"'Where are we going, Excellency?' the postillion asked, hat in hand."
"'The Vienna road,' the count replied, making himself as comfortable as he could in the corner of the carriage."
"The postillion cracked his whip, and they set off at full speed. The count had reflected, and the following was the result of his reflections:--only one person was powerful enough to render him thorough and prompt justice, that person was the Emperor. He must, consequently, apply to the Emperor, and that was the reason why he was going to Vienna. It is a long distance from Bruneck to Vienna; at that period, more especially when railways were only just beginning, and only existed in few places, journeys were long, fatiguing and expensive. This lasted twenty-seven days. The count's first business on arriving, was to enquire after his Imperial Majesty; the court was at Schönbrunn. Now Schönbrunn, the Saint Cloud of the Austrian Emperors, is only a league and a half from Vienna. Still, not to lose precious time in false steps, he must obtain an audience with the Emperor as speedily as possible. Count Oclau was of too great a family to be kept waiting long; two days after his arrival in Vienna an audience was granted him. The palace of Schönbrunn stands, as we said, about a league and a half from Vienna, beyond the suburb of Mariahilf and a little to the left. This imperial palace, commenced by Joseph I., and finished By María-Theresa, is a simple, elegant, and graceful building, though not without a certain majesty. It is composed of a large main building with two wings, with a double flight of steps leading to the first floor; low buildings running parallel to the main edifice, serve as offices and stables, and are attached to the end of the east of the wings, leaving merely an aperture of about thirty feet, on either side of which stands an obelisk, which thus completes the courtyard. A bridge thrown across the Vienne, a thin stream of water which falls into the Danube, gives access to the palace, behind which extends in an amphitheatrical form, an immense garden, surmounted by a belvedere, placed on the top of a large grass plot, which is flanked on the right and left by magnificent coppices full of shadow, freshness, and twittering birds. Schönbrunn, rendered celebrated by Napoleon I. residing there twice, and by the painful death of his son, bears a stamp of indescribable sadness and languor, everything is gloomy, dull, and desolate; the court with its formal etiquette and brilliant parades only imperfectly succeeds at lengthened intervals, in galvanizing this corpse. Schönbrunn, like the palace of Versailles, is only a body without a soul, and nothing could restore it to life."