The only court ceremony at which the Empress appeared after the death of her son was on the occasion of the visit of the present Czar and Czarina of Russia to Vienna. Her presence at the state reception given in their honor excited even more interest and curiosity than did that of the young Czarina herself, and all eyes were fixed upon her as she entered on the arm of the Russian Emperor, smiling and bowing graciously to those about her. She was dressed in black, as usual, but looked twenty years younger than any of her contemporaries. In spite of all her sorrows and sufferings she could still be truthfully called the most beautiful woman at her court. But her thoughts were continually straying from her guests and from the brilliant scene about her. “There often seems to be a thick veil between me and the world, as if I were masquerading in the costume of an Empress,” she once remarked. “When I am with people I only show the part of me that we have in common, and they are surprised that I am so much like them when I talk about the weather and the price of candy. It is like taking a dress out of the wardrobe and putting it on for certain occasions.” In 1896 Hungary celebrated her thousandth anniversary. Elizabeth was even more miserable than usual at the time, and did not feel that she could be present, but it was urged that her absence would cast a shadow over the festivities, and, ill as she was both in body and mind, she finally was persuaded and appeared beside her husband on the throne. Dressed all in black, with a long veil worn Hungarian fashion over her hair, she sat pale and motionless as a statue, her long eyelashes drooping and an expression of unspeakable sadness on her lovely face. Not a muscle moved as the speaker began his address of welcome. She seemed neither to see nor hear until he spoke the word “Elizabeth” and a mighty shout went up from the whole assembly that seemed to shake the marble walls of the throne room. Then the majestic head was lowered slightly, almost imperceptibly, but with wonderful grace and charm in acknowledgment of this tribute. Again the cheers rose louder than before and lasted several minutes, even the highest nobles of the kingdom waving their tufted kalpaks high in the air. The Queen’s head sank, her deadly pallor giving place to a faint flush. Her eyes opened wide with a flash of their old brilliancy, and a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. It was plain that the affection between Elizabeth and her Hungarian subjects had undergone no change. The speaker went on with his address, the flush slowly faded from her cheeks, and soon she sat beside the Emperor, a Mater Dolorosa once more. It was her last visit to Hungary and her last appearance on the throne. Chapter XX Death of the Empress