“A war with whom?” cried several together.
“What care I with whom or where? With Prussia, if you will, to fight out our old scores about Frauconia; with Russia, if you like better, for the Danubian provinces, and her Servian supremacy; with France she 's always ready, with a cause or without one; with Italy to round off our frontier, and push our limits to the Apennines; I'd say with England, only Dalton might n't like it.”
“And where would you pick your quarrel with England?” said Frank, laughing.
“Easily enough, through our ambassador at the Porte, or some outlying station, where Russia is her rival.”
“Hang your politics!” broke in a Hungarian. “Let us fight when the time comes, but not bother our heads about the cause. I 'd rather take my chance of a sabre-cut any day than addle my brains with too much thought. Here 's to you, Dalton, mayst soon be a Rittmeister of Hussars, lad; a prouder thing thou needst not ask for.”
“Thou shalt give us a jolly supper at the 'Schwan,' Dalton, when we meet at Vienna,” said another.
“And we'll pledge those fair sisters of thine and they 're both handsome, I 'll be sworn in the best Tokay Palfi's vineyard can yield.”
“My regiment will be in garrison, in the Leopoldstadt, next month, and I'll remind thee of this pledge.”
“And we shall be at Lintz,” broke in another; “and thou mayst reckon on me, if I have to suffer an arrest for it afterwards.”
“So it is agreed, Dalton, we are thy guests. For what day shall it be?”