The Saxon army was encamped in and around Hietzing; King John inhabited the Stöckl, that small palace at the entrance of the park which Maria Theresa had built for her celebrated physician van Swieten; and the King of Hanover, who on his first arrival in Vienna had resided at the house of his ambassador, General von Knesebeck, had now retired to the Duke of Brunswick's villa at the farther end of the pretty village, from which it was separated by a long high wall, which concealed the wonderful art treasures and whimsical arrangements in the park and the interior of the house. The Saxon troops, the suites of the two princes, the equipages of the arch-dukes and of the Austrian aristocracy, who vied with each other in attentions to the kings who were now suffering from the effects of the Austrian policy, filled the streets of Hietzing in a varied and brilliant manner; the inhabitants of Vienna streamed out more numerously than ever, and if anyone had cause to be satisfied with the catastrophe of 1866 it was certainly the possessors of the "Neue Welt," and "Dommayer's Casino." One morning in that remarkable and eventful time, two persons met in the large central salon of the Brunswick villa. The walls of this apartment were hung with Chinese tapestry, the embroidered figures of the inhabitants of that great empire, with faces exactly resembling those painted on their china, looked down complacently from the walls, the whole of the furniture was of costly Chinese work, life-sized pagodas stood in the corners, Chinese mats of the finest rice-straw covered the floors; the large glass doors were open and let the mild air blow in from the well-kept park. All the curiosities in this salon, which gave it rather the appearance of a museum than of a dwelling-room, did not attract one look from the two men who paced up and down, with sad and mournful faces. One of these persons was Count Alfred Wedel, whom we met with before in Hanover during the catastrophe of the month of June. He wore his undress court uniform, a blue coat with a scarlet collar; beside him was a small and delicate-looking man of about thirty-six years of age, with thin fair hair and a long light moustache; his features expressed great energy, and quick lively intelligence. He wore the uniform of a captain of infantry in the Hanoverian army. "Yes, my dear Düring," said Count Wedel, in a melancholy voice, "all is over,--Hanover exists no more,--you are the last man who waved our banner; would to God," he added with a sigh, "that our generals had been as energetic as you were, it would have been better for us." "I cannot indeed understand," said Captain von Düring, "how everything happened; I have only been able to follow the campaign from vague reports; but I can comprehend neither the military nor the political operations!" "Who can understand them?" cried Count Wedel with bitterness, "least of all, I believe, those who conceived them."