CHAPTER IV. A PACKAGE OF LETTERS
It was a bright clear morning in May. A somewhat late spring had retarded vegetation, and the blossoming fruit-trees now added their gorgeous beauty to the warmer tints of coming summer. We are once more in Baden; but how different is it from what we saw it last. The frozen fountains now plash, and hiss, and sparkle in the sun. The trim alleys are flanked by the yellow crocus and the daffodil; the spray-like foliage of the ash is flecking the sunlight on the merry river, along whose banks the cheering sound of pleasant voices mingles with the carol of a thousand birds. The windows are open, and gay balconies are spreading, and orange-trees unfolding their sweetness to the breezy air. All is life and motion and joy, for the winter is past, and nothing remains of it save the snow-peaks on some distant mountains, and even they are glowing in brilliant contrast with the deep blue sky beyond them.
Lovely as the valley is in summer or autumn, it is only in spring its perfect beauty appears. The sudden burst of vegetation—the rapid transition from the frost-bound durance of winter to the life and lightness of the young season, have a most exciting and exhilarating effect. This seemed conspicuous enough in the inhabitants as they chatted merrily in the streets, or met each other with pleasant greetings. It was the hour of the post arriving, and around the little window of the office were gathered the chief celebrities of the village,—the principal hotel-keepers, curious to learn what tidings their correspondents gave of the prospects of the coming summer. Everything appeared to smile on that happy moment, for as the various letters were opened, each had some good news to tell his neighbors,—now of some great English Lord, now of some Hungarian magnate or Russian Prince that was to make Baden his residence for the summer. “The Cour de Bade is all taken,” said one; “There will not be a room free in all the Adler;” “The Swan must refuse the Queen of Naples,”—such were the rumors that fell from lip to lip as in hearty congratulation they talked over their good fortune.
One figure only of the assembled group seemed excepted from the general Joy. He was a large elderly man, who, in a patched and threadbare surtout, with a coarse scarlet muffler round his throat, appeared either distrustful of the mild season or unprovided with any change of costume to enjoy it. Seated on a stone bench in front of the window of the post-office, with an arm on each knee, and his head bent heavily forward, he never seemed to notice what went forward, nor hear one syllable of the joyous recognitions about him.
The crowd at last dispersed, the happy recipients of good news were turning homewards, and only one or two still lingered around the spot, when the old man arose and approached the window. There was something almost of shame in the way he slouched his hat over his eyes as he drew nigh and knocked timidly at the closed pane.
His summons was unheard, and yet for some time he did not repeat it,—perhaps he loved better to feed his hope even these short few moments than again fall back into the dark gloom of his despair! At last, and with a deep, hollow sigh, he tapped again.
“Have you anything for the name of Dalton,—Peter Dalton?” asked he, in a voice wherein scarcely an accent revealed the once high-hearted nature.
“Nothing,” was the curt rejoinder. And the window was slammed to with impatience.
He grasped the iron railing with a convulsive grip, as though a sudden pang had shot through him, and then, by a great effort, he drew himself up to his full height; his pale and haggard face grew paler as he turned it upwards, and his bloodless lips trembled as they muttered some indistinct syllables; then turning about, he brushed abruptly past the few who stood around, and walked away.
He had not gone many paces when a boy overtook him, saying, “Come back, sir; the postmaster has two letters for you.”
Dalton looked stealthily at either side, to be sure that the speech was addressed to him, and, with a fierceness that startled the boy, said, “You're certain they're for me?”
“Yes, yes; all right,—here they are,” cried the postmaster from the window. “One, a soldier's letter from Munich, and free. The other is a heavier packet, and costs four florins and twelve kreutzers.”
“I must be satisfied with this one, then,” said Dalton, “till I go back for money. I brought no change out with me.”
“No matter: you can send it,” said the other.
“Maybe it's not so easy as you think,” muttered Dalton to himself; while he added, aloud, “Very well, I'll do so, and thank you.” And he clutched the two letters, and pressed them to his bosom.
With hurried steps he now paced homewards, but, stopping at every instant, he drew forth the packets to gaze at them, and be certain that no self-deception was over him, and that his possession was real and tangible. His gait grew more firm, as he went, and his tread, as he mounted the stairs, sounded assured and steady.
“You have a letter, father dearest,” cried Nelly, as she flung wide the door. “I saw you crossing the Platz, and I know, from your walk, that you've got one.”
“No, but better, Nelly—I 've two. That's from Frank; and here's Kate's, and a bulky one—four florins twelve—devil a less.”
“Oh, give it to me! Let me hear of her——let me feel beside her once again!” cried Nelly. And with bursting eagerness she tore open the envelope, from which two or three sealed notes fell out. “This is from Lady 'Hester,” said she; “and this a hand I do not know, but addressed to you; and here are bills or money-orders for a large sum. What can all this mean?”
“Can't you read what she says?” said Dalton, reddening, and suddenly remembering that Nelly was not aware of his having written to Kate. “Give it to me; I 'll read it myself.” And he snatched the letter from her fingers. “There's Frank's for you.”
“Oh, father, father!” cried Nelly, in a burst of grief, as she tore open Lady Hester's letter; “it is as I feared. Kate is about to be married—if she be not already married.”
“Without my leave—without asking my consent!” cried Dalton, passionately. “Am I nobody at all? Am I the head of the family, or am I not? Is this the way to treat her father? May I never see light, if I won't have him 'out,' if he was a Prince of the Blood! Oh, the ungrateful girl! Leave off crying there, and tell me all about it. Read me her own letter, I say——if God will give me patience to listen to it.”
With a bosom almost bursting, and a lip quivering with emotion, Ellen began,—
“La Rocca, Lake of Como.
Dearest Father and Sister,—Oh that I could throw myself at
your feet, and poor out all that my heart is full of——
tell you what I feel and hope and fear, and ask your counsel
and your blessing. I know not if the last few days be real;
my poor head is turning amid the scenes I 've passed through
and the emotions I have felt. I had no friend but Lady
Hester—no adviser but she! She has been a mother to me—not
as you would have been, Nelly—not to warn and restrain,
when perhaps both were needed, but to encourage and feed my
hopes. I yielded to her counsels—”
“I don't understand one word of this,” cried Dalton, impatiently. “What did she do?”
Nelly's eyes ran rapidly over the lines without speaking; and then, in a low but distinct voice, she said,—-
“It is as I said; she is betrothed to this great Russian Prince.”
“That fellow, they say, owns half Moscow. Fogles told us about him.”
“Prince Midchekoff.”
“That's the name. Well, it's a fine match,—there's no denying it. How did it come about? and why didn't he come here and ask my consent? What's the meaning of doing it all in this hurry?”
“The marriage can only take place in St. Petersburg, and in presence of the Emperor; and she is merely betrothed, at present, to enable her to accompany the lady, Madame de Heidendorf, to Russia, where the Prince will follow in a few weeks.”
“That bangs Banagher! Why could n't they get a priest where they are? Be gorra! they 've scruples about everything but me! I 'm the only one that's not considered! What the devil is the Emperor to her,—sure he is n't her father? Well, well, go on.”
“She would seem to have yielded to persuasion,” said Nelly, feelingly. “The Prince, with all his greatness, appears not to have won her heart. See how she dwells upon his immense wealth and the splendor of his position.”
“Let us hear about that,” cried Dalton, eagerly.
“My heart is nigh to bursting when I think of you and
dearest Nelly living with me, in all the enjoyment that
riches can bestow, nothing denied you that you can fancy,
and free to indulge every taste and every wish. To know that
I can at last repay, in some sort, all your affection—that
poor worthless Kate can minister to your pleasure and your
comfort—would make me dare a rasher destiny than this. And
he is so generous, Nelly. The whole of yesterday is like a
page from the 'Arabian Nights,' as I sat surrounded with
gorgeous articles of gold and gems—diamonds such as a queen
might wear, and rubies larger than the glass-drops I used to
deck my hair with long ago! And yet they tell me I have seen
nothing as yet, and that the treasures of Vladovitch Palace
I hear of at every moment are greater than most royal
houses. Lady Hester is kinder than ever, and the Heidendorf
also; but she is cold and reserved—too stately for my
taste—and I cannot overcome my awe of her. Is not this like
a confession of my unfitness for the station I am to
occupy?—are not these signs of inferiority? How little Hans
would stare at the objects of taste and art by which I am
surrounded and of which I never tire in admiring!
“There have been great changes in this family since I wrote,
and some mysterious circumstance is now hanging over them;
but Lady Hester has not told me anything, nor do I care to
repeat rumors which reach me through others. I only know
that Sir Stafford is about to proceed to England as soon as
Captain Onslow's health will permit; he, poor fellow, met
with an accident on the day we left Florence, and my maid,
who sat in the rumble, saw the mishap without knowing or
suspecting the victim! I have done everything to obtain
leave to visit you before I set out, or even to see you on
my way; but Madame de Heidendorf is absolute, and she has
so much important business in hand—such deep political
affairs to transact at Vienna and Dresden—that I find it is
impossible.
“The Prince has promised to write at once about Frank. He
says it will be better to obtain his promotion in the
Austrian service before he enters the Russian, and that this
shall take place immediately. I could see that on this point
he was acutely alive to the fact of our humble position;
but he knows from Lady Hester all about our family, and that
the Daltons acknowledge nothing superior to them in birth.
This, however, is always a difficulty to a foreigner; they
have no idea of untitled nobility; and I saw his chagrin
the other day when I told him to address papa as plain
Monsieur. Since yesterday morning I am called Princess; and
I cannot conceal from you the throb of delight the sound
still gives me! I often stop to ask myself if this be all a
dream, and shall I wake beside the fire and see dearest
Nelly bending over some little group, and Hans with
wondering eyes staring over her shoulders.
“The Prince only intends to spend one winter in Russia.
Madame de Heidendorf says that he will be named Ambassador
at Paris; but I hope and trust not: I feel too acutely my
inferiority for such a position. This she laughs at, and
merely says, 'Nous verrons.' Of course, wherever I am, you
will both be with me; meanwhile, what would you wish to do?
I told Monsieur Rubion, the Prince's secretary, that I
wanted money, and he gave me these bills, so he called them,
on Baden and Carlsruhe, as easily negotiable in that
neighborhood; pray, say if they be serviceable. The Prince
intends to visit you at Baden; and I suppose you will like
to see him. His manners are perfect, and except a degree of
constraint in first acquaintance, he is generally thought
very agreeable. Such preparations as they are making for my
journey, you 'd fancy I was a queen at the very least All my
trousseau is to come from Paris direct; and up to this I
have merely what Madame de H. calls the strictly
'indispensable;' which, shall I own? contrives to fill two
large fourgons and a heavy travelling-carriage. Nina is in a
perfect ecstasy at everything, and is eternally 'draping' me
in Brussels lace and Chantilly; so that, even while I
write, these flimsy tissues are floating around me; while
caskets of jewels and precious gems dazzle my eyes wherever
I turn them.
“The whole is like a gorgeous vision; would that it might
remain ever thus, for I almost tremble to take a step
further. Are these unworthy fears? I hope they are.”
Nelly paused, and laid down the letter on her knee. “Well, may I never see grace, if that letter isn't enough to confuse a bench of bishops!” cried Dalton. “She's marrying the first man in Europe,—be the other who he will,—and she has as many crotchets and misgivings about it as if it was little Hans, there, below! And he a Prince! a real Prince!—devil a doubt of it—that scatters the money about like chaff! Here's an order at sight for nine hundred gulden; and here's a bill at ten days—a nice date—for fourteen hundred and eighty-six Prussian dollars; and this is nearly as much more. Kate, my beauty, I knew you 'd do it! I never looked at you in your old clogs and the worsted cloak that I did n't think of the day I 'd see you in satin and velvet! Faix, it's the best bottle of claret in the Adler I 'll drink your health in this day! Nelly, who will we ask in to dinner?”
“Don't you think, papa, it were better we should not speak of this—”
“Why, better? Are we ashamed of it?”
“I mean, more prudent as regards ourselves, and more respectful to the Prince.”
“Respectful—to my son-in-law!—that's 'more of it.' Upon my conscience, I'll have to go to school again in my old days. I know nothing of life at all, at all! Respect, indeed!”
“I would but suggest, papa, that for Kate's sake—”
“There—there——don't provoke me. I never set my heart on a thing yet—big or little—that I was n't met with a caution about this, or a warning about that, till at last I got so tutored and corrected and trained that, as Billy Morris used to say at whist, 'I dread a good hand more than a bad one.'”
“Far be it from me, dearest father,” said Nelly, smiling, “to throw a shadow over a bright moment. If it will give you pleasure—”
“Sure I said it would,—sure I told you 't is what I 'd like. A fine dinner at the 'Schwan;' four gulden a head, without wine; a dozen of champagne in ice, hock for them that can drink it, and port and Lafitte for Peter Dalton and men of his own sentiments. There's the programme, Nelly, and you'll see if I can't fill up the details.”
“Well, but we have yet much to do; here are several letters,—here is Frank's. Let us learn how the dear fellow fares.”
Dalton sat down without speaking; there was, indeed, more of resignation than curiosity in his features, as he crossed his arms and listened.
“Dearest Nelly,——I only heard a few days ago that my last
two letters had been stopped; they were not, as they should
have been, submitted to my captain to read, and hence they
were arrested and suppressed. This goes by a private hand—a
friend of mine—a pedler from Donaueschingen—”
“A what?—a pedler is it?” broke in Dalton, angrily.
“Yes, papa; remember that poor Frank is still in the ranks.”
“Well, God give me patience with you all!” burst out the old man, in a torrent of passion. “Does he know that he's a Dalton?—does he feel blood in his veins? Why the blazes must he seek out a thieving blaguard with a pack full of damaged cambric to make a friend of? Is this the way the family's getting up in the world?”
“Adolf Brawer, by name,” read on Nelly, in a low and subdued
voice. “You will be surprised when I tell you that I owe all
his kindness and good-nature to you,—yes, to your own dear
self. On his way through the Tyrol he had bought two wooden
statuettes,—one a young soldier asleep beside a well; the
other a girl leaning from a window to hear the bugles of a
departing regiment Can you guess whose they were? And when
he came to know that I was the brother of the little N. D.
that was sculptured, half hid in a corner, and that I was
the original of the tired, wayworn recruit on the roadside,
I thought he would have cried with enthusiasm.”
“Didn't I often say it?” broke in Dalton, as, wringing his hands in despair, he paced the room with hasty strides. “Did n't I warn you a thousand times about them blasted images, and tell you that, sooner or later, it would get about who made them? Didn't I caution you about the disgrace you 'd bring on us? The fear of this was over me this many a day. I had it like a dream on my mind, and I used to say to myself, 'It will all come out yet.'” #
Nelly covered her face with her apron as these bitter words were spoken; but not a syllable, nor a sigh, did she reply to them; still, the frail garment shook with an emotion that showed how intensely she suffered.
“A Virgin sold here, an Angel Gabriel there; now it was Hamlet; another time Gotz with the iron hand. All the balderdash that ever came into your head scattered over the world to bring shame on us! And then to think of Kate!”
“Yes, dearest father, do think of her,” cried Nelly, passionately. “She is, indeed, an honor and a credit to you.”
“And so might you have been, too, Nelly,” rejoined he, half sorry for his burst of anger. “I 'm sure I never made any difference between you. I treated you all alike, God knows.” And truly, if an indiscriminating selfishness could plead for him, the apology was admirable.
“Yes, papa, but Nature was less generous,” said Nelly, smiling through her tears; and she again turned to the letter before her. As if fearful to revive the unhappy discussion, she passed rapidly over Frank's account of his friend's ecstasy; nor did she read aloud till she came to the boy's narrative of his own fortunes.
“You ask me about Count Stephen, and the answer is a short
one. I have seen him only once. Our battalion, which was
stationed at Laybach, only arrived in Vienna about three
weeks ago, but feeling it a duty to wait on our relative, I
obtained leave one evening to go and pay my respects. Adolf,
who knew of my connection with the Field-Marshal, had lent
me two hundred florins; and this, too, I was anxious to pay
off,—another reason for this visit.
“Well, I dressed myself in my best cadet cloth, and silk
sword-knot,
Nelly,—none of your 'commissaire' toggery, but all fine and
smart-looking, as a gentleman-cadet ought to be,—and then
calling a fiacre, I ordered the man to drive to the
'Koertnor Thor,' to the Field-Marshal von Auersberg*s
quarters. I 'm not sure if I did n*t say to my uncle's. Away
we went gayly, and soon drew up in an old-fashioned
courtyard, from which a great stair led up four stories
high, at the top of which the 'Feld'—so they called him—
resided. This was somewhat of a come-down to my high-flown
expectations, but nothing to what I felt as the door was
opened by an old Jager with one leg, instead of, as I looked
for, a lackey in a grand livery.
“'What is 't cadet?' said he, in a tone of the coolest
familiarity.
“'The Field-Marshal von Auersberg lives here?' said I.
“He nodded.
“'I wish to see him.'
“He shook his head gravely, and scanning me from head to
foot, said, 'Not at this hour, cadet,——not at this hour.'
“'Let him see this card,' said I, giving one with my name.
'I 'm certain he 'll receive me.'
“I believe if I had presented a pistol at him, the old
fellow would have been less startled, as he exclaimed, 'A
cadet with a visiting-card! This would serve you little with
the Feld, younker,' cried he, handing it back to me; 'he
likes to see a soldier a soldier.'
“'Tell him my name, then,' said I, angrily; 'say that his
grand-nephew, Frank Dalton, has been standing at his door in
full parley with a servant for ten minutes.'
“The announcement created little of the astonishment I
calculated on, and the old soldier merely replied, 'All
under field-officer's rank come before eight of a morning.
you cannot expect to have the privilege of an archduke.' He
was about to close the door in my face as he spoke, but I
placed my shoulder against it and forced it back, thus
securing an entrance within the forbidden precincts.
“'Right about, quick march!' cried he, pointing to the
door, while his whole frame trembled with passion.
“'Not till you have delivered my message,' said I, calmly.
“'Then Bey'm Blitzen I will deliver it, and see how you 'll
like it,' cried he, as he stumped away down a passage and
entered a room at the end of it. I could soon hear the sound
of voices, and for the moment I was almost determined to
beat a retreat, when suddenly the old Jager came out and
beckoned me forward. There was a grin of most diabolical
delight on the old fellow's features as I passed into the
room and closed the door behind me.
“As well as I could see in the imperfect light, for it was
after sunset, the apartment was large and low-ceilinged,
with bookshelves round the walls, and stands for weapons and
military equipments here and there through it. At the stove,
and busily engaged in watching a coffee-pot, sat the Feld
himself, a loose gray overcoat covering his figure, and
concealing all of him but two immense jackboots that peeped
out beneath. He wore a Mütze, a kind of Hungarian cap, and a
long pipe depended from his mouth, the bowl resting on the
carpet. The most conspicuous feature of all was, however,
his enormous moustache, which, white as snow, touched his
collar-bone at either side.
“He never spoke a word as I entered, but stared at me
steadfastly and sternly for full three or four minutes. Half
abashed by this scrutiny, and indignant besides at the
reception, I was about to—
“'Franz Carl Infantry, third battalion,' said I, instantly
saluting with my hand.
“'Your name?'
“'Frank Dalton.'
“'Your business?'
“'To visit my grand-uncle, the Field-Marshal von Auersberg.'
“'And is it thus, younker,' cried he, rising, and drawing
himself up to his full height, 'that you dare to present
yourself before a
Feldzeugmeister of the Imperial Army? Have they not
taught you even the commonest rules of discipline? Have
they left you in the native barbarism of your own savage
country, that you dare, against my orders, present yourself
before me?' “'I thought the claim of kindred—' began
I.
“'What know I of kindred, sirrah? What have kith and kin
availed me? I have stood alone in the world. It was not to
kindred I owed my life on the field of Rosbach; nor was it
a relative stanched my bleeding wounds at Wagram!'
“'The name of Dalton—'
“'I have won a prouder one, sir, and would not be reminded
by you from what I 've started. Where 's your character-
certificate?'
“'I have not brought it with me, Herr General. I scarcely
thought it would be the first question my father's uncle would
put to me.'
'“There was prudence in the omission, too, sir,' said he,
not heeding my remark. 'But I have it here.' And he drew
from a portfolio on the table a small slip of paper, and
read: '“Cadet Dalton, second company of the third
battalion, Franz Carl Regiment.——Smart on service, and
quick in discipline, but forward and petulant with those
above him in rank. Disposed to pride himself on birth and
fortune, and not sufficiently submissive to orders. Twice in
arrest, once, Kurzgeschlossen.” A creditable character, sir!
Twice in arrest and once in irons! And with this you claim
kindred with a count of the empire, and an imperial field-
marshal! On the fifth of last month you entertained a party
at dinner at the Wilde Man,—most of them men of high rank
and large fortune. On the eighteenth you drove through Maria
Tell with a team of four horses, and passed the drawbridge
and the moat in full gallop. So late as Wednesday last you
hoisted a green flag on the steeple of the village church,
on pretence of honoring your father's birthday. I know each
incident of your career, sir, and have watched you with
shame and regret. Tell your father, when you write to him,
that all the favor of my august master would not endure the
test of two such protégés. And now, back to your
quarters.'
“He motioned me to retire with a gesture, and I fell back,
almost glad at any cost to escape. I had just reached the
stair, when the Jager called me back to his presence.
“'Art an only son?' asked the Count, for the first time
addressing me in the second person.
“I bowed.
“'And hast three sisters?'
“'Two, Herr General.'
“'Older or younger than thyself?'
'“Both older, sir.'
'“How have they been brought up? Have they learned thrift
and housecraft, or are they wasteful and reckless, as their
native country and their name would bespeak them?'
“'Our humble fortune is the best answer to that question,
sir.'
'“It is not, sirrah!' cried he, angrily. 'The spendthrift
habit survives every remnant of the state that gave it
birth, and the beggar can be as improvident as the prince.
Go; thou hast as much to learn of the world as of thy duty.
Head erect, sir; shoulders back; the right thumb more
forwards. If the rest of the battalion be like thee, I'll
give them some work on the Prater ere long.'
“A haughty wave of his hand now finished our interview, and,
once outside the door, I descended the stairs, a whole
flight at every bound, in terror lest anything should induce
him to recall me.
“And this is Uncle Stephen, Nelly,—this the great protector
we used to build our hopes upon, and flatter ourselves would
be a second father to us!
“When I came out into the street, I knew not which way to
turn. I dreaded the very sight of a comrade, lest he should
ask me about our meeting, what pocket-money he had given me,
and how soon I should be an officer. It was only when I saw
Adolf coming towards me that I remembered all about my debt
to him, of which I had not spoken one word to my uncle. I
ought to have told him so, frankly. Yes, Nelly, I can hear
the murmured displeasure with which you read my confession,
'that I could n't do it.' I was unequal to the effort, and
could not bring myself to destroy that whole fabric of
fictitious interest in which I had wrapped myself. What
would Adolf have thought of me when I said, I have neither
wealth nor station nor prospect,—as humble a soldier as the
sentry you see yonder? What would become of that romance of
life in which we have so often spent hours revelling in a
brilliant future, every incident of which grew up in our
united fancies, and seemed to assume reality as we discussed
it? Where——oh, Nelly! to you I must reveal all——every
weakness, every littleness of my nature—where would be the
homage of respect the poor Bursche was wont to show the
nephew of a field-marshal? No, it was above my strength;
and so I took his arm, and talked away heedlessly about our
meeting, avoiding, where I could, all mention of my uncle,
and but jocularly affecting to think him an original, whose
strange, old-fashioned manners almost concealed the strong
traits of family affection.
“'What of thy promotion, Frank?' asked Adolf.
“'It will come in its own good time/ said I, carelessly.
'Nothing causes more dissatisfaction than the rapid
advancement of cadets of noble family.'
“'But they could make thee a corporal, at least?'
“I laughed scornfully at the remark, and merely said, 'They
may skip over the whole sous-officier grade, and only
remember me when I'm to be made a lieutenant/
“'Thou hast grown haughtier, Frank,' said he, half
reproachfully, 'since thy meeting with the “Feld.” Mayhap in
a day or two thou wilt not like to be seen in company with a
“Wander-Bursche”?'
“I was bursting to throw my arms round his neck, and say,
'Never, whatever fortune have in store for me; thy
friendship is like a brother's, and can never be forgotten;
'but Pride—yes, Nelly, the cursed pride against which you
used to warn me—sealed my lips; and when I spoke, it was
something so cold, so meaningless, and so unworthy that he
left me. I know not how! No sooner was I alone, Nelly, than
I burst into tears. I cried for very shame; and if agony
could expiate my fault, mine should have done so. What
humiliation before my friend could equal that I now felt
before my own heart! I thought of all your teachings,
dearest Nelly; of the lessons you gave me over and over
against this besetting sin of my nature! I thought of our
home, where poor Hanserl was treated by us as a friend! I
thought of our last parting, and the words you spoke to me
in warning against this very pride, ignoble and mean as it
is; and, oh! what would I have given to have thrown myself
into Adolfs arms, and told him everything! I have never seen
him since; he wrote to me a few lines, saying that he
should pass through Baden on his way to Frankfort, and
offering to carry a letter for me; but not once did he
allude to my debt, nor was there the slightest hint of its
existence. On this I wrote an acknowledgment of the loan,
and a pressing entreaty that he would come and see me; but
he pretended one thing and another, affected engagements at
the only hours I was free, and at last abruptly sent for my
letter just when I was writing it. I had much more to tell
you, Nelly, of myself, of the service, and of my daily life
here; but my thoughts are now disturbed and scattered; and
I feel, too, how your shame for my short-coming will take
away interest from what I say. You, Nelly, will have courage
to be just: tell him all that I have been weak enough to
conceal; let him know what suffering my unworthy shame has
cost me; and, above all, that I am not ungrateful.
“It seems like a dream all that you tell me of Kate. Is she
still in Italy, and where? Would she write to me? I am
ashamed to ask the question of herself. They spoke of our
brigade being sent to Lombardy; but even there I might be
far away from her; and if near, in the very same city, our
stations would separate us still more widely. Oh, Nelly! is
it worth all the success ever ambition the most successful
won, thus to tear up the ties of family, and make brothers
and sisters strangers? Would that I were back again with
you, and dearest Kate, too! I see no future here; the dull
round of daily discipline, teaching nothing but obedience,
shuts out speculation and hope! Where are the glorious
enterprises, the splendid chances I often dreamed of? My
happiest moments now are recalling the past; the long winter
evenings beside the hearth, while Hans was reading out to
us. There are rumors of great changes in the world of Europe;
but to us they are only the thunderings of a distant
storm, to break out in what quarter we know not. Oh, Nelly!
if it should lead to war! if some glorious struggle were to
break in upon this sluggish apathy!
“Adolf has sent again for this letter, so I must close it He
will not, he says, pass through Baden, but will post this in
Munich—so good-bye, dearest sister. Tell poor papa all that
you dare to tell of me, and farewell.
“Frank Dalton.
“When you write it must be under cover to the 'Herr Hauptman von Gauss, 2ten Compagnie, 3 Linien Bataillon, Franz Carl Infanterie.' Don't forget this long address, nor to add a line to the captain himself, who is a good-looking fellow, but somewhat conceited.
“I have just heard old Auersberg is to have a command again. I 'm heartily sorry for it. So much for family influence!”
If the reader's patience has lasted through this long letter of Frank's, it was more than Peter Dalton's did. For what between his ecstasy at Kate's good fortune, his own rambling speculations on all that should follow from it, and, above all, what from the slurring monotonous tone in which Nelly passed over such portions as she did not wish him to hear, he grew gradually more abstracted and dreamy, and at last fell off into a deep and most happy slumber. Not a syllable did he hear of the old Feld's reception of Frank; nor did he even awake as little Hans stumped into the room, with a staff in either hand,—aids that, since his accident, he could never dispense with.
“I heard that you had letters, Fräulein,” said he. “Do they bring good tidings?”
“Some would call them so, Hanserl,” said she, with a sigh. “Kate is about to be married.”
Hanserl made no reply, but sat slowly down, and crossed his arms before him.
“The great Russian Prince Midchekoff, of whom you may have heard.”
“I have seen him, Fräulein; he was here in Baden, three years ago.”
“Oh, then, tell me, Hanserl, what is he like? Is he young and frank-looking? Seems he one that should have won a maiden's heart so suddenly, that——that—”
“No, not that she could n't have written to her sister and asked for counsel, Fräulein,” said Hans, continuing her sentence. “The Prince is a cold, austere man, proud to his equals, I believe, but familiar enough to such as me. I remember how he asked me of my life, where I came from, and how I lived. He seemed curious to hear about the train of thoughts suggested by living amid objects of such childish interest, and asked me, 'If I did not often fancy that this mock world around me was the real one?' 'You are right, Herr Prints,' said I; 'but, after all, here, at least, we are equals.' 'How so?' said he. 'That your real world is as great a mockery as mine.' 'Thou are right, dwarf,' said he, thoughtfully, and fell a-musing. He should not have called me dwarf, for men know me as Hans Roëckle,—and this is your sister's husband!”
“Is he mild and gentle-mannered?” asked Nelly, eagerly.
“The great are always so, so far as I have seen; none but base metal rings loudly, maiden. It is part of their pride to counterfeit humility.”
“And his features, Hans?”
“Like one of those portraits in the gallery at Wurtzburg. One who had passions and a temper for a feudal age, and was condemned to the slavery of our civilization.”
“He is much older than Kate?” asked she again.
“I have seen too few like him even to guess at his age; besides, men of his stamp begin life with old temperaments, and time wears them but little.”
“Oh, Hanserl, this seems not to promise well. Kate's own nature is frank, generous, and impulsive; how will it consort with the cold traits of his?”
“She marries not for happiness, but for ambition, maiden. They who ascend the mountain-top to look down upon the scene below them, must not expect the sheltering softness of the valley at their feet. The Fräulein Kate is beautiful, and she would have the homage that is paid to beauty. She has chosen her road in life; let us at least hope she knows how to tread it!”
There was a tone of almost sternness in Hanserl's manner that Nelly well knew boded deep and intense feeling, and she forebore to question him further for some time.
“You will leave this, then, Fräulein?” said he at last “You will quit the humble valley for the great world?”
“I know not, Hanserl, what my father may decide. Kate speaks of our joining her in Russia; but the long Journey in his infirm state, not to speak of other reasons, may prevent this. Shall I tell you of Frank? Here is a long letter from him.” And, almost without waiting for his reply, she read out the greater portion of the epistle.
“I like the old Feld!” cried Hans, enthusiastically. “He would teach the boy submission, and self-reliance, too,—lessons that, however wide apart they seem, go ever hand in hand; an old warrior that has trained his bold nature to habits of obedience in many a year of trial and injustice, unfriended and alone, with nothing but his stout heart and good sword to sustain him. I like that Feld, and would gladly pledge him in a glass of Steinberger!”
“And you shall, my little man,” said Dalton, waking up, and catching the last words of Hanserl's speech. “The old Count was kind to Frank, and I 'll drink his health this night, with all the honors. Read him the letter, Nelly. Show him how old Stephen received the boy. That's blood for you!—a true Dalton!”
Hanserl stared from father to daughter, and back again, without speaking; while Nelly, blushing deeply, held down her head, without a word.
“His letter to us was dry enough. But what matter for that? He never wrote a line,—maybe, did n't speak a word of English for upwards of forty years. You can't expect a man to have the 'elegant correspondent' at his fingers' ends after that space of time. But the heart!—that's the main point, Hans. The heart is in the right place. Read that bit over again, Nelly; I forget the words he said.”
“Oh, no, papa. Hans has Just beard it all, from beginning to end; and you know we have so much to do. Here's Lady Hester's note, and here's one from the Prince, still unopened.”
“Ay, to be sure. I 'm certain you 'll excuse me, Hans,” said Dalton, putting on his spectacles, while he assumed a manner of condescending urbanity very puzzling to the poor dwarf. “Why, Nelly dear, this is French. Give me that note of Lady Hester's, and do you take this. Oh, by my conscience, I 'm no better off now! The devil such writing as this ever I seen! It's all 'm's' and 'w's' every bit of it You'll keep them both for the evening, my dear. Hans will dine with us, and I 'll go out to look for a bit of fish, and see if I can find another pleasant fellow to round off the table with us. God be with old Kilmurray M'Mahon, where I could have had twenty as easy as two, and each of them a good warrant for four bottles, besides! Is n't it a droll world?” muttered he, as he took down his hat and descended the stairs. “A good dinner, and only a cripple for company! Faix! I 'm like the chap in the Bible, that had to ask the beggars and the blaguards when he could n't get better.” And with this very wise reflection, Peter Dalton hummed a Jig to himself as he took his way to the fish-market.