of the trumpets, announcing the entry of the Queen; the opening of the door, to the right of the throne, through which she passed; the murmur, and partial confusion, which attended her ascending the steps, and placing herself in presence of that crowded assembly, scarcely roused him from his reverie. But when he raised his eyes, he scarcely could credit their own evidence. There she stood on high before him! The crown of St Stephen of Hungary was on her lofty brow: the royal mantle covered her shoulders: the bejewelled cimiter of the Hungarian kings was at her side. In her arms she held a baby of about six months of age; in her left hand she clasped that of a little girl. She was there in all her dazzling splendour of royal beauty. And it was she!--she to whom his heart was given--she whom he had dared to love! For a moment the whole scene whirled before the eyes of Otmar: he staggered as one struck by lightning: his pale cheek grew paler still: he felt as if he were falling to the earth. How he found a tongue to speak, he himself could not have told. But, with faltering voice, he turned to an old Hungarian magnate by his side, and stammered-- "Is it possible? Is that--she--our King--is that?" "Who should it be, _domine illustrissime_?" answered the person thus addressed, with the Latin courtesy of the country. "Who should it be, friend?" Again Otmar found force to falter forth-- "And he, who has given her his hand to mount the throne--he who now stands behind her, glittering in all the rich fancifulness of that outlandish dress--who is _he_?" "Humph!" replied the old Hungarian, in no very amiable tone of voice. "That is her favourite German minister, the young Prince Kaunitz--a silly fop! She might have better and less compromising servants about her person, methinks. As you seem a stranger, _domine_," he pursued, unheeding Otmar's agitation, "you may like to know that the old ecclesiastic, who has taken the other place behind her, is our Archbishop Primate, the Prince Emmeric Esterhazy, at whose summer palace she took up her residence, _incognita_, on first arriving here." "Kaunitz! her favourite minister, and she called him 'my friend!'" muttered the young man, trembling with emotion. "Yes! and they do say," continued his informant lightly, "that now her husband, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, is absent with the remains of her discomfited army, she and the young prince"--and he whispered in Otmar's ear. A pang of the bitterest feeling passed through the young noble's heart. But that pang, by its very revulsion, gave him fresh energy. "Calumny!" he exclaimed, angrily, to his companion, whom he doubted not to be one of those disaffected to the cause of the persecuted Queen. "Calumny!" But his voice was drowned in the loud murmur which arose on all sides calling for silence.