for them. They seemed confused, the young girl blushing and
hiding her face in her hands, the young man rising to his feet,
saluting and bowing. More cheers and applause. He opened his
mouth as if wanting to speak. There was a sudden silence. He was
vainly struggling for expression, but then his face lit up as if by
inspiration. Standing erect, hand at his cap, in a pose of military
salute, he intoned the Austrian national hymn. In a second every
head in that throng was bared. All traffic suddenly stopped,
everybody, passengers as well as conductors of the cars, joining in
the anthem. The neighboring windows soon filled with people, and
soon it was a chorus of thousands of voices. The volume of tone
and the intensity of feeling seemed to raise the inspiring anthem to
the uttermost heights of sublime majesty. We were then on our way
to the station, and long afterwards we could hear the singing,
swelling like a human organ.

What impressed me particularly in Vienna was the strict order
everywhere. No mob disturbances of any kind, in spite of the
greatly increased liberty and relaxation of police regulations.
Nor was there any runaway chauvinism noticeable, aside from the
occasional singing of patriotic songs and demonstrations like the
one I just described. The keynote of popular feeling was quiet
dignity, joined to determination, with an undercurrent of solemn
gravity and responsibility.

I had stopped in Vienna only long enough to bid good-bye to my
father, and left for the headquarters of my regiment in Graz. I
reported there for duty and then went to join the Fourth Battalion,
which was stationed at Leoben, one hour away from Graz, my
orders being to take command of the first platoon in the sixteenth