The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II

“Simply this, Madame: habits of wasteful expenditure have unsuited him to the stern realities of a soldier’s life. With his fortune and his tastes, he should have sought service among those popinjays that English tailors make lancers or hussars of. He might have won the laurels that are gathered on Honnslow or St. James’s Park; he might have been distinguished in that barbaric warfare you call an Indian campaign; but here, in this empire, where soldiering means discipline, self-denial, hardship, endurance! – I was eight years a cadet, Madame, twelve a sous-lieutenant. I saw the decoration I should have received given to another. The Dienst Kreutz I had won was refused me, because I had not served twenty years; and yet, by accepting these and hundreds like them as the inevitable necessities of the service, I am what now you see me.”

“And if Frank will be but patient – ”

“He may be a corporal within a year, Madame,” said the Feld, gravely, and with the air of a man who had advanced a somewhat bold pledge.

“But he must be an officer within a week, sir,” said Kate, taking the General’s hand within her own. “I seldom ask favors, and as seldom are they refused me. The chivalry of Austria will surely suffer no attaint from one whose distinction it is to be your relative, and a Dalton. Nay, dear uncle, this is the first, the very first request I have ever made of you. It would not be meet for me to say, in your presence, what a guerdon is his name for his good conduct.”

“You are too sanguine, Madame. You do not know this boy.”

“Every thought of his heart I know, – every hope that sustains him. He himself has told me all his shortcomings.”

“His insubordination?”

“Yes.”

“Extravagance?”

“Yes.”

“His days of imprisonment?”

“Yes.”

“His arrests in irons?”

“All – everything; and what are they, save the boyish excesses of one who, carried away by high spirits, and buoyed up by the flattering sense of relationship to a great and distinguished name, has been led on to follies by the mere native warmth of temperament? It is easy to see how little he thought of himself, and how much of his uncle!”

The old General shook his head dubiously.

“There, dear uncle,” said she, pressing him into a seat before a table with writing-materials, “take that pen and write.”

“Write what, dear child?” said he, with a softness very different from his usual manner.

“I know nothing of the forms, nor the fitting phrases. All I want is that Frank should have his sword-knot.”

“You have learned the proper word, I see,” said he, smiling, while he balanced the pen doubtingly in his fingers “The Colonel of his regiment is an imperial prince.”

“So much the better, uncle. A Hapsburg will know how to reward a Dalton.”

“So, then, we begin thus,” said the old General, whose half-suppressed smile showed that he was merely jesting with her eagerness: “‘Imperial Highness, – the Cadet von Dalton, whose distinction it is to be the grand-nephew of a very old soldier, and the brother of a very young princess – ‘”

“Nay, surely, this will not do,” said Kate.

“‘A very young princess,” resumed the Feld, as he continued to write, “‘who, confiding in her own captivations and your Highnesses gallantry – ‘”

“This is but jesting with me, uncle, and I am serious,” said she, poutingly.

“And am not I serious, too, Madame?” cried he, laying down the pen. “If I ask promotion for a boy whose whole career has been one infraction of discipline, whose services are all inscribed in the Provost-Marshal’s return, is it not better that I should press his claims on the merits of others than dwell upon his own misconduct? My dear child,” said he, affectionately, “there are natures that cannot bear a too sudden prosperity, as there are individuals who cannot endure too sudden changes of climate. Our Dalton blood has a little of this same infirmity. Shall I tell you how I won my first step in the service? I was at Hohenkirchen when Morea began his celebrated retreat through the defiles of the Schwartzwald. The company in which I served as a simple corporal occupied a large farm-house, on an elevated plateau, above the road to Schweinfurt. We could see for miles along the valley, and our position was taken up to observe the movement of the enemy, and immediately report when his advanced guard came in sight. Our orders also were to hold the place as long as we were able, and delay as much as possible the enemy’s advance; in other words, if we could retard him by half a day, at the sacrifice of our party, our duty would be well done. These unpleasant situations arise now and then in war; but one comfort is, they seldom occur twice to the same man!”

“The captain who commanded us was an old officer, who had borne his slow promotion with many a heart-burning, and now resolved, come what might, to win his grade.

“Without waiting for the enemy, he took a patrol party, and set out to meet them. We never saw them again! Our lieutenant, alike impatient, determined on a reconnaissance, He had scarcely been gone half an hour, when a quick rattling of fire-arms told us that he was engaged with the enemy. One man alone returned to tell us that the rest had fallen, and that the enemy was approaching in force. The command now devolved on me. I had been four times passed over in promotion, distinct acts of service left unnoticed, and my claims as much ignored as if I was the veriest dolt. I will not pretend to say that I bore these disappointments without pain; but they taught me one lesson at least, ‘that duty is above all consideration of self.’ I well knew what was expected of us, and resolved, if possible, to fulfil it. I prepared at once for a stout resistance, – a hopeless, of course, but an obstinate one. Well, I will not imitate the tardiness of the duty by a similar prolixity. We held the farm for two hours, during which the roof was twice on fire from the enemy’s shells; and when, at length, they stormed the place, our defence was reduced to eight men, commanded by a corporal with two shot-wounds in his chest. We were made prisoners, and carried away to Strasburg, from whence I was exchanged under a cartel, and came back to my regiment as a lieutenant. Had I merely sought promotion, Madame, and followed the dictates of ambition and not of duty, I had perhaps fallen like the others. It was in the very forgetfulness of myself lay my prosperity and my reward.”

Kate’s eyes sought out Frank, resolved on one effort more for her object, but the boy was gone. He had contrived to slip away unseen during the conversation, and was now waiting at the corner of the street, impatient for the General’s departure, to return to his sister.

“I am to have the honor of dining in your company to-day,” said the Feld, rising to take leave. “Let me hope that my obduracy will not weaken your regard for one so proud of being your uncle.”

“No, uncle,” said she, “and chiefly since I do not believe in the obduracy, and have full faith in the affection.”

With every testimony of regard, they now took leave of each other, and the General retired as Kate betook herself to her own room.

She had scarcely left the apartment when the Archduke entered it. Madame de Heidendorf had told him that the Princess was there with her uncle, and he came expressly to see her. “Gone again!” exclaimed he; “am I never to see this mysterious beauty?” while he threw his eyes around the room. “What’s this addressed to myself here?” added he, as he caught sight of the paper which the Feld had half written. “To his Imperial Highness the Archduke Franz Albrecht, commanding the Eleventh Regiment of Infantry.” Rapidly glancing over the few lines, he at once caught their meaning, and detected the playful spirit in which they were conceived. “The fair Princess must not be disappointed in her opinion,” said he, laughingly, as he took up the pen and wrote: “Too happy to anticipate the unexpressed wish, the Archduke appoints Cadet von Dalton to a lieutenancy in the Hussars of the Wurtemberg Regiment,” and signing his well-known initials at the foot, he sealed and addressed the paper to the Princesse de Midchekoff. This done, he left the house, passing as he went a young cadet, whose military salute he scarcely noticed, nor knew the anxious heart for whose happiness he had just provided.

Young Frank stood respectfully at the salute as the Prince passed, and then bounded away to rejoin his sister. The drawing-room, however, was empty, and it was by mere chance that he saw the letter, on which the address was scarcely dry. Taking this with him, he hastened to her room. “A letter for you, Kate,” cried he, “and with a royal seal too!”

“Poor Frank!” said she, coming out to meet him. “That I should have such tidings for you! The Feld is obdurate and unyielding. He fancies that there is no road to honor save the old track he has trod himself.”

“I knew as much, Kate. Had I stayed longer in the room, I could not have refrained from bursting out to say, ‘Hold, sister dearest; not the best grade in all the service is worth so much solicitation. I ‘ll carry the musket while I must, and the day they make me an officer I ‘ll smash the sword across my knee and leave them!’”

Kate broke the seal of the packet without answering this passionate speech, and then, with a cry of joy, exclaimed, “Here it is, Frank! The Prince himself has given you the rank, and in the hussars too!”

“Let me see it,” cried the boy, – “let me see it.” And tearing the paper from her hand, he read it again and again. “I scarce know – I can scarce believe this real; but a Prince’s word – a royal promise, Kate, is surely sacred.”

“Of that there can be no doubt, Frank.”

“And I am a hussar and an officer,” said he, with a burst of delight “I’d not change with the kaiser this minute, Kate.”

“My dear, dear Frank!” said she, passing her arm around his neck.

“And to owe it all to you, my sweet Kate! If anything could enhance the pleasure of this piece of fortune, it is this fact. And such a regiment, Kate, – the Prince Paul’s. The turappé all one mass of gold, and the chako splendid, and their horses the true Hungarian breed, – the native horse crossed with the Arab! I feel already as if I were in the saddle, and careering wildly about. Oh, Kate, what glorious news!”

Again and again he embraced her in his ecstasy, and she, hiding her head upon his shoulder, tried to suppress the burst of emotions which filled her heart, for she thought at what a price she purchased the power she wielded.

They sat long with hands close locked beside each other, – neither speaking, – each travelling his own road of thought; and how wide apart they lay!

CHAPTER XII. VIENNA

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.