Franz II immediately frowned and looked out the window.
Count Kobzl, Austria's Minister of the Interior, hurried to the conference room door, his face dark as he sternly demanded of his assistant Fiodot, "What's going on outside? Where are the Police?"
Vienna's political climate was nothing like Paris's relaxed atmosphere. Usually, protest marches would be dispersed by the Police before they had even made it two streets. As for coming near the royal palace to "make trouble," that was even less conceivable.
Fiodot lowered his head. "There were two larger protests today, one on Silversmith Street and another near St. Stephen's Cathedral. The Police were all transferred there.
"These people outside probably gathered near Graben Street. I've already sent someone to deal with them..."
Austria's Police were still under the Minister of the Interior's command. With something like this happening, Count Kobzl could hardly escape blame.
Gritting his teeth, he told his assistant, "I'm giving you twenty minutes to disperse those idiots outside! If there aren't enough Police, have the Court Guard assist."
"Yes, Count." Fiodot bowed and withdrew.
Before long, sixty or seventy Police officers, wielding short batons, charged into the protesters in formation, immediately stirring up cries of pain and curses.
More than a hundred paces away, a company of Court Guard soldiers held Flintlock Guns at the ready, coldly watching the Police at work.
As the first several dozen protesters were beaten bloody and sent sprawling to the ground, the crowd gradually began to retreat, and the cries of slogans weakened with them...
Inside a Cafe on the east side of Graben Street, one street away from Schönbrunn Palace.
Baron Scheller, his hair somewhat disheveled, clasped his hands together and looked pitifully at the plump, fair-skinned middle-aged man across from him. Lowering his voice, he said:
"Count