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So great were his anxiety and distress, that he half rose in his bed.

They would not meet his glance, but Rosenberg in a low voice replied:

"The archduchess is very sick. The labor was long and painful."

"Ah, she is dead!" exclaimed Joseph, "she is dead, is she not?"

Neither of his weeping friends spoke a word, but the emperor comprehended their silence.

Falling back upon his pillow, he raised his wasted arms to heaven.

--"O God, Thy will be done! but my sufferings are beyond expression!

I thought that I had outlived sorrow: but the stroke which has come to imbitter my last moments exceeds all that I have endured throughout a life of uncheckered misery!" [Footnote: The emperor's own words.]

For a long time he lay cold and rigid. Then raising himself upon his arm, he signed to Rosenberg to approach. His eyes beamed as of erst, and his whole demeanor was that of a sovereign who had learned, above all things, to control himself.

"She must be buried with all the tenderness and honor of which she was deserving," said he. "Rosenberg, will you attend to this for me? Let her body be exposed in the court-chapel to-morrow. After that, lay her to rest in the imperial vaults, and let the chapel be in readiness to receive my own remains." [Footnote: Joseph's own words.--See Hubner, ii., p. 491.]

This was the last command given by the emperor. From that hour he was nothing more than a poor, dying mortal, whose last thoughts are devoted to his Maker. He sent for his confessor, and asked him to read something appropriate and consolatory. With folded hands, his large violet eyes reverently raised to heaven, he listened to the holy scriptural words.

Suddenly his countenance brightened, and his lips moved.

"Now here remain faith, hope, and love," read the priest.

The emperor repeated the three last words, "faith--hope" and when he pronounced the word "love," his face was illumined with a joy which had its source far, far away from earth!

Then all was silent. The prayer was over, and the dying emperor lay motionless, with his hands folded upon his breast.

Presently his feeble voice was heard in prayer. "Father, Thou knowest my heart--Thou art my witness, that I meant--to do--well Thy will be done!"

[Footnote: Ramshorn, p. 410]

Then all was still. Weeping around the bed stood Lacy, Rosenberg, and the Archduke Francis. The emperor looked at them with staring eyes, but he recognized them no longer. Those beautiful eves were dimmed forever!

Suddenly the silence was broken by a long, long sigh.

It was the death-sigh of JOSEPH THE SECOND!

Joseph died on the 20th of February, 1790. But his spirit outlived him and survives to the present day. His subjects, who had so misjudged him, deplored his loss, and felt how dear he had been to them. Now that he was dead--now that they had broken his heart, they grieved and wept for him. Poets sang his praises in eulogies, and wrote epitaphs laudatory of him who may be considered the great martyr of political and social enlightenment

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