Notwithstanding this disappointment, he called into requisition all his energies to meet the crisis.  The bridge was pushed forward to its completion.  The loitering German troops were hurried on to the rendezvous.  After a few days the Polish troops, by forced marches, arrived, and Sobieski found himself at the head of sixty thousand men, experienced soldiers, and well supplied with all the munitions of war.  On the 11th of September the inhabitants of the city were overjoyed, in descrying from the towers of the city, in the distance, the approaching banners of the Polish and German army.  Sobieski ascended an elevation, and long and carefully scrutinized the position of the besieging host.  He then calmly remarked,

“The grand vizier has selected a bad position.  I understand him.  He is ignorant of the arts of war, and yet thinks that he has military genius.  It will be so easy to conquer him, that we shall obtain no honor from the victory.”

Early the next morning, the 12th of September, the Polish and German troops rushed to the assault, with such amazing impetuosity, and guided by such military skill, that the Turks were swept before them as by a torrent.  The army of the grand vizier, seized by a panic, fled so precipitately, that they left baggage, tents, ammunition and provisions behind.  The garrison emerged from the city, and cooeperated with the victors, and booty of indescribable value fell into their hands.  As Sobieski took possession of the abandoned camp, stored with all the wealth and luxuries of the East, he wrote, in a tone of pleasantry to his wife,

“The grand vizier has left me his heir, and I inherit millions of ducats.  When I return home I shall not be met with the reproach of the Tartar wives, ’You are not a man, because you have come back without booty.’”

The inhabitants of Vienna flocked out from the city to greet the king as an angel deliverer sent from heaven.  The next morning the gates of the city were thrown open, the streets were garlanded with flowers, and the King of Poland had a triumphal reception in the streets of the metropolis.  The enthusiasm and gratitude of the people passed all ordinary bounds.  The bells rang their merriest peals; files of maidens lined his path, and acclamations, bursting from the heart, greeted him every step of his way.  They called him their father and deliverer.  They struggled to kiss his feet and even to touch his garments.  With difficulty he pressed through the grateful crowd to the cathedral, where he prostrated himself before the altar, and returned thanks to God for the signal victory.  As he returned, after a public dinner, to his camp, he said, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

Two days after this, Leopold returned, trembling and humiliated to his capital.  He was received in silence, and with undisguised contempt.  His mortification was intense, and he could not endure to hear the praises which were everywhere lavished upon Sobieski.  Jealousy rankled in his heart, and he vented his spite upon all around him.  It was necessary that he should have an interview with the heroic king who had so nobly come to his rescue.  But instead of meeting him with a warm and grateful heart, he began to study the punctilios of etiquette, that the dreaded interview might be rendered as cold and formal as possible.