important personage of them all, sat perfectly unconcerned, paying not
the slightest attention to the wise deductions of his colleagues. He
seemed much occupied in straightening loose papers, mending his pen, and
removing with his finger-tips the tiny, specks that flecked the lustre
of his velvet coat. Once, while Bartenstein was delivering his long
address, Kaunitz carried his indifference so far as to draw out his
repeater (on which was painted a portrait of La Pompadour, set in
diamonds) and strike the hour! The musical ring of the little bell
sounded a fairy accompaniment to the deep and earnest tones of
Bartenstein's voice; while Kaunitz, seeming to hear nothing else, held
the watch up to his ear and counted its strokes. [Footnote: Vide
Kormayr, "Austrian Plutarch," vol. xii., p.352.] The empress, who was
accustomed to visit the least manifestation of such inattention on the
part of her councillors with open censure--the empress, so observant of
form, and so exacting of its observance in others--seemed singularly
indulgent to-day; for while Kaunitz was listening to the music of his
watch, his imperial mistress looked on with half a smile. At last, when
the fifth orator had spoken, and it became the turn of Kaunitz to vote,
Maria Theresa turned her flashing eyes upon him with a glance of anxious
and appealing expectation.

As her look met his, how had all coldness and unconcern vanished from
his face! How glowed his eyes with the lustre of great and world-swaying
thoughts, as, rising from his chair, he returned the gaze of his
sovereign with one that seemed to crave forbearance!

But Kaunitz had almost preternatural control over his emotions, and he
recovered himself at once.

"I cannot vote for a renewal of our worn-out alliance with the maritime