We cannot afford to linger in Vienna, nor speak of the week--the most
brilliant of all her life--Kate passed there. It was the first burst
of that ambition which had so long taken possession of her, and she saw
herself, at length, in all the pride of her station, and her beauty the
object of a hundred flatteries.
Fêted at the Court, distinguished by the special attentions of the
Princes, most courteously received in all the society of the most
exclusive capital of Europe, the whirl of pleasure and excitement as
effectually precluded thought as it defied reflection. Hitherto she
had seen the world only as a dependant, or at least as something
appertaining to Lady Hester, in whose caprices she was bound to share,
making partnery, as it were, in all her likings and dislikings; but now
she was become the centre around which all these attentions revolved,
and her own will was the directing impulse of every action.
Of all the cities of the Continent, Vienna was most remarkable for
almost instinctively adopting the tone of its Court in respect to a
distinguished visitor. There was something like intuition in the way in
which they guessed the feeling of royalty, and as quickly made it their
own.
The restricted limits of the first society, of course, made this
practicable, as well as the fact that all belonging to it were more or
less engaged in the service of the Emperor. Kate Dalton was now to enjoy
this flattery, and find herself, wherever she went, the special object
of attention.
At the Hof Theatre, where they played her favorite operas; at the great
reviews in the Prater, at the balls of the palace, or the _déjeûners_ of
Schonbrunn, she seemed the occasion of the fête, and to do _her_ honor
all appeared assembled. Carried away by the triumphant delight of
pleasure so associated with power, she either forgot at times the price
at which her greatness had been purchased, or was disposed to still the
beatings of her heart by the thought, “My destiny is chosen; it is too
late to look back.” To have grieved over her lot, besides, would have
seemed an utter selfishness, seeing that she was the means of dispensing
such happiness to all her family. Her poor father placed once more
in comfort; Nelly free to follow the dictates of her charming fancy,
without the alloying sense of toil; and dear Frank, in all the
exuberant joy of his promotion, eternally reminding her that she was his
patroness. The quick clatter of his charger's hoofs in the courtyard,
the clank of his sabre as he ran up the stairs, were but the glad
prelude to his daily outpouring of gratitude. Ay, “to be sorry now,
would be but selfish.”
Such was the philosophy in which she wrapped herself; and day after day
the feeling gained strength within her. It was true there were moments
when all the sophistry gave way, and her affections flowed full and
strong in the deep channels of her heart. Then, indeed, she saw the
emptiness of all this gorgeous parade,--how little it gave of real
happiness,--how seldom it ever called forth one generous feeling, or one
high desire, and she wished the fates had dealt otherwise with her. At
times she almost longed for the humble home, in all its poverty, with
nothing but Nelly's bright smile and gentle voice to cheer its solitude!
It may have been this conflict----for conflict it was--that gave to her
demeanor a certain calm dignity, which, in the critical estimation
of society, elevated her high above any charge of frivolity or
capriciousness. She was a thought graver, perhaps, than her years; but
the feeling imparted an indescribable grace to one whose beauty was the
very type of brilliancy. After all, these were but passing clouds; nor
did she ever suffer herself to recur to the past, save when wayward
memories would obtrude uncalled for.
At last a letter came from Lady Hester; and although not a long one,
it called up thoughts that all her endeavors could not efface from
recollection. There were, once again, all the old familiar names with
which she used to be so conversant.
Lady Hester, however, was much changed: all the capricious irritability
of the fine lady had given place to a kind of importunate piety. She had
grown “devote,” and her life a string of religious observances. After
dwelling complacently on the self-imposed round of her mortifications
and penances, she went on:----
“D'Esmonde has just returned, and delights me by saying that
you are quite free from any contagion as to the errors of
the Greek Church. Of course, outwardly, you must conform;
even if Midchekoff did not insist, his countrymen would; but
he says that St. Ursula is the sure resource in such cases,
and mentions the instance of a nun who took lessons in
Spanish from the Devil, and, by the aid of the blessed
Ursula, was nothing the worse.
“I told Jekyl, who left this on Friday, to send me an image
of St. Ursula, that I might forward it to you; but the
careless wretch has sent me a statuette of Fanny Elssler by
mistake. He discovered his error, however, and has written
me a most humble letter, mentioning, by the way, that he was
doing a 'Novena' for penance, and danced the polka all the
preceding night with a sharp peg in the sole of his foot.
With all his oddity, there is a great deal to like in him.
“I have only once heard from the Onslows; their conduct has
been too shocking; they are not ruined at all, but got up
the story, I verily believe, just to destroy my nerves. Sir
S. is living in Ireland, at that place with the horrid name
your father used to talk of, with Sydney; and George has
gone to India, a major, I think, in some cavalry regiment.
At Grounsell's kind suggestion, I have been cut off with a
miserable allowance of fifteen hundred a year; but even with
this I am content. St. Brigitta, of Cleves, lived on hard
peas, and never wore anything but an old sack for the last
seventeen years of her life; and Célestine has got a
charming pattern of a capote, _à la_ Cistercine, which, when
made of white cashmere, will be perfectly simple and very
becoming. I wear my hair now always in bands, and very low
on the face. D'Esmonde says I 'm the image of the Madonna of
Domenichino, which you may remember, I always preferred to
Raphael's.
“Cardinal Bruschetti has been spending a few days here, and
I cannot tell you the charm I have felt in his society,
contrasted with the frivolous dissipation I have been used
to. He is so suave, and so gentle, so persuasive, without
importunity, and so conciliating withal. Not the least
austerity about him; but at times actually gay! He quite
approves of my having kept Fripponi as my cook. 'A change of
cuisine,' said he, 'involves a change of digestion, a change
of temperament, and a moral change;' alterations far too
important to be incurred at once. This is so far pleasant as
certainly the man is an admirable artist. His Eminence said
yesterday that the salmi of ortolans was a dish fit for the
Pope. We drive out, or row, every day, on the lake, and I
shall be quite lonely when he leaves this. I am curious to
know if you remember a bust of him in the Vatican. He was,
and indeed is, a remarkably handsome man; and his leg has
been modelled I can't say how often. He asks me to whom I am
writing, and begs you will remember him in your prayers, how
touchingly simple, is it not?
“I ventured last night on a bit of importunity, and asked
his Eminence a favor. That poor dear Jekyl, you know, is
miserably off. His family, all so wealthy, he says, only
allow him a few hundreds a year; and with his generous
habits and wastefulness this must be actual want. Well, I
asked the Cardinal if there might not be some way of sending
him out as a missionary--like St. Vincent de Paul. I 'm
certain he 'd not like the dress nor the bare feet, but he
'd be so happy with those charming Tonga islanders, who,
such is their zeal, that they actually give four and five
scalps for a wax image of the Virgin. His Eminence hinted
that there might be difficulties, and he'd think of it I
“Your Prince passed through here on Tuesday, on his way to
Naples; he wants to see 'La Giovina' dance in that new
ballet of 'Paradiso.' They say she is perfectly lovely. The
Prince asked after you, and said something about its not
being etiquette for him to write to you, or that you should
write first, or, I really forget what; you know the slurring
way he has of talking, and how he walks away before he has
finished. He's worse than ever, I think, or probably it is
_I_ that have less patience with him now since you are gone!
“Jekyl told me--in strict confidence, remember--that M. did
not stand well with his Court, and that there would be
nothing wonderful in the Czar's refusing his leave for the
marriage. What you ought to do in that case I cannot
conceive; a convent, I suppose, would be the only thing.
After all, it might probably have been as well if you had
taken poor George. The estate is still a good one, and he
has some amiable points in his character, and he certainly
loved you. I never told you the thousand confessions he made
me, nor his entreaties for my intercession, but there is no
harm now in letting you hear them. It is, however,
impossible to say with whom one could live happily!
George begged of me to send him every letter you wrote to
me, and of course you can use the knowledge of the fact at
your discretion.
“Now, for two little commissions, my dear Kate, and I have
done. I want you to get me a case of Tokay from the Teleki
estate--mind, not Pain's, which, his Eminence says, wants
the oily flavor. Some of the archdukes will manage this for
you. I 'm certain your long eyelashes have got further than
this already. The second is to send me a haunch of Bohemian
venison,--Schwartenschild's, if possible. The Cardinal says
that fat is become as scarce as true piety, and that a well-
fed buck is as rare as a good Christian!
“Are they wearing their corsages pointed at the back?----not
that I care, dearest, for I am above such vanities, but
Célestine wishes to know. When you receive the St. Ursula,
keep her in your own room, and with her face to the west;
and so good-by, and, with many prayers, believe me,
“Affectionately yours,
“THEODOSIA,
“Late Hester Onslow.
“Could you, by any chance, send me a good miniature of
yourself?----perhaps you guess for what purpose.
Haselquist's oil picture is too large for what I want; and,
besides, is really not like you. Even with all its
imperfections his Eminence sits looking at it for hours of
an evening, and says he can scarcely fancy anything
lovelier. I do not ask after Madame de H., for I hate the
woman. His Eminence has told me such things of her! But of
course you can only make the best of it for the present, and
get on as well as you can.
“D'Esmonde tells me that Frank is a fine boy, and very good-
looking, but fearfully dissipated, but I suppose the service
is like the Life Guards with us--and what can one expect? _À
propos_ to this, Norwood has written to me twice some
inexplicable nonsense about you, which I have not replied
to. What does he mean by 'treating a flirt like a flounce'
Jekyl says that the police have stopped his passport, or he
should have been after you to Vienna. This is quite
unintelligible to me, and I don't know why I repeat it.”
Never did a frivolous letter give more serious thought, nor bring
gloomier reflections, than did this epistle to Kate Dalton. Her mind
dwelt far less on the paragraph which concerned her own future than
on that which spoke of George,--his devoted affection and his enduring
sorrow! And so it was true that he loved her! He had even confided
the avowal to another, and asked for aid and counsel. Why had he then
concealed it from herself? Was the fault hers? Had her own conduct been
the reason? Had her encouragement of any other estranged him, or was the
teaching of the society in which she moved the reason? Poor fellow! how
unfairly had she treated him,----even to that very last incident of
their last meeting!--and now they were to meet no more! No, death itself
could not more effectually separate them than did space and destiny.
Even this she felt to be better, far better, than the chances of renewed
intimacy in the world. Lady Hester had not told her why she had never
divulged her secret; still less to what end she revealed it now, when
the knowledge must be only misery. The mention of Norwood, and the vague
half-threat connected with his name, gave her but little uneasiness,
since her mind had but space for one absorbing thought,--George loved
her! There was the sum of every reflection; and all the world around
her, in its splendor or its brilliancy, the tortuous paths of political
intrigue, the quiet byways of home-affection, the present and the
future, were all as nothing when weighed against this one thought.
If her first impression had been to blame Lady Hester for revealing the
secret, her second was to thank her with her whole heart. She remembered
D'Esmonde, too, and the reasonings by which he accompanied the delivery
of the letter; and she felt that this consciousness was a blessing
of which no vicissitude could rob her,--that come what might of
disappointment or sorrow in life, here, at least, in her heart of
hearts, was one hoarded treasure to compensate for all. If there were
but one to whom she could confide her secret, with whom she could talk
over her sorrow, she thought that she would be contented. To Nelly she
dared not; to Frank she could not speak of it; what, then, of Nina?
Alas! it was no longer a secret to _her!_ Nina had seen the picture,
and although nothing in her manner betrayed the slightest consciousness,
Kate knew her too well not to feel herself in her power.
Nina's demeanor, however, exhibited nothing of insolent triumph; on the
contrary, her manner was gentle, even to submissiveness, and something
almost affectionate seemed to mingle with the feeling in which she
fulfilled her duties. Kate remarked this, and only needed the courage to
take advantage of it At first the very idea of Nina's consciousness
was torture; but day by day this terror grew weaker, till at last she
actually wished that the moment of explanation was over, and that she
could pour out all her griefs before her. “She may have loved unhappily,
herself; and if so, will pity me. In any case, a frank avowal on my part
will show that I knew nothing of his heart, and but little of my own,
till 'too late.' We are never to meet again,” and so-and-so; in fact,
with many a casuistry, she satisfied herself that mere memory could
never be a sin,--that there could be nothing very wrong in looking back
as often as the future seemed lowering and gloomy. It is hard to say if
there might not have been some leaven of “pique” in these reasonings.
The Prince, according to Lady Hester, if he had not entirely forgotten,
was already indifferent about her. Some uncertainty of ceremonial
prevented his writing or hearing from her; and at this very moment he
was following out the ordinary life of dissipation which he led before.
Why care for him,----why even endeavor to nourish an affection that
must be blighted in the end? Besides, her marriage was never one of
inclination; Lady Hester had been most frank in explaining the Prince's
appreciation of it As to her own reasons for the step, she knew them too
well.
All that Kate had seen of life in her Florence experiences told her
that such cases were the ordinary events of the world. Few were happily
married,--disparity of age, inequality of condition, incompatible
tempers, and a hundred other causes were ever at work. Lady Hester used
to tell her that nobody was ever satisfied with their “married lot:
the good and right-minded only pined under it; the less scrupulous
proclaimed their dissatisfaction to the world, and asked for sympathy.”
These were the two categories that comprehended all her theory. Now Kate
was quite resolved to be one of the former class; but she saw no reason
why she ought not to have one “confidante” of her cares.
With all the force of these persuasions she could not get over the
awkwardness of the confession, and would have given worlds that Nina
herself would take the first step. That simple-minded creature, however,
appeared dead to every hint or suggestion,--she could never see the
drift of any remark, save in its most obvious sense, and actually pushed
Kate's temper to the last entrenchment of patience by pure stupidity.
“Is it possible--can it be that I am deceived--that she has not
recognized the miniature?” thought Kate. “Is my secret still in my own
keeping?”
As this thought struck her, everything appeared to confirm it,--the
girl's manner, devoid of every trait of imperiousness, and actually
humble to servility. “Oh, if I could but be sure of this,--if I could
know that I could bury both my shame and my sorrow together!” In this
vacillating state of suspense--one day all hope and confidence, the
next, terror and dread--she lived on, till the period drew nigh for
their departure from Vienna.
Madame de Heidendorf had delayed beyond her intention, in the hope of
receiving some French news; and Kate eagerly watched the post for some
tidings from home,--for home it still was, in every feeling of her heart
“No letters again, Nina?” said she, despondingly, as the maid entered
the room.
“None, Madame.”
“Have your friends forgotten you, Nina, as well as mine appear to have
done?”
“Nina has but few friends, Madame; and still fewer would think of
writing to her!”
“Poor Nina!” said Kate, affectionately; and the blood rushed to the
girl's face at the words, and her eyes flashed with an expression of
sudden passion.
“No pity, Madame,----no pity!” cried she, with a voice full of emotion,
“or I may forget myself,--forget myself and you also!” And with these
words she hurried from the room, without waiting for more. Kate sat
shocked and abashed by the girl's violence, and yet neither daring to
reprove her nor even remonstrate with her. What abject slavery was this
to feel! How mean did she seem to her own heart! What rottenness was
within that gilded splendor by which she was surrounded! Where was the
ambitious envy with which she once looked up to the rich and powerful
now? Where that intense desire to be among the great and the titled? and
with whom would she not have changed conditions, even to Nina herself?
It is not weak of heart and low of courage that one should face
the great journey of life. Its trials and crosses, even to the most
fortunate, demand all that we can summon of hope and of energy. And
yet so was it that she was about to begin the road--the long and dreary
road--before her! As she sat thus musing, a great noise was heard from
the street without. She arose and opened the window. The whole Platz
was crammed with people, eagerly talking and gesticulating. A surging,
waving motion, too, seemed to sway them, and at length she could detect
that they were slowly proceeding onward towards the gate of the city.
The deep roll of a drum then turned her attention, and, in the far
distance, she saw the glancing bayonets of an infantry column as they
advanced.
Military spectacles are of too frequent recurrence in Vienna to create
much surprise or excitement; and yet, evidently, from the looks and
gestures of the people, they were both present here. The band of a
regiment struck up the national hymn of Austria; and as the proud notes
swelled into the air, a dark body of Tyrolese Jâgers poured into the
Platz. Still there was no enthusiasm of the people. They listened to
the loyal sounds in cold apathy. To the Tyrolese succeeded a Grenadier
battalion, after which came a long dense column of infantry of the line,
their knapsacks on their backs, and their bread rations strapped above
them. Behind these was the artillery, the long-tailed black horses
giving a solemn look to the procession, as its clanking sounds fell
mournfully on the ear. From the wide Platz they now moved on, and
passing out of the Körtner gate, defiled into the “Glacis.” But a moment
before and that immense space was empty; and now, from every avenue
of the city, troops came pouring in like rivers to the sea. The
black-plumed hunters from Tyrol, the gigantic Croat Grenadiers,
the swarthy Bohemian Cuirassiers, and the white-cloaked dragoons of
Austria,--all were seen advancing and forming as if in battle array.
While Kate's eye ranged eagerly over the field in search of the blue
uniform of the Hungarians, Madame de Heidendorf entered the room with an
open letter in her hand.
“What can this mean?” asked Kate, anxiously. “It is surely not a mere
review?”
“Far from it, Madame,” said the Countess, imposingly. “The great drama
is about to begin. News has come that Italy is in open revolt, and fresh
troops are to be despatched thither with all speed. Twelve thousand are
to march today, eight more to-morrow.”
“And Frank--”
She stopped, abashed by the disdainful expression of Madame de
Heidendorf s face.
“Your brother's regiment, Madame, will form part of the force, and he
will, of course, contribute the importance of his presence. How happily
constituted must be the mind that can turn from the grand theme of
a whole nation's destiny to the petty fortunes of a corporal or a
sous-lieutenant!”
“And yet so it is,” replied Kate, boldly; “dear Frank is nearer to my
heart than all that I see yonder. Oh, yes, Madame,” cried she, replying
to the glance of scorn the Countess bestowed, “it is quite true. Mine
is an ignoble spirit. My affections are linked with lowly objects; would
that my ambitions had never risen above them!”
What reply Madame de Heidendorf might have given to this speech, so much
more daring than she had uttered before, there is no knowing, when Frank
burst into the room, and clasped his sister in his arms.
“I have but a moment, Kate, and we are off--off to Italy;” and then,
seeing the Countess, the boy bowed courteously, and apologized for his
abrupt entrance. “Count Stephen has got the command, and placed me on
his staff.”
“I hope you may merit this proof of his confidence, sir,” said Madame de
Heidendorf, haughtily.
“Frank will be a brave soldier, Madame,” broke in Kate. “He is a
Dalton.”
“He must be true as well as brave. Fidelity is needed now as much as
valor.”
“And who will dare to question mine?” cried Frank; and then, as if
impatient that he should have been led away from a dearer theme, he
placed his arm within Kate's, and drew her towards the window. “I had so
much to say to you, my dearest sister. I have been thinking of nothing
but you--and--and--what you told me. I would break off this match----it
is not too late--you are only betrothed.”
“Oh, no, no, Frank; do not give me such counsels. I am pledged in word
and bound in honor. I have taken a solemn vow.”
“But you have been deceived,--I know you have; enough that I see such a
woman as that your companion. I tell you again, you must break it off.”
“I cannot,--I cannot!”
“Then, by Heaven! I will do it myself. It surely is not for all the
glitter of this state and pomp that you would sell your affections?
These gauds have not corrupted you already? No, no, I read you better
than that Listen to my plan, then,--do not leave this till you hear from
me. If this lady--I do not know her name--insists on your departure, be
as peremptory, and say that you wish to see your family first. You are
not a slave, and cannot be coerced.”
“I will hear no more of this, Frank; the very thought is maddening. No,
no, Frank; if you would be my friend, teach me how to fulfil my duty,
my sworn, pledged allegiance; do not seek to shake my faith, nor make me
less resolute in honor.”
“It is, then, as I feared,” cried he, passionately; “these cursed bribes
_have_ bought you. Oh, it is not thus Nelly would have been won!”
“I know it,--I know it well!” cried she, bursting into tears; “but I
never was like _her_.”
“But you were, and you are, dearest,” said he, kissing her forehead,
“our own sweet Kate, that we were all so proud of. Oh, forgive me if I
said what could hurt you, for I would pour out my heart's blood to serve
or to save you.”
There was a mournful emphasis on the last two words, which bespoke their
deep meaning; and now, locked in each other's arms, they wept bitterly.
“As the Field-Marshal von Auersberg has just ridden into the palace,
his aide-de-camp ought probably to dry his tears and receive him,” said
Madame de Heidendorf, as she sailed proudly out of the room.
“You heard that, Kate?----you heard what she said _to me?_ Think, then,
what kindness and sympathy she will feel for _you!_” said the boy, as he
dashed his hand indignantly against his forehead. “Was I not right about
these Russians?”
“Come, Frank, let us go to Uncle Stephen,” said Kate, trying to smile
and seem at ease; and hand-in-hand they descended the stairs together.
The drawing-room into which they now entered was filled with officers
of different arms of the service, among whom Count Dalton stood
conspicuous, both from his size and the soldierlike character of a
figure that not even old age seemed able to impair.
“How provoking, my sweet niece,” said he, taking Kate's hand between
both his, “now to part, just as I was learning the happiness of knowing
you. Here are all these gentlemen grumbling and complaining about
leaving their homes and families, and yet I 'll wager there is not one
amongst them carries away a heavier heart than I do. Come into this
room, my dear; let us have five minutes together.” And Kate took his
arm, while he led her forward. Madame de Heidendorf, meanwhile, seated
herself on a sofa, and summoned the most distinguished officers of the
party to inform her as to all that was going forward.
It was one of her favorite affectations to be deeply versed in military
tactics; not that she acknowledged herself deficient in any art or
science, but soldiering was her strong point. She therefore questioned
and cross-questioned these unhappy gentlemen at great length.
“You have no mortars? Do I hear you aright. Colonel Rabowsky? No
mortars?”
“None, Madame.”
“And how, may I ask, do you mean to reduce Milan to ashes?”
This was a very puzzling question; and she repeated it in a still more
commanding tone.
“Perhaps that may not be deemed desirable, Madame,” modestly insinuated
another officer.
“Not desirable, sir? you said not desirable. Why, really I shall begin
to fancy I ought to go to school again in military matters. Are you
aware, sir, it's the very centre of these wretches; that it is fed
from Switzerland and Piedmont with all that is infamous in political
doctrine? Milan must be bombarded, sir!”
[Illustration: 166]
The Colonel bowed courteously to an opinion expressed with so much
authority.
“You 'll find, at least, that the Field-Marshal will be of my opinion,”
continued she. “As a military position, it is worth nothing.”
“But as a capital city, Madame?” mildly interposed the Colonel.
“The old story,” said she, contemptuously. “Women and children!”
“Most legitimate objects of protection, I trust, Madame.”
But she turned contemptuously away, as if controversy with such an
adversary was beneath her.
“We have three rocket-batteries, Madame,” interposed a staff officer,
desirous of offering himself to her notice.
“I hope you will use them with effect, sir. I envy you the pleasure of
seeing them plunging amidst that vile mob it is the fashion to call the
people nowadays.”
“I hope we shall do our duty, Madame,” said an old, stern-looking major,
who felt little flattered at this interference.
“I should like to see more chivalry,----more ardent devotion in the
defenders of a monarchy,” said the Countess. “I can understand coldness
in the lower classes, but that the well-born and the noble should be
apathetic and slow to move is beyond my comprehension.”
“Bey'm Blitzen,” retorted the Major, “that is not bad I Here we are
going to shed our blood for the Kaiser, and we are told that it is not
enough, without we are born counts and barons.”
“What is it, Heckenstein?” said Count Dalton, as he entered the room and
laid his hand familiarly on the other's shoulder. “I have seldom seen
you look so angry.”
But the old soldier turned away without a reply.
“Madame de Heidendorf,” said the old General, “I know not what you have
said to offend an old and tried servant of the Emperor,--a soldier of
Wagram and Auster-litz,--a faithful follower, when the fortunes of this
great Empire were at the lowest But, believe me, these are not times to
flout loyalty and despise fidelity.”
“The times are worse than I thought them,” said the Countess, “when
these principles have infected such men as Count Dalton. I had certainly
hoped that his young relative would have received a very different
lesson at his outset in life, nor can I wonder if such teachings end in
evil. Here is the Archduke. How I wish his Highness had come a little
earlier!”
As she spoke, the Prince entered, with all the careless ease of his
ordinary manner. It was impossible to detect from his countenance
whether he regarded the event as a serious one, or simply one of those
popular commotions which are ever occurring in a large empire.
“I know you are discussing politics, or something akin to them,” said
he, laughingly. “Madame de Heidendorf has her 'cabinet countenance' on,
and Auersberg is looking as fierce as a field-marshal ought to do when
contradicted. Come, General, present me to the Princess. It is an honor
I have been long desiring. How tired you must be of all this, Madame!”
said he to Kate. “Such wise people as will not talk gossip,--such
high-minded souls as never will condescend to say a good thing, or hear
one, are insupportable.” And, seating himself beside her, he rattled
on about Vienna, its society, and its pleasures, with all the ease and
flippancy of a young fashionable of the day, while, in an attitude of
deep respect, not unmixed with a dash of impatience, stood the old Count
before him.
“What does Auersberg want to tell us?” said the Prince, at last, looking
up at the old General's face.
“To say adieu, your Royal Highness.”
“You don't go with the troops, surely?” said the Duke, laughing.
“At the head of my own regiment, your Royal Highness.”
“Ah, by the bye, the Auersbergs are in your brigade. Very proper that.
And is this my _protégé?_” said he, taking Frank's arm, and drawing him
forward. “There's your best example, sir. Be only as good a soldier,
and the name of Dalton will be a title of nobility amongst us. Good-bye,
Lieutenant General, farewell. Give that _canaille_ a lesson quickly, and
come back to us as soon as you can.”
Kate rose and followed Frank out of the room. For a few seconds they
were closely locked in each other's arms, without speaking. “Oh, Frank
dearest! when are we to meet again,--and how?” cried she, passionately.
“In pride and happiness, too, Kate,” said the boy, joyfully. “I have no
fears for the future. But what is this, sister dearest,--gold?”
“Do not refuse me, Frank. It is the only happiness left me.”
“But this is the Russian's, Kate.”
“No, believe me, it is not Count Stephen has made me his heir; he has
given me all his fortune. Even good luck can come too late!” said she,
with a sigh.
“Do not leave this till I write to you, Kate. I will do so very
soon,--that is, if I can; but these are anxious times. You know,
Kate,”--here the boy whispered, in a voice low and tremulous from
agitation,--“You know, Kate, that I only left the ranks a couple of days
ago. I can tell then, better than all these great folk, what soldiers
think and say; they are not as they used to be. Lead them against the
Frenchman, and they will fight as they have ever fought; but if it be
to fire on their own townsfolk,--to charge through streets where they
lounged along, hand-in-hand with the people, like brothers,--they will
not do it.”
“This is very alarming, Frank. Have you told the Count?”
“No; nor would I for worlds. What! betray my comrades, and be called
on before a court-martial to say who said this, and what man said t'
other?”
“But could you not, at least, give him some warning?”
“And be ordered from his presence for the presumption, or told that I
was a rebel at heart, or such tidings had never been uttered by me. The
old Feld would as soon believe that this earth was cut adrift to wander
at hazard through all space, as that treason should lurk behind an
Austrian uniform. It would be an evil hour for him who should dare to
tell him so.”
“Oh, Frank, how terrible is all this!”
“And yet do I not despair; nay, Kate, but I am even more hopeful for
it; and, as Walstein says, if the Empire halt so long behind the rest of
Europe, she must one day or other take a race to come up with it.”
“And is Walstein a----a----” She stopped.
“No; he's very far from a Democrat or a Republican. He 's too well born
and too rich and too good-looking to be anything but a Monarchist. Oh,
if you but saw him! But, hark! there are the trumpets! Here come the
'Wurtem-burgs;' and there's my charger, Kate. Is he not splendid? A
Banat horse, all bone and sinew.”
“How I should like to have been a man and a soldier!” said she, blushing
deeply.
“There, that's Walstein,----that's he with the scarlet dolman!” cried
Frank. “But he 's coming over,----he sees us. No, he's passing on. Did
you see him, Kate?--did you remark him?”
“No, Frank dearest; I see nothing but you, my own fond brother.” And she
fell upon his neck, weeping.
“Herr Lieutenant!” said a hussar, with his hand to his cap.
“Yes, I 'm ready,--I 'm coming,” cried Frank. And with one long, last
embrace he tore himself away, springing down the stairs in mad haste.
“Madame de Heidendorf is good enough to say she will come and see the
troops defile from the Glacis,” said the Archduke to Kate, as, still
overwhelmed with sorrow, she stood where Frank had left her. “Perhaps
you would do us the honor to come also?”
Kate accepted the invitation at once, and hurried to her room for a
bonnet.
“Not that one, Madame la Princesse,” said Nina, eagerly; “the yellow
with black lace, rather. The national colors will be a flattery to his
Royal Highness.”
“What a coquette you are, Nina!”
“And how irresistible would Madame be were she to condescend to be even
a little of one!” said Nina, smiling.
“Perhaps I may yet,” said Kate, half sighing as she spoke; and Nina's
dark eyes sparkled as she heard her. “But what do you mean by coquetry,
Nina?” asked she, after a pause.
“It may mean much, Madame, or very little. With such as I am it may be
a rose-colored ribbon; with Madame la Princesse it may be the smile that
wins royalty. Coquetry, after all, is a mere recognition of admiration.
An old Spanish dramatist says, 'That a glance from bright eyes is like
the hoisting of an ensign to acknowledge a salute.'”
“How you run on, Nina, and how ashamed I feel when I catch myself
afterwards thinking over your words!”
Nina laughed merrily at this confession, while she opened the door
for Kate to pass out. In a moment after, Kate was seated beside the
Archduke, and Madame de Heidendorf followed in another carriage.
The Archduke was neither very good-looking nor agreeable. His manners
were not remarkable for any peculiar elegance, nor was there in his
air and bearing any of that special charm which very often seems the
prerogative of royal personages; and yet it would have been excessively
difficult to persuade Kate of all this as she drove along the streets
crowded with uncovered heads. The clank of the escort that rode at
either side, the quick roll of the drum and the rush out of the guard
to salute as he passed, created a sensation of pleasure in her mind
like the enjoyment of a delighted child. Oh, if Nelly could but see
her now!--if dear old papa were but there to look at her; and
Hanserl--little Hans----that loved the Hapsburg House as he loved the
Patron Saint of his own village!
It was, indeed, worth something to taste of splendor like this! And now
she issued forth into the spacious Glacis, glittering with thousands
of bayonets, and trembling under the tramp of the moving squadrons. The
whole line saluted as he drove slowly past, band after band taking up
the sounds, till the proud hymn of Austria filled the whole air. The
soldiers cheered, too, loud and long, for his Imperial Highness was
beloved by the army, and, like all his house, was a thorough soldier.
“You have never seen our troops under arms before!” said he, with a
proud elation in his look. “They are fine fellows, and faithful as they
are brave.” He was about to say more, when the dull roll of a drum
was heard along the line, and the deep-voiced command from regiment to
regiment ran, “Alle nieder zum Gebet,” and, at the word, every weapon
was lowered, and every head drooped forward in prayer. Not a sound--not
a whisper--was heard in that mighty host, till, after the expiration of
some minutes, the command once more summoned them to arms. Then came
the word “March!” and with a cheer that made the very air vibrate, the
troops set out for “Italy.”