Frank gazed at the regiment with a strange sensation of awe and fear.
“There lies my destiny!” thought he. “Who knows what friendships or enmities await me yonder? What hearts in that dark mass will beat responsively with my own; what sources of sorrow or affliction may I meet with amongst them!”
“I wish thou hadst a better regiment, Dalton,” said Walstein.
“How a better? Is it not a brave and distinguished corps?”
“Brave enough,” said the other, laughing; “and as for distinction, an Archduke owns and commands it. But that is not what I mean. The regiment is a poor one; the officers are from Upper Austria, with little or no fortune, fellows who dine for a zwanziger, play dominos for two kreutzers, waltz at the wine-gardens, and fight duels with sabres.”
Frank laughed at the description; but his laugh had more of gloom than mirth about it, for he felt at every moment the false position be occupied, and how inextricably complicated his circumstances were becoming. Every allusion to others showed him in what light he was himself regarded. “Was his deception honorable? was it possible to continue it?” were the questions that would obtrude upon him, and for which no ingenuity could find answer.
“There 's the corps for you, Dalton,” said Walstein, drawing his attention to the “Hungarian Guard,” all glittering with gold embroidery, and mounted upon the most beautiful white chargers, at once the most perfect riders and the best mounted cavalry in Europe. “In that regiment you are certain of being quartered either here or in Prague. Those laced jackets are too costly wear to send down to the Banat, or among the wilds of Wallachia. Besides, the Empress likes to see these gaudy fellows on their 'schimmels' beneath the Palace windows. Your uncle will, of course, grumble a little about the cost. Perhaps your father, too, will look a little grave when he hears of six thousand florins for a 'dolman,' and four for a 'schabrach;' while ten or twelve horses the very least you could keep would scarcely sound like a moderate stable. Still, depend upon it, the corps is as good for service as it is costly, and Creptowitz, their Colonel, is a true hussar.”
For a moment Dalton hesitated whether he should not make the honest avowal of his narrow fortune, and tell that he had no pretension to such habits of cost and expense; but shame was too powerful to permit the acknowledgment. He had already gone too far to retract, and he felt that any candor now would be the confession of a cheat. If these were harassing and torturing reflections, one flickering ray of hope still glimmered through the gloom; and this was, what he might expect from his uncle. “If he be really rich, as they say,” thought Frank, “if his favor be so great with the Emperor, even such a career as this may not be above my prospects.” As he revolved these thoughts, he sat with his head buried between his hands, forgetful of where he was and all around him.
“You 're losing everything, Dalton,” said Walstein. “See, there go the 'Kaiser Jagers,' with their bugles, the finest in the service; and yonder are the Lichtenstein 'Light Horse,' mounted on thorough-bred cattle; and there, to the left, those savage-looking fellows with long beards, they are the 'Croat Grenadiers.' But here comes the Emperor!” And, as he spoke, one deafening cheer burst forth along the line, and was echoed back from the walls of Vienna; while every band struck up the national hymn of Austria, and the proud notes of “God preserve the Emperor!” floated through the air.
A brilliant staff of generals of every arm of the service accompanied “the Kaiser;” and Walstein ran quickly over the names of these, many of whom were among the first nobility of the Empire. Some were the war-worn veterans of the great campaigns; some the young hopes of Austrian chivalry; but, conspicuous above all, was a figure whose stature, as well as the singularity of his uniform, attracted Frank's notice. He was a very tall old man, dressed in a uniform of purple velvet slashed with gold, and actually covered with the crosses and decorations of various orders. His cap was a tall chako of red-brown fur, from which a long, straight scarlet plume floated, and beneath which his gray hair was fastened in a queue, that hung half-way down his back. Yellow buskins ornamented with massive gold spurs completed a costume which seemed almost a compromise between the present and some bygone age.