there around Anthony Wallner-Aichberger. They spoke but little, but
sat on the benches against the walls of the room, and stared into
their glasses, which Eliza, Wallner's eldest daughter, filled again
and again with beer. Even the young girl, who was usually so gay and
spirited, seemed to-day sad and dejected. Formerly her merry
laughter and clear, ringing voice were heard everywhere; to-day she
was moody and taciturn. Formerly her checks glowed like purple
roses, a charming arch expression played around her beautiful small
mouth, and the fire and spirit of youth beamed from her large black
eyes; to-day, only a faint crimson tinged Eliza's cheeks, her lips
were firmly compressed, and her eyes were dim and lustreless. From
time to time, while waiting on the guests, she cast an anxious,
searching glance through the windows over the market-place, and
seemed to listen to the hum of voices, which often became as
deafening as the wild roar of the storm, and shook the window-panes.

Anthony Wallner, her father, was likewise grave and anxious, and in
walking to the groups of guests seated on the benches here and
there, he glanced uneasily toward the windows.

"It may be that they will not come, after all, Tony, and that the
Viennese have fooled you," whispered old Thurnwalden from Meran to
him.

"I cannot comprehend it," sighed Anthony Wallner. "The insurrection
was to break out on the 9th of April, and the Austrian troops were
to cross the frontier on that day; and this was the reason why we
have hitherto resisted the conscription and refused to pay the new
taxes. But the 9th of April has come now, and we have received no
message from Hofer or the Austrians."