duchess herself was summoned to the hall and informed
of the proposal which had been made, and of the approval which her mother
and her brother had announced; while, to incline her also to regard it
with equal favor, the embassador presented her with a letter from her
intended husband, and with his miniature, which she at once hung round her
neck. After which, the whole party adjourned to the private theatre of the
palace to witness the performance of a French play, "The Confident Mother"
of Marivaux, the title of which, so emblematic of the feelings of Maria
Teresa, may probably have procured it the honor of selection.

The next day the young princess executed a formal renunciation of all
right of succession to any part of her mother's dominions which might at
any time devolve on her; though the number of her brothers and elder
sisters rendered any such occurrence in the highest degree improbable, and
though one conspicuous precedent in the history of both countries had,
within the memory of persons still living, proved the worthlessness of
such renunciations.[1] A few days were then devoted to appropriate
festivities. That which is most especially mentioned by the chroniclers of
the court being, in accordance with the prevailing taste of the time, a
grand masked ball,[2] for which a saloon four hundred feet long had been
expressly constructed. And on the 26th of April the young bride quit her
home, the mother from whom she had never been separated, and the friends
and playmates among whom her whole life had been hitherto passed, for a
country which was wholly strange to her, and in which she had not as yet a
single acquaintance. Her very husband, to whom she was to be confided, she
had never seen.

Though both mother and daughter felt the most entire confidence that the
new position, on which she was about to enter, would be full of nothing
but glory and happiness, it was inevitable that they should be, as they
were, deeply agitated at so complete a separation. And, if we may believe
the testimony of witnesses who were at Vienna at the time,[3] the grief of
the mother, who was never to see her child again, was shared not only by
the members of the imperial household, whom constant intercourse had
enabled to know and appreciate her amiable qualities, but by the
population of the capital and the surrounding districts, all of whom had
heard of her numerous acts of kindness and benevolence, which, young as
she was, many o