This procession consisted of twelve wagons, apparently not destined
to receive living men, but the remains of the dead. The broad and
heavy wheels were not surmounted by ordinary carriage-boxes, but by
immense iron trunks, large enough to enclose a coffin or a corpse;
and these trunks were covered with heavy blankets, the four corners
of which contained the imperial crown of Austria in beautiful
embroidery. Every one of these strange wagons was drawn by six
horses, mounted by jockeys in the imperial livery, while the hussars
of the emperor's Hungarian bodyguard rode in serried ranks on both
sides.

The horses drew these mysterious wagons slowly and heavily through
the streets; the wheels rolled with a dull, thundering noise over
the uneven pavement; and this noise resounded in the ears and hearts
of the pale and terrified spectators like the premonitory signs of
some new thunderstorm.

What was concealed in these mysterious wagons? What was taken away
from Vienna in so careful a manner and guarded so closely? Everybody
was asking these questions, but only in the depth of his own heart,
for nobody dared to interrupt the painful and anxious silence by a
loud word or an inquisitive phrase. Every one seemed to be
fascinated by the forbidding glances of the hussars, and stunned by
the dull rumbling of the wheels.

But, when finally the last wagon had disappeared in the next street,
when the last horseman of the hussar escort had left the place, the
eyes of the anxious spectators turned once more toward the speakers
who had previously addressed them, and told them of the misfortunes
of Austria, and of the brilliant victories of the youthful French