It was the 13th of March, 1848, the day of the popular uprising in Vienna. The Plankenhorst parlours were even on that day filled with their usual frequenters; but instead of piano-playing and gossip, entertainment was furnished by the distant report of musketry and the hoarse cries of the mob. Every face was pale and anxious, and all present were eager to learn the latest news from any newcomer. At length, toward evening, the secretary of the police department entered. His mere outward appearance indicated but too well that things were going badly for the government. Instead of his official uniform, he wore a common workman's blouse, and his face was pale and careworn. As soon as he was recognised in his disguise, all pressed around him for the latest tidings. "Well, are you sweeping the streets?" asked the high official of the commissary department, in anxious haste. "There is no making head against the rascals," answered the secretary in a trembling voice. "I have just left the office and only escaped by means of this disguise. The mob has broken into the building, thrown down the statue of Justice, and wrecked the censor's office." "But, for heaven's sake, can't more soldiery be sent out against them?" "We have soldiers enough, but the emperor will not permit any more bloodshed. He is displeased that any lives at all should have been sacrificed." "But why ask his permission? He is too tender-hearted by far. Let the war department manage that." "Well, you go and tell them how to do it," returned the secretary petulantly. "What is to be done when the soldiers fire in such a way that a whole platoon volley fails to hit a single man? In St. Michael Square I saw with my own eyes the cannoneers stick their slow-matches into the mud, and heard them declare they wouldn't fire on the people." "Heavens! what will become of us?" "I came to give you warning. For my part, I believe the people have fixed upon certain houses as objects of their fury, and I would not pass the night in one of them for all the Rothschild millions." "Do you think my house is one of the number?" asked Baroness Plankenhorst. The only reply she got was a significant shrug of the shoulders. "And now I must hasten away," concluded the secretary. "I have to order post-horses and relays for the chancellor." "What! has it come to that already?" "So it seems." "And do you go with him?" "I shall take good care not to remain long behind. And you too, madam, I should advise at the earliest opportunity--" "I will consider the matter," returned Antoinette composedly, and she let him hurry away. * * * * *