His small, bent form, with its weak, shrivelled limbs, was not the
form of a hero; his pale, wan face, with the hollow cheeks; the dim
eyes deeply imbedded in their sockets, and the clouded brow, on
which thin tufts of hair hung down, was not the face of a bold
captain, confident of achieving brilliant triumphs by his heroic
deeds, and deserving of the name of the hope and consolation of
Austria. But the Austrians did call him by that name, and the glory
of his military achievements, which filled not only Austria but the
whole of Germany, caused them really to build their hopes on the
Archduke Charles, despite his very feeble health. The Emperor
Francis was aware of this; he knew that the Archdukes Charles and
John were by far more popular than he was; hence he was jealous of
and angry with them--nay, he almost hated them.

"You look very pale and sick to-day, my dear Archduke Charles," said
the emperor, after a pause, during which he had contemplated the
archduke with a searching expression.

"I am very feeble and unwell, your majesty," sighed Charles; "and
but for the special request of my brother, the Archduke John, I
should not have dared to come here this morning. However, I am
afraid that I can do but little to comply with his wishes, and that
my brother John will soon think it would have been better for him
not to ask me to accompany him to your majesty."

"Ah, then, you are after all not so harmonious as I thought when I
saw you entering here together!" exclaimed the emperor, laughing.
"There are still differences of opinion, then, between the two
pillars of my throne, and were I to lean on one, the other would
totter and give way. Well, what do you want? What brought you here?"