New cheers rent the air at this moment. A squad of peasants brought the great imperial eagle, which they had taken down from the tomb of Maximilian in the High Church of Innspruck. They had decorated it with red ribbons, and carried it amid deafening acclamations through the streets. On beholding the eagle of Austria, the excited masses set no bounds to their rejoicings; they flocked in crowds to gaze at it; citizens and peasants vied in manifesting their devotion to the precious emblem; they blessed it and kissed it. No one was permitted to stay a long while near it, for the impatience of his successor compelled him to pass on. But an aged man, with silvery hair, but with a form still vigorous and unbent, would not allow himself to be pushed on in this manner. An hour ago he had fought like a lion in the ranks of the Tyrolese, and anger and rage had flashed from his face; but now, at the sight of the Austrian eagle, he was as mild and gentle as a lamb, and only love and blissful emotion beamed from his face. He encircled the eagle with both his arms, kissed the two heads and gilded crowns, and, stroking the carved plumes tenderly, exclaimed: "Well, old eagle, have your plumes really grown again? Have you returned to the loyal Tyrol to stay here for all time to come? Will--" Loud cheers interrupted him at this moment. Another crowd of Tyrolese came up the street, preceded by four peasants, who were carrying two portraits in fine golden frames. Deafening acclamations rent the air as soon as the people beheld these two portraits. Everybody recognized them as those of the Emperor Francis and the Archduke John. The peasants had found them in the old imperial palace. "John!" shouted the people in the streets, and in the houses which the procession passed on its march through the city. Even the Austrian eagle, which had been greeted so tenderly, was forgotten at the sight of the two portraits, and all accompanied this solemn procession of love and loyalty. This procession moved through the whole city until it finally reached the triumphal arch which Maria Theresa had ordered to be erected in honor of the wedding of her son Leopold. The Tyrolese placed the portraits of Leopold's two sons on this triumphal arch, and surrounded them by candles kept constantly burning; every one then bent his knee, and exclaimed: "Long live the Emperor Francis! Long live our dear Archduke John!" Woe unto him who should have dared to pass these portraits without taking off his hat! the Tyrolese would have compelled him to do it, and to bend his knee. "Well," they exclaimed, "there is our Francis, and there is our John. Look, does it not seem as though he were smiling at us, and were glad of being here again and able to gaze at us? Long live our dear Archduke John!" And they again burst into cheers which, if the Archduke John had been able to hear them, would have filled his heart with delight and his eyes with tears.