"Yes, I knew," continued Thugut, sternly, "that men who have no
regard for the honor and dignity of their country--men who are
stupid enough to believe that it would be better to submit
voluntarily to the dominion of the French Republic, instead of
resisting the demands of the regicides manfully and unyieldingly--
that these men have hired you to open your big mouth, and howl about
things which you do not understand, and which do not concern you at
all."

At this moment, shrieks of terror and loud supplications, mingled
with violent and threatening voices, and words of military command
were heard outside.

The men turned anxiously around, and beheld with dismay that the
staircase, which only a few minutes ago was crowded with people, was
now entirely deserted.

Suddenly, however, two men appeared on the landing, who were little
calculated to allay the apprehensions of the rioters, for they wore
the uniform of that dreaded and inexorable police who, under
Thugut's administration, had inaugurated a perfect reign of terror
in Vienna.

The two officers approached the door of the anteroom, where they
were met by Germain, the footman, who conversed with them in a
whisper. Germain then hastened back to the door of the dining-room
and walked in, scarcely deigning to cast a contemptuous glance on
the dismayed rioters.