“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.”