The regular ticking of the great old clock was heard, marking as calmly these saddest moments to the House of Hapsburg as it had proclaimed during its greatest splendour that all yielded to the inexorable scythe of Time. For Time goes on with equal pace during the flying moments of happiness and during the creeping hours of the blackest day, only in the rush of happiness his iron footstep is unheard, whilst in the sad stillness of misfortune "_memento mori_" sounds on every ear, and calls to each one of us from the bosom of the solemn vanished past. Thus was it here. The guardsman and the equerry had often performed their duty in this very room, with their hearts full of joyful thoughts of the world without; and all those hours had vanished from their recollection, or had melted together in a blurred picture; but these hours, these still, dark hours, with the slow stroke of the heavy pendulum marking their lingering seconds, were buried deep in their memory for ever. The Adjutant-General Count Crenneville entered. He was accompanied by the Hanoverian ambassador, General von Knesebeck, dressed in the full uniform of a Hanoverian general, and followed by the King of Hanover's equerry, Major von Kohlrausch, a simple soldier-like man, with a short black moustache and a bald head. General von Knesebeck, the tall, stately man who had moved with so firm and proud a step through Count Mensdorff's salons, now stooped in his walk. Sorrow and mourning lay on his grave regular features, and without speaking a word he saluted the equerry on duty. "Will you announce me, dear baron?" said Count Crenneville to Baron von Fejérváry. He entered the imperial apartment, and returning immediately, signified to the adjutant-general by a respectful movement that the emperor awaited him. Count Crenneville entered the cabinet of Francis Joseph. The emperor again wore a large grey military cloak. He sat bending over his writing-table; pens, papers, and letters lay untouched before him; there were no signs of the restless industry of a sovereign who never allowed an hour to pass idly. It was not grief which the excited, wearied countenance of the emperor wore, it was comfortless, dull despair. Crenneville looked sadly at his sovereign thus weighed down with sorrow, and said, with deep emotion,-- "I beg your imperial majesty not to yield to the sad impression of this disastrous news. We all--all Austria looks to her emperor. No misfortune is so great that a strong will and a resolute courage cannot amend it; and if your majesty despairs, what will the army--what will the people do?" The emperor slowly raised his wearied eyes and passed his hand over his brow as if to ease it of a load of thought.