to the general !" 
 
 Another boat was speedily in readiness, and the 
 last officer on the station, accompanied him into 
 the tent of the Duke of Lorraine. Here, after 
 delivering his letter, concealed in the inmost folds 
 of his turban, he waited till the general-in-chief 
 had perused it ; and then himself described the 
 deplorable state in which he had left the capital. 
 The duke listened to him with deep emotion, yet 
 warmly defended the course he had hitherto pur- 
 sued, as he would show, in his reply to the 
 governor, having delayed a general attack only 
 till he had obtained sufficient reinforcements. 
 They had now arrived, and he was preparing for a 
 decisive action, having already twice given battle to 
 Tokely ; and retaken Presburg. The moment that 
 the Polish monarch arrived was to be the signal for 
 marching to the assistance of the capital, by com- 
 pelling the Ottomans to give battle under its walls. 
 
 ** In a few days," he added, '^ I trust the siege 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 309 
 
 will be raised ; but we must not lose a moment ;" 
 and commanding his attendants to treat the brave 
 Greek with every mark of distinction, he retired 
 to prepare a written answer. 
 
 Kolschutzki, meantime, was exploring the quar- 
 ters of the general-in-chief, which were situated 
 between Angern and Stillfried, and exactly upon 
 the spot where, ages before, had been fought the 
 desperate battles between the Emperor Rodolph of 
 Hapsbourg and King Ottocar of Bohemia. On 
 his return, the daring emissary was accompanied 
 by General Housfiler, on the swiftest horses in the 
 camp, until he again reached the banks of the river. 
 Here he recommenced his perilous undertaking, in 
 which we shall not follow him, but return to the 
 distressed capital, where his arrival, or tidings of 
 his fate, were looked for with extreme anxiety and 
 impatience. It is impossible to depict the in- 
 creased sufferings of the inhabitants ; their almost 
 supernatural exertions to protract the terrific day 
 of its fall ; and the yet more intense agony, the 
 suspense, and just apprehensions, — all which he 
 was compelled to conceal, — which filled the breast 
 of Count Stahremberg. He knew, too well, from 
 the obstinate valour already displayed by the gar- 
 rison, that no quarter would be given by the 
 enemy ; that every street of the capital must flow 
 with Christian blood, and neither age nor sex obtain 
 exemption from the point of the sword. Nay, if 
 possible, worse horrors were in store for them than 
 death itself, — indignities too appalling to contem- 
 plate ; of which rapine, violation, and bondage, 
 were not the least. So small was now the broken 
 force opposed to the hordes of Ottomans, that 
 
310 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 every soldier or citizen who fell, still decreased the 
 chances of prolonged defence, by ten, or even a 
 hundred fold. In the momentary intervals of his 
 severe duties, his eye vras ever turned towards the 
 extensive plains on the left banks, from which signs 
 of approaching succour would first be discerned. 
 As he thus gazed, he uttered inwardly a secret 
 prayer, that, if doomed to utter destruction, he 
 might perish by the sword, ere he witnessed the 
 horrors of his country's downfall. 
 
 Two days more, and no reply to their repeated 
 signals of distress. On the morning of the third, 
 the guard of the Schottenthor gate, heard the signal 
 agreed upon to mark the return of the faithful 
 Kolschutzki. He had again escaped the perils of 
 a passage through the enemy's camp. He deliver- 
 ed his despatches, and gave an encouraging account 
 of the state of the imperial army. 
 
 "Are they in march? — will they fight? — will 
 they raise the siege?" inquired the count, with a look 
 of mingled rage and contempt, as he trampled the 
 letter he had just perused under his feet; '* when 
 will they give battle ?" 
 
 " The moment when Sobieski and his Poles 
 arrive !'' was the reply. 
 
 " Is it possible ? do they know we perish, and 
 that our country dies with us ? What ! dare they 
 not fight except under the wings of the Poles, or 
 do they dread the eye of Sobieski more than that 
 of the enemy, that they can march only in his 
 presence ? But let us do our duty, and the will of 
 God be done !" 
 
 The noble governor then thanked Kolschutzki in 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 311 
 
 the presence of the whole staff, and tendered him 
 the large sum agreed upon as the reward. 
 
 '* Place it, brave, and excellent sir,'' exclaimed 
 the Greek, '' in the public fund, for instant use ; 
 it is idle to talk of property at a moment like this. 
 Let us hasten to man the walls." 
 
 A shout of admiration, at these words, burst 
 from the whole of the officers ; and, as if inspired by 
 the heroic example, the sound was caught up by 
 the people, and all hastened with renewed vigour 
 to meet the onset of their bitter foe. During that, 
 and the ensuing day, the conflict was maintained 
 with the desperation of a closing death-struggle 
 on the side of the besieged, and with all the fury of 
 national hate and exasperation on that of the Mus- 
 sulman ; the thunder of the battle, and the storm- 
 ing, rolled with unmitigated wrath, day and night. 
 Along the whole extent of the Turkish lines, my- 
 riads of fresh troops rushed into the trenches, and 
 made desperate efforts to gain the walls ; they 
 scaled the ramparts, and here and there, turbaned 
 heads appeared for a moment, and were as fast 
 hurled from the walls. Despair gave courage to 
 the feeblest; every man was at his post, and soldier 
 and citizen fought side by side. Still, as the tide 
 of battle threatened to overwhelm the walls, it was 
 hurled back with as wild a fury ; shouts rent the 
 air, and one red, sulphureous canopy enveloped the 
 dread scene over which it rose, and shrouded the 
 face of the sky. Towards noon of the second day, 
 however, the unremitted fire of the enemy began to 
 slacken ; there was a pause in the rush of the 
 storming parties to the walls, and both sides, as if 
 
312 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 exhausted by the fiercely maintained struggle, 
 rested upon their arms. Had it continued only a 
 few hours longer, the capital must have fallen, and 
 it was but too evident that, should it be renewed, 
 there was no longer a hope of preserving it another 
 day against such fearful odds. 
 
 But the dawn of Austrian's salvation, — of the 
 imperial city, if not of Christian Europe itself, 
 at length appeared. The heroes of Poland, with 
 their warrior-king, the scourge of the Ottomans, at 
 their head, were seen in full march along the plains; 
 its martial van, bearing down directly upon the 
 seat of war. The Duke of Lorraine broke up his 
 camp to join them, and directed his route upon 
 Stokerens. The Turks, aware of his intention, 
 attacked him with the utmost fury ; but, animated 
 by the approach of the Poles, he succeeded in 
 repulsing them, and continued his march till he 
 formed a junction with Sobieski at Hollebrum. 
 He was favourably received by the great monarch, 
 and when he wished to conduct himself with the 
 usual forms, as he had done with the Emperor 
 Leopold, who exacted all the ceremonies observed 
 towards crowned heads, Sobieski cut him short, 
 and said, 
 
 ** I left the king behind me at Warsaw; 
 speak to me as a friend and brother in arms. He 
 then presented to the duke his son, James Sobieski, 
 just entering upon his first campaign, and request- 
 ed that he would be good enough to teach him the 
 great art of war. He next summoned the dukes of 
 Bavaria and of Saxony, each of whom was at the 
 head of his own troops, to assist him forthwith in 
 holding a council of war. The king himself pre- 
 
THE SIEGE or VIET^NA. 313 
 
 sided ; and it was deliberated whether it would be 
 practicable to pass the Danube at Tullen, and 
 thence take the shortest and most difficult route, 
 over the heavy mountains of Kahlenberg; or pro- 
 ceed by a longer and easier, but more circuitous 
 path by passing through the city of Presburg. 
 Several officers supported the latter plan, on the 
 ground that supposing Kara Mustapha to be ac- 
 quainted with their movements, he would obstinate- 
 ly dispute the passage of the river, and occupy the 
 most favourable positions in the broken and abrupt 
 roads through which they must pass, from which 
 it might be next to impossible to dislodge him. 
 But Sobieski knew the enemy with whom he had to 
 deal; his strange infatuation, and his determined 
 blindness. With his sure and rapid glance, he 
 penetrated the whole circumstances by which he 
 was surrounded, and it was decided, with the full 
 approbation of the electors, who deferred to his 
 judgment and experience, that the passage should 
 be made at Tullen. Not a moment was lost; pon- 
 toons and the artificers were transported thither in 
 carriages, while the army followed by forced 
 marches, in order to reach the river before the 
 enemy could collect any formidable force on that 
 point to resist their passage. From thence the 
 Austrians would be enabled to join, with like promp- 
 titude, from which they could simultaneously de- 
 scend to the rescue of the city.* 
 
 San dor Szlatinski, perfectly recovered from his 
 
 * As regards the march of the armies, the battle, and the 
 raising of the siege, the whole is historical, and the reader might 
 even follow the details upon the map of this part of Austria. 
 
314 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 wounds, accompanied the warlike monarch, whose 
 friendship and confidence he fully merited, and by 
 whom he had been placed high in command. He 
 led the van; there was no longer hesitation or 
 delay ; — all was prompt, rapid, and masterly ex- 
 ecution. The environs of Prague, and the adja- 
 cent country were covered with Christian troops, 
 and so swift, yet orderly was their march, that their 
 approach had not been announced at Vienna ; 
 which was preparing for its last, desperate resist- 
 ance, with resources so enfeebled, as to preclude 
 almost the possibility of success. The enemy 
 having had breathing time, once more prepared for 
 a general assault, directing their whole force against 
 the Scloten and Burg gates, to protect which the 
 imperialists had thrown up intrenchments at every 
 ten yards, bristling with artillery, and defended by 
 the remains of the garrison, the citizens, students, 
 and strangers, who all devoted themselves to this 
 service. There not being sufficient wood to form 
 the paUsades, the proprietors of several large man- 
 sions, insisted that the wood-work of their roofs 
 should be applied to that purpose. Besides the 
 beams, the iron bars were every where removed 
 from the entrances and the windows, for the com- 
 pletion of the same work. Scarcely had this been 
 done when the Turks were observed to be in motion, 
 while the watch, now constantly on duty, announc- 
 ed that their vast columns were forming and set- 
 ting out in different directions. The agas and 
 chief officers were seen flying hither and thither, 
 while their camp at Leopoldstadt was directing its 
 march on the Weinenberg, and numerous detach- 
 ments marched in haste towards the same position. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 315 
 
 Still the enemy ceased not his fire upon the city, 
 — sprung the whole of his mines, and supported 
 a heavy cannonade against the bastions of Leuvel 
 and la Burg. They had battered the whole for- 
 tifications on this side, and it was evident that the 
 fall of the city was nigh at hand. 
 
 Suddenly, two hours after mid-day, on the 11th 
 of September, the sound of cannon was heard 
 near the chapel of Leopoldsberg. The Turks, in 
 order of battle, returned it with a terrific fire. 
 Next appeared groups of Christian soldiers, upon 
 the heights beyond ; the enemy's assaults on the 
 city were redoubled, and ceased not with the dark- 
 ness of the night. Kara Mustapha, still sat 
 watching the result, plunged in deep and sad re- 
 flections : opposite him rose the walls, which, though 
 dreadfully injured by his terrific cannonades, he 
 had not yet been enabled to surmount ; he saw the 
 palace of the emperors riddled by his balls, yet 
 standing firm as the throne, which they had for 
 ages encompassed. The numerous spires of the 
 temples devoted to the true faith still pierced the 
 sky, around the majestic dome of St. Stephen's. 
 With what false hopes, then, had the haughty 
 vizier sat down before those walls, with a host of 
 two hundred thousand men ; led away by the 
 dreams of his astrologers, and the fair promises of 
 Tokely and Zriny, no less than by his own over- 
 weening presumption and ambition. Little had he 
 calculated on the resistance he had met with, pre- 
 dicting as he had done, not only the fall of the 
 Austrian monarchy, but that of the power of Rome, 
 and even of Christianity itself, as the consequence 
 of his known military talents, and previous good 
 
316 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 fortune. The imperial city, over whose ruins he 
 was to reach the Vatican, defied him to the last; 
 his army was discouraged, and the Janissaries, who 
 had restricted their services to a period of two-and- 
 forty days, began to murmur, loudly demanding 
 their discharge ; while a vast portion lay yet un- 
 buried upon the plain. The vizier had required a 
 few days' truce to inter them, but the governor, ap- 
 prehensive of treachery, had refused his consent, 
 invariably interrupting the attempt on the part of 
 the Turks, by repeated and vigorous sorties. His 
 efforts, likewise, to prevent the junction of the 
 Polish and Austrian armies had failed, attended 
 with considerable loss. An attack would now, he 
 foresaw, be made to rescue the capital, and he 
 might behold the fruits of his grand expedition 
 snatched in a moment from his grasp. 
 
 ** Never, never !" he exclaimed in bitter rage : 
 *' I must make myself master of the city; — the 
 key to all my ulterior projects.'' Thus excited and 
 maddened by disappointment, he persevered in 
 bombarding the place, regardless of the approach 
 of the liberating armies, opposing to them only a 
 portion of his immense forces, in the blind belief 
 that the Christians were predestined to behold the 
 storming of the capital, without the means of pre- 
 vention. He was, in short, seized with that infatua- 
 tion which, in haughty minds, inspires a confidence 
 of triumph, when standing upon the very brink of 
 destruction. 
 
 Measures of precaution, however, were not wholly 
 neglected by the Ottomans; watches were set, and 
 fires lighted on all sides, while the increased ac- 
 tivity and marshalling of the battalions, announced 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 317 
 
 the expected attack of the Christians. The curtains 
 of the grand vizier's tent were drawn aside, and he 
 beheld by the night-fires, the terrific progress of 
 devastation, from his continued bombarding, against 
 the half-ruined walls of the city. He observed 
 with savage joy, a fierce light issue from the tower 
 of St. Stephen's; it was the unhappy citizens, mak- 
 ing their last signals of distress. But his exulta- 
 tion was short, — a sudden blaze rose from a moun- 
 tain to the north-west ; and he hastily rose to 
 inquire into the cause. At the same instant, several 
 slaves arrived out of breath, bearing tidings that 
 discharges of musketry were heard from Mount 
 Kahlenberg ; the truth of which was confirmed 
 by two cannon shot, replied to by three others 
 from the ramparts of Vienna. It was the signal 
 for an attack upon the Turks. Kara Mustapha 
 was mad with rage ; he tore off his turban, stamped 
 and ground his teeth, like a desperate man. It 
 was some time, before he could give directions to 
 his different pachas, his agas, and other officers, 
 all hastening at once to receive his orders at so 
 critical a juncture. ** I have none to give you!" 
 he exclaimed in haughty and bitter tone, '' besides 
 what you have had these eight weeks, — to storm 
 and exterminate yonder city, under the eyes of the 
 Austrian army." In vain the pachas of Buda and 
 Scutari, represented the fruitlessness of such an 
 attempt, at such a moment ; but he persisted, and 
 angrily dismissed them from his presence. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the joy of the Vien- 
 nese upon receiving assurance that their deliverers 
 were at hand. Only those who have endured the 
 horrors of a nine weeks' siege, can form au ade- 
 
318 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 quate idea of the rapture with which a knowledge 
 of approaching succour is first hailed. The joyous 
 tidings spread with incredible rapidity ; people of 
 every age, men, women, and children, ran shouting 
 into the streets ; covered the roofs of the houses, 
 the towers, and churches, whence they could 
 perceive the fires of the Christian troops upon the 
 surrounding heights, extending from Mount Leo- 
 pold beyond those of Dornback. All who met, 
 however strange to each other, embraced like the 
 warmest friends ; the sick were no longer sensible 
 of their pains ; the afflicted forgot their woes, and 
 enemies their hatred, in the universal joy. The 
 remnant of the army, soldiers, volunteers, and 
 citizens, flew to the ramparts, eager to make a 
 sortie, and it was with difficulty Count Stahrem- 
 berg succeeded in restraining their impetuosity. 
 He knew the siege was not yet over. 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 319 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 At dawn of the succeeding day, the thunder of 
 the enemy's artillery bore witness that Kara Musta- 
 pha was still faithful to his designs of carrying the 
 capital by assault. Bui the day which must have 
 crowned the projects of the Musselman, was also 
 the signal for the Christian army to commence the 
 great work of deliverance under the auspices of 
 the Polish hero. It was the Sabbath, — the day con- 
 secrated to God ; solemn prayers were offered up, 
 and all was prepared to give battle under the ban- 
 ners of the cross. With the first streaks of morn 
 that broke on the Hungarian plains, and tinged the 
 waters of the Danube, the Polish monarch quitted 
 his tent, where he had spent the night in maturing 
 his plans ; the Duke of Lorraine, with his staff, 
 arrived soon after, and a council was held in the 
 half-ruined convent of the Camaldoli. There was 
 little in the appearance of Sobieski that announced 
 the hero ; his figure was short and thick set ; but 
 the fire which sparkled in his eye, the noble expres- 
 sion of his features, and the quickness of his mo- 
 tions, all combined to convey an impression of his 
 
320 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 genius. He wore the national dress, — long and 
 flowing, belted round the waist, from which hung a 
 short sabre with a gold hilt, the sleeves of his cloak 
 were open, and thrown back over his shoulders ; 
 he wore his hair short, with the Polish military cap. 
 He was accompanied by a numerous and brilliant 
 staff, consisting of all the great deputaries of his 
 kingdom. 
 
 The commanders and superior officers formed a 
 sort of half-circle as they stood before the king. He 
 saluted them with noble frankness and affability, 
 and then in brief and forcible terms, he reminded 
 them of the importance of the cause for which they 
 were that day about to combat, — the cause, not 
 only of their sovereign, their country, and their 
 honour ; but of the glory of God, and the safety of 
 Christian Europe. He next set out, followed by all 
 present, to the chapel of Leopoldsberg, where the 
 venerable father, Marcus Abianus, a capuchin, 
 distinguished for his piety, attended to perform 
 mass. After the ceremony, the holy man adminis- 
 tered the sacrament ; and the king, calling to him 
 his son, bade him kneel before the altar, where he 
 conferred on him the honour of knighthood, and 
 armed him with his own hands. 
 
 Sustained and excited by religious sentiments, 
 and with the example of the great monarch, each 
 betook himself to his respective post, and harangue- 
 ing the soldiers, sought to impress them with the 
 same pious courage and enthusiasm which they had 
 imbibed at the foot of the altar. The troops were 
 impatient to be led against the Ottomans : at their 
 feet lay the Austrian capital, almost obscured from 
 view by the morning mists, and the thick clouds of 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 321 
 
 smoke from the enemy's artillery, while a light 
 breeze from the east brought the sound of the last 
 assault of the Ottomans, — the springing of the 
 mines, and the rolling of the heavy mortars, — more 
 loudly upon the ear. All convinced Sobieski that 
 not a moment was to be lost. 
 
 The left winoj, commanded by the Duke of Lor- 
 raine, consisted of Austrian and Saxon troops ; the 
 Prince of Waldeck led the centre, assisted by the 
 Duke of Bavaria ; while Sobieski, — the soul of these 
 immense limbs of war, — took his station on the right 
 wing, — the flower of the Poles, — which extended 
 along the heights, as far as Dornback. Five dis- 
 charges of cannon was the signal for the attack, 
 and the allied columns began to move into the 
 plains. At this signal, the pachas rode full gallop to 
 the grand vizier's tent, to receive his orders for the 
 action, which it was evident could no longer be 
 avoided. But Kara Mustapha, like one whom the 
 fates had driven into madness, as a prelude to his 
 destruction,* pointed only to the capital, crying out: 
 " Vienna! Vienna! on, on; — more bombs and mor- 
 tars, — storm ! — bullets ! — scaling ladders ! — fire the 
 four quarters of the town !" The Khan of Tartary 
 now insisted, that the whole of the besieging troops 
 should make head against the new enemy, whose 
 rapidity and formidable force called for decisive 
 action. The grand vizier foamed with rage, rolled 
 upon the ground, and tore his beard and hair in an 
 access of fury and despair. The Pacha of Dia- 
 berskir was the only man capable of reducing him 
 to reason, and he compelled him to place himself at 
 
 ♦ Quern Deus vult perdere prius dementat. 
 Y 
 
322 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 the head of his army. The standard of the prophet 
 was unfurled ; the vizier gave the command of the 
 right wing before Neudorf, to the Pacha Osman 
 Oglon ; the left was under the orders of the Pacha 
 of Peterwaradin, and opposed to the Poles near 
 Herrnals, while the vizier himself led on the centre. 
 Still he insisted that the Kiaja Bey should remain 
 in the trenches, and support a continued fire against 
 the enemy, — the few remaining soldiers and citizens, 
 who, in the extremest need and anguish of mind, 
 still held out the capital against such fearful odds. 
 The grand battle in the plains was opened by the 
 left wing of the Christian army ; the Turks dis- 
 puted every foot of ground along the vineyards, so 
 as to render the progress of the Austrians extremely 
 slow and doubtful. At length, they began to gain 
 ground, and towards mid-day, the whole of the 
 allied army had occupied its several stations in the 
 plain. The Christians presented a half-circle, ex- 
 tending from Dornback, as far as the river ; and, 
 in this position, the combat was commenced at 
 every point. On the left of the Turks, the result 
 was for some time doubtful. Ibrahim Pacha suc- 
 ceeded even in repulsing the Poles, but Sobieski, 
 who had slain many of the enemy with his own 
 hand, and among others, a pacha, returned with 
 such impetuosity to the charge, as compelled the 
 bravest Mussulman to recoil. Meantime, the Duke 
 of Lorraine, penetrating the right wing of the Turks, 
 behind Dubleing, there maintained a fierce struggle, 
 which ended in his driving them back, without 
 being deterred by the fire of six cannon, from an 
 entrenchment which still bears his name, and pur- 
 sued the enemy as far as Weinheim. The Poles, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 323 
 
 however, with their valiant kin^ at their head, were 
 first and last in the strife, as in the pursuit. San- 
 dor Szlatinski, who fought in the van, leading on 
 one of the most gallant regiments, not far from the 
 king, soon approached the city, bearing down the 
 broken ranks of the Mussulmans. The fire of 
 their artillery had ceased ; the flight of the Turks 
 was seen from the towers and walls, and repeated 
 discharges of cannon from the ramparts proclaim- 
 ed the joyous tidings to the inhabitants. At the 
 same instant, the SchaufFen gate, and the remain- 
 ing garrison, sallied forth, desirous of sharing, in 
 some measure, in the glory of the day. The battle, 
 however, was still maintained in some parts of the 
 field ; but the presence of the Poles every where 
 inspired terror among the infidels, and these gal- 
 lant spirits had already won their way as far as the 
 glacis. 
 
 The grand vizier commanded the standard of the 
 prophet to be planted firmly before his tent, and 
 proclaimed on all sides, that every true Mussulman 
 must rally round the sacred symbol of his faith. 
 Numbers gathered round him, forming a sort of 
 sacred band of Ottomans, round which the desti- 
 nies of their religion and their country yet seemed 
 to linger. Placing himself at their head, and ga- 
 thering strength step by step, the grand vizier 
 rushed into action with the Poles, who, with rare 
 intrepidity, sustained the desperate shock, without 
 recoiling a single foot of ground. At the same 
 time, the wretched Mussulmans were attacked in 
 the rear by the garrison ; but still defended them- 
 selves with the resolution of despair. They were 
 t2 
 
324 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 nearly all cut to pieces ; and the Poles, who that 
 day performed prodigies of valour, actually met 
 the feeble soldiers of the garrison face to face, after 
 annihilating the ranks of Mussulmans which had 
 stood between them. It was a singular and affect- 
 ing moment : here, indeed, was their deliverance 
 crowned, and by the very hands which had accom- 
 plished the redemption of Austria, of Europe, and 
 perhaps of the Christian world. The saviours and 
 the saved recoiled from their dread work as they 
 thus suddenly met; the sternness of the soldier, 
 and the fierce thirst of carnage, died momentarily 
 away ; they stopped, and surveying each other in 
 silence, then rested upon their arms. The Aus- 
 trians soon burst into loud hurrahs of admiration 
 and gratitude for their deliverers, who, even at that 
 moment, had rescued them, surrounded as they 
 were by overwhelming numbers, from imminent 
 death. One of these, whom Szlaiinski had saved 
 when at the point of an Ottoman's sword, now ran 
 forward, and seized his hand. They started as 
 they gazed into each other's features, — the colour 
 fled from their cheeks : was it — could it be pos- 
 sible, that the two now folding each other in amity, 
 had last parted in the grasp of deadliest hate ? 
 
 Yes ; true as it was strange, Szlatinski, and his 
 rival, Scalvinoni, each of whom believed the other 
 to be then lying dead in his grave, had met, bat- 
 tling in the same cause. Had each beheld an 
 apparition, he could not have started with a stran- 
 ger and wilder look ; but Scalvinoni recognised his 
 deliverer in his rival, and, exchanging looks of 
 mutual forgiveness, they grasped each other's hands, 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 325 
 
 and uttered a few brief, incoherent words of wel- 
 come and gratitude on the part of the Austrian, 
 like beings who had met in another world. 
 
 At the same moment, the sound of trumpets and 
 cymbals was heard to the left of the glacis, and 
 they joined Prince Louis of Baden, who, at the 
 head of the men of Wurtemburg, had penetrated 
 as far as the counter-scarp before the SchaufTen 
 gate, and attacked the Turks in the centre. The 
 grand vizier still defended himself with difficulty, 
 at the head of the Janissaries, and other veterans, 
 who had rallied round the standard of the prophet, 
 in a position at Lollewich ; but he was there attacked 
 by Sobieski, who, after an obstinate struggle, com- 
 pelled him once more to fly. Towards evening, the 
 fate of the Turks was decided. The vizier made 
 his escape, most probably only to retard the evil 
 day for a short time ; there being no doubt that, on 
 receiving tidings of his defeat, the sultan would 
 present him with the fatal bow-string. 
 
 General Dunerwald was also one of the heroes of 
 this memorable day. On learning that in an adja- 
 cent island, the Turks were slaying their Christian 
 captives in cold blood, he threw himself, on horse- 
 back, into the Danube ; the body-guard followed 
 his example, and they arrived in time to save a 
 great number of unfortunate prisoners, while their 
 executioners perished, either by water or the sword. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sobieski and his Poles had taken pos- 
 session of the grand vizier's tent, the treasures it 
 contained, his war-steed, and the whole of his 
 costly equipage. The king resolved to pass the 
 night beneath this barbarian canopy ; for after two 
 days' forced marches, the toils and achievements 
 
326 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 of that terrific battle, both the monarch and his 
 army stood in no common need of repose. Only 
 part of the army pursued the Turks as far as Fis- 
 chament, consisting chiefly of the Austrian divi- 
 sions. The Duke of Lorraine sent off his aide-de- 
 camp, Count Aversperg, the same evening, to 
 Durrenstein, with tidings of the victory to the em- 
 peror. It was thus, on the day consecrated to 
 Christian worship, that the imperial capital, the 
 seat of Christianity, was delivered from extreme 
 peril and sufferings ; while the followers of the 
 false prophet saw the glory of so great a conquest 
 vanish for ever from their view. 
 
 During the night, the conqueror's fires blazed 
 over the enemy's camp, and illuminated the en- 
 virons of the town ; true feux de jois were sent up 
 by the exulting inhabitants, strangely contrasted 
 with the terrific fires which had lately enveloped 
 the trembling capital. Count Stahremberg, to 
 obviate the least apprehension of confusion or dis- 
 order, issued orders that no one should be permitted 
 to quit the interior, until the following morning, 
 when the gates were to be thrown open. How 
 many, that night, sat absorbed in anxiety and sus- 
 pense, at the fate of the absent objects of their 
 affection. Among these were the lovely Catherine 
 Szlatinski and her friend Julia, whose rejoicings at 
 the wonderful event, could not reconcile them to 
 the fearful hazards encountered by those they loved. 
 On the morning of the 13th of September, throngs 
 of the citizens rushed forth to visit the Turkish 
 camp ; some scaled the half ruined walls, and 
 leaped into the ditches below ; while the gates and 
 streets were filled with the exulting multitude. The 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 327 
 
 camp was found to contain immense wealth ; — 
 magazines of every kind, jewels, arms, horses, and 
 more than fifteen thousand tents, with provisions 
 and utensils of all descriptions. The whole of 
 these spolia opima, was given over to the people as 
 a recompense for their fearful sufferings and gallant 
 defence. 
 
 Count Stahremberg, followed by his staff, now 
 paid a visit to the king of Poland, who received 
 the veteran defender of the capital as a friend and 
 a brother. They were joined by the Duke of 
 Lorraine, and the three warriors repaired together 
 to examine the state of the fortifications, and ascer- 
 tain the extent of what would be necessary to 
 repair them. The morning was sultry, and a 
 glorious sun shone resplendently upon the scene. 
 
 Meanwhile, Catherine, overcome by a variety of 
 contending emotions, had retired to her own apart- 
 ment. The capital was saved. Sandor lived, and 
 still loved her. But, alas ! she had promised to 
 obey her mother's wishes, and to take the veil; — and 
 the maimed rites of her marriage, offered no sufficient 
 obstacle. Throwing herself on her knees, she ap- 
 pealed for aid and counsel, from Him alone who can 
 direct his creatures in the hour of trouble : she arose 
 refreshed and resigned, and then retiring to rest, 
 slept with the soft calm of innocence and peace, 
 till the morning sun broke upon her slumbers. 
 
 The first thought which visited her pillow, was 
 that on that day she would once more behold the 
 friend and betrothed of her youth. Her heart beat 
 high, as she looked forth and beheld only joy and 
 festivity throughout the streets of that great capital. 
 All was inatumult of triumph and exultation, such 
 
328 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 as SO wonderful and unhoped for a victory was 
 calculated to excite; every street and square 
 teemed with happy throngs, applauding the bravery 
 of the gallant Poles, and their hero king ; and, 
 behold ! in the midst of one of those festive groups, 
 she caught the v/hite plumes of a Polish Hulan, 
 high towering above all heads. She felt her heart 
 leap with conscious love; for it was on that spot 
 but two months previously, she had the last glance 
 of the retreating figure of the noble Sandor. But 
 now he was rapidly approaching her, — nearer, and 
 yet more near. Yes, it was her lover-husband ; 
 she had felt it could be no other, and a quick 
 half stifled cry of joy burst from her lips. At 
 the same moment, she ran as if to greet him — 
 then as suddenly drawing back, she stood con- 
 fused and breathless, upon the threshold of her 
 chamber. Oh, no ! how could she in the pre- 
 sence of others, give expression to the bounding 
 joy and tenderness which glistened in her eye, 
 and animated every feature — every fibre of her 
 sensitive being. But the happy soldier had already 
 caught sight of the charming vision ; and ere she 
 could recover herself to composure, he was at her 
 side ; he held her in his arms, and both partook of 
 that rapture of restored love, which they found no 
 words to express. Not a person in the household 
 had yet arisen; he took her back into her chamber, 
 and there they were for some time eagerly engaged 
 in conversation, and amply repaying themselves 
 for all the anxieties and exertions they had under- 
 gone. 
 
 How much had they not to ask each other? 
 and the tears fell fast from the sweet girl's eyes, as 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIEl^NA. 329 
 
 she recalled to mind the agony she had suffered on 
 first hearing of the supposed fatal result of the 
 duel. 
 
 ** Ah ! my dear Catherine, and how learnt you 
 that V 
 
 She told, in broken accents, or rather sighs, as she 
 involuntarily pressed the hand which held her own : 
 *'Alas!" she murmured, *' was it possible that I 
 should not be aware of an event in which you were 
 so deeply interested, dear Szlatinski ? — not the 
 least thing but I knew, as well as I do that you 
 have just saved the life of an officer at the risk of 
 your own. I heard it yesterday — every particu- 
 lar of it.^^ 
 
 ** You heard it yesterday V* exclaimed Sandor, 
 *' why, my sweet Catherine, that is hardly possible — 
 it happened but yesterday, and in the evening." 
 
 *' I knew of it yesterday, at eight o'clock." 
 
 '* By what miracle, my love V inquired the sol- 
 dier, a little anxiously. 
 
 "By him whose life you saved — by M. de 
 Scalvinoni." 
 
 ^* What ! hurried he to your house, at the mo- 
 ment of his return ! — is he then admitted at any 
 hour pleasing to him ?" 
 
 " Dearest Sandor !" exclaimed the alarmed girl, 
 in a tone of deep tenderness ; " is there yet a 
 shade of your most unreasonable jealousy remain- 
 ing?" And such was the beautiful truth and touch- 
 ing passion for him, breathing in her whole voice 
 and looks, as to carry full conviction to his 
 mind. 
 
 " Yes, best of cousins," he observed, " I for ever 
 abjure my unjust suspicions, both of you and of 
 
330 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 him. Scalvinoni is, perhaps, a little presumptuous 
 — a little vain of his fine figure, and his success 
 with frivolous women ; but he has not a bad 
 heart. I saw him yesterday conduct himself like 
 a hero, and his frank bearing towards me after our 
 duel, was that of a generous, noble-minded gen- 
 tleman. No ! since he confesses to you, that he 
 owes his life to me, I feel it is impossible that he 
 can wish to deprive me of a treasure more precious 
 in my eyes than words can tell !" and his voice 
 trembled, and his eyes were bent on her with a 
 rapturous tenderness, which told her how deeply 
 rooted was the youthful passion, which had grown 
 and strengthened with his growth. 
 • *' Nor would it be an easy task for him," re- 
 plied Catherine, with equal fervour, yet smiling as 
 she spoke ; *^ do you imagine he could deprive you 
 of me ? — No, Sandor, you do not. Why ! I have 
 only seen him twice since you left us, and then I 
 only saw the hand which had wounded one so 
 dear. Yesterday he came to visit the lady of 
 Dunerwald, to bring her tidings of her husband — 
 of you yourself; and he had the delicacy to refuse 
 even to see me." 
 
 '' Then pardon, pardon, my love," cried Sandor : 
 " I own all my faults — I was wrong to harbour 
 the shadow of a doubt ; but it is the last ; and this 
 be a new test of my unbounded affection for my 
 sweetest betrothed !" and he folded her pas- 
 sionately in his arms as he spoke. 
 
 ** But, oh, heavens !" exclaimed Catherine, 
 " say not that word betrothed — you remind me 
 of my promise to my mother and father Isidor." 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 331 
 
 " What mean you, love; it is a sweet word — 
 for it is my sweetest hope — on which all my fu- 
 ture happiness rests — what promise then ?" 
 
 *' I beseech you, dearest Sandor," was the 
 reply; do not let us dash with grief, the bliss of 
 restored delight like ours — such as these dear, too 
 brief moments give. Whatever may happen you will 
 live in my heart — my beloved cousin — my only 
 friend on earth! But I must awake my mother!" 
 she exclaimed, extricating herself with difficulty 
 from his arms : ** it is but right she should partake 
 of our joy — in beholding one whom she really so 
 much loves." 
 
 Away she ran, — but almost as soon returned with 
 a kind summons from the lady of Volkersdorf, for 
 Sandor to attend her in her chamber, where he was 
 received with the most gratifying expressions of re- 
 gard. Soon, however, the good aunt began to read 
 him a severe lecture upon the crime of duelling, 
 which she declared was only a polite name for wilful 
 murder, and then intreated of him to recount, with 
 the utmost exactness, all the particulars of the 
 grand rout and slaughter of those horrid infidels 
 and barbarians— the bloody-minded Turks. She 
 could not hear enough of the terrible amount of 
 slain, but bade him repeat it, and counted it over 
 and over upon her fingers, to be certain she missed 
 none of the tens, twenties, thirties, forties, fifty- 
 thousands ; and there she stopped, with exclamations 
 of heart-felt delight. Then giving them a few no 
 less hearty maledictions, she trusted there would 
 be no more fear of their return; on which Sandor 
 exchanged a smile with his beautiful cousin, ob- 
 
332 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 serving; *^ Certainly, I think not, — if we are count- 
 ing the vast horde of them we have killed." 
 
 But Catherine was too happy to listen to these 
 astounding details, which called forth so many 
 notes of admiration from her pious mother. She 
 sat with her eyes fixed on Sandor, — her ears drink- 
 ing in the accents of his manly voice, without un- 
 derstanding a word of all the absurdities uttered 
 by the weak old dowager of Clamm castle. 
 
 The only thing which now troubled the fair girl, 
 was the idea of a cloister, and being separated 
 from her beloved cousin. Had he been lost to her, 
 she could entirely have resigned herself to such a 
 fate, and ceased not to weep over him in her soli- 
 tary cell : but now it was different ; he appeared in 
 all the charm of lofty mind and manhood, crowned 
 with victory, beloved by his prince ; with love and 
 joy beaming in his countenance, and throwing him- 
 self, and all he possessed at her feet. 
 
 Oh! how could she refuse? how could she con- 
 sent to part with him more? But the time had 
 come, — the siege of the capital was raised ; and 
 the gates of the convent were open to receive her ; 
 nor would the fears and superstition of her mother, 
 directed by the holy father, allow her to retract. 
 
 Often, then, the tears started into Catherine's 
 eyes, as she gazed on the noble features of Sandor, 
 every day becoming more dear to her, — the hope 
 of being united to him, grew hourly more delight- 
 ful to her ; and all her desires, her every thought, 
 became centered in that one cherished idea. 
 
 The mother, the daughter, and the nephew, were 
 engaged in an interesting conversation, when a 
 royal order from the Polish king summoned his 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 333 
 
 favourite officer to his side. Sobieski was about 
 to make his solemn entry into the Christian capital, 
 which, as well perhaps as Christendom itself, he 
 had just rescued from the grasp of the triumphant 
 moslem, who, but for his little nation of heroes, had 
 laid Europe prostrate before the victorious crescent, 
 and the creed, which proclaims no conqueror but 
 God, and that Mohammed, his sword, was also his 
 prophet. The royal Pole invited his brave young 
 adjutant to meet him in the church of the Augus- 
 tines, there to chaunt the Te Demn, in honour of 
 the splendid victory they had achieved. 
 
 The soldier embraced his aunt, and his fair cousin, 
 and while he girded on his sabre, observed with a 
 speaking smile to Catherine, that his Polish majesty 
 had guessed well where he was likely to be found ; 
 and then, with a peculiar expression, entreated of 
 the ladies, that they would not fail to be present at 
 the grand ceremony in the metropolitan church. 
 Catherine had no difficulty in persuading her mo- 
 ther, and the Lady of Dunerwald herself proposed 
 to conduct them to the solemn scene. 
 
 The magnificent procession of Polish conquerors, 
 made their military entree by the gate of Sluben- 
 thor, for all the others were, up to this time, barri- 
 caded. Preceding the great king, were displayed 
 the Austrian banners, and those of Poland pierced 
 through and through with balls; and, led in a leash, 
 appeared the war-horse of the terrible grand vizier. 
 Behind the royal and victorious Pole, rode the 
 Duke of Lorraine, Count Stahremberg, the elector 
 of Bavaria, while the prince of Poland, and the 
 emperor of Austria, were at his side. — And then 
 followed the whole of the Polish and Austrian 
 
334 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 officers, without observing any other order or rank, 
 than that which the superior valour of the honoured 
 Poles had justly entitled them to. Sandor Szla- 
 tinski rode near his royal master, and next him 
 appeared his former rival, Scalvinoni, now his 
 friend, conversing in the most confidential manner. 
 Masses of the people pressed upon this strangely 
 combined retinue of royal kings and wari^iors ; for 
 they felt that to the great Sobieski and his heroic 
 Poles, not only was Austria herself, but entire 
 Europe, and perhaps Christendom, at that hour 
 indebted for their salvation. What shouts of tri- 
 umph ! what plaudits of the great Polish hero, and 
 his army rang through the air ! when in the wake of 
 the national colours were borne captive, the nu- 
 merous horse-tails of the pachas and commanders, 
 seldom before seen in the procession of a victorious 
 foe. 
 
 The countless multitudes pressed on to gain a 
 sight of the hero of the day ; to catch a sight of 
 the royal Pole ; to touch, if possible, his war-horse, 
 his military robes, his arms ; — but that was too 
 great a boast. It was enough to tell their children 
 that they had been near — had seen the great So- 
 bieski, the saviour of their country, the deliverer 
 of Vienna, and of its trembling monarch, — and 
 fresh shouts of exultation rang through the city, as 
 he was about to enter the cathedral, from thou- 
 sands of voices which, before his appearance, had 
 sunk into the lowest key of abjectness and despair. 
 
 But, at the moment when he alighted, and 
 marched into the sacred edifice, the various bells 
 and clocks of the public halls and temples, before 
 silent, burst into a mighty peal of triumph and 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 335 
 
 gratulation. It was then that Catherine, who, 
 with her mother and kind friend, had already ob- 
 tained a full view of the proceedings from the gal- 
 lery, fixed her eyes upon that gallant king, so 
 admired by him she loved, — but, when the latter 
 appeared, she had no longer eyes even for royalty 
 and glory itself. 
 
 The whole of this splendid and heroic proces- 
 sion advanced towards a chapel constructed in the 
 midst of the nave ; where they threw themselves 
 upon their knees, and poured forth their gratitude 
 to the great God of battles, for the Almighty sup- 
 port which he had been pleased to afford them 
 in the cause of the pure and true religion of 
 Christ. 
 
 When mass was concluded, the polish king, 
 whose piety was not surpassed by his fame in arms, 
 advanced^towards the altar, and himself gave out the 
 Te Deum, which was replied to by a sudden flood 
 of sacred song — the rich choir of timbrels and of 
 horns, mingling with the vocal music of thousands 
 of voices, swelled upon the air. And soon the 
 venerable bishop ascended into the pulpit, and in 
 a discourse which had for its text, *' there was a 
 man sent by God, whose name was John,"* he 
 eloquently held forth on the grand topic which ab- 
 sorbed all minds and hearts. Ashe spoke, all eyes 
 were directed towards the royal Pole, John So- 
 bieski, and his gallant train. During the Te 
 Deum thirty cannon, placed upon the rampart, 
 gave forth their terrible voices, as if to confirm the 
 
 • An apt allusion to John Sobieski, whom all writers of the 
 times agree in extolling as the most chivalrous of princes. 
 
336 THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 truth of the preacher's statement, in honour of 
 their heroic deliverer. 
 
 At length his august majesty, surrounded with 
 all these glorious marks of homage, retired from 
 the church. He then received his numerous friends 
 and companions in arms, and Szlatinski, with 
 marked pleasure and delight. Next the people of 
 rank, and spectators of the gallery, approached 
 the spot where he stood to gain a nearer sight of 
 the deliverer. Szlatinski was soon at the side of 
 his fair cousin, and her mother, whom he led for- 
 ward to introduce to the great king. It was now 
 that an incident took place, which attracted all eyes. 
 When the fair Catherine was presented, Sobieski 
 saluted her with an air of mingled gallantry and ten- 
 derness ; then, turning towards the awe-struck, and 
 admiring dowager, he spoke to her a few words, at 
 the same moment taking the hand of his young 
 officer, and placing it in that of the fair Catherine, 
 which he had still held in his. The Lady of Vol- 
 kersdorfF could only bow obedience to his royal 
 wishes, while a joy they could not suppress, flashed 
 from the eyes of the delighted cousins, whose union 
 was thus sanctioned by an authority, from which 
 there could be no more appeal. 
 
 The monarch and his staff then proceeded to the 
 mansion of Count Stahremberg, who had prepared 
 for them a magnificent entertainment ; while the 
 throngs of citizens now rushed towards the Turkish 
 camp, — some out of curiosity, others bent on pil- 
 lage ; and the immensity of treasures seemed fully 
 to recompense them for all their previous terrors, 
 and their loss. 
 
 And soon appeared amidst them the good Bishop 
 
THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 337 
 
 of CoUonitz, who, accompanied by several ecclesi- 
 astics and magistrates, proceeded to examine the 
 field and camp. The faithful Kolschutzki had di- 
 rected his attention to a treasure of a very different 
 kind ; more than five hundred Christian orphans 
 were found abandoned by their cruel captors, — 
 destitute, without raiment or a morsel of food. This 
 to him was the most precious booty of the day ! 
 he had them tenderly relieved, and conducted 
 into the city, where they were apportioned out in 
 one of the humane societies over which he presided. 
 
 In the evening, the King of Poland returned to 
 his own camp near Ebersdorf. The surrounding- 
 atmosphere was infected with the smell of decayed 
 carcasses of men and animals, which it had not 
 been possible to discover and inter. But this was 
 Sobieski's next care ; and having refreshed his 
 troops, he instantly set out on a vigorous pursuit 
 of the Turks in Hungary. 
 
 Sandor, the happy lover, accompanied him as far 
 as Oran, where the generous king freed him from 
 all farther service, permitting him to return to 
 Vienna, and accomplish the long-wished-for union, 
 which he had prepared for him. But the grateful 
 soldier would not avail himself of his royal master's 
 offer, till he had promised subsequently to restore 
 him once more to active service, and the hope of 
 benefiting his country. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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