Perhaps the Emperor Napoleon suffered some pangs of disappointment. “Austria was his last card,” says M. Rothan, who, from the French standpoint, has so keenly studied the period preceding the war of 1870. He wanted an offensive and defensive alliance, which Austria would not accord, Count von Beust fearing that so grave a fact would never escape the lynx-eyes of Bismarck, who, when it came to his knowledge, would not fail to provoke a war before either ally had fully, or even partially, completed his military preparations, then so much in arrear. Not only were they backward in 1867, but Austria, at all events, was still unprovided in 1870. The Archduke Albrecht, who visited Paris during the month of February of that year, impressed the fact on the Emperor Napoleon. “The story runs,” says M. Rothan, “that, after having quitted the study of his Majesty, the Archduke returned, and; through the half-opened door, exclaimed, ’sire, above all things do not forget, whatever may happen, that we shall not be in a fit state to fall into line before a year.’” Hence, it may well be that the Austrian Chancellor was even then determined, in case of a conflict, to shape his policy in accordance with the first victories; and that the meditations of the Emperor Napoleon, as he re-crossed the Rhine, were tinged with bitter reflections on his political isolation. A little later, when he knew that Bismarck had discovered the drift of the conversation at Salzburg, his anxieties must have become more poignant. That Chancellor, who had secured afresh the goodwill of Russia, and beheld with satisfaction the effect of the Imperial display on Germany, enlarged, in a circular despatch, on the proof thus once more afforded that German national feeling could not endure “the mere notion” of “foreign tutelage” where the interests of the Fatherland were concerned. Germany had a right to mould her own fortunes and frame her own constitution. So that, as Von Buest had foreseen, the dreaded Chancellor had promptly turned to account even the colloquies of Salzburg. “France, with one hand,” he said, “presents us with soothing notes, and with the other permits us to see the point of her sword.” There was no open quarrel between the two antagonists, but each suspected and closely watched the other. M. Rothan, himself a vigilant and zealous official, furnishes an amusing example. In November, 1866, he learned from “a Foreign minister accredited to a South German Court,” what was to him the appalling fact that the Imperial work of mediation at Nikolsburg had been counteracted, “even before it had been sanctioned by the Treaty of Prague.” He referred to the now famous military treaties. M. de X―, his informant, he says, obtained his knowledge of the secret by a sort of inquisitorial method, “a la façon d’un juge d’instruction,” that is, he affirmed the existence of the documents, and thus extorted confessions, express or implied.