“But I have scarcely ever seen Ireland. I know nothing of its grievances or wrongs.”
“I believe they are like our own,” said Ravitzky. “They tell me that your people, like ours, are warm, passionate, and impatient; generous in their attachments, and terrible in their hatred. If it be so, and if England be like Austria, there will be the same game to play out there as here.”
Frank grew thoughtful at these words. He recalled all that the Abbé D'Esmonde had said to him about the rights of a free people and the duties of citizenship, and canvassed within his own mind the devoirs of his position; meanwhile Ravitzky had fallen back to the men and taken his place in the ranks.
“They'll not compromise me before an enemy,” thought Frank; “that I may rely on.” And with this trustful assurance he mounted and rode slowly forward, deeply sunk in thought, and far less pleasantly than was his wont to be. From all the excitement of his late life, with its flatteries and fascinations, he now fell into a thoughtful mood, the deeper that it was so strongly in contrast to what preceded it The greater interests that now flashed across his mind made him feel the frivolity of the part he had hitherto played. “Ravitzky is not older than I am, and yet how differently does he speculate on the future! His ambitions are above the narrow limits of selfish advancement, and the glory he aims at is not a mere personal distinction.”
This was a dangerous theme, and the longer he dwelt upon it the more perilous did it become.
The snow lay in deep drifts in many parts of the mountain, and the progress of the little party became daily slower as they ascended. Frequently they were obliged to dismount and lead their horses for miles, and at these times Frank and Ravitzky were always together. It was intimacy without any feeling of attachment on either side, and yet they were drawn towards each other by some strange mysterious sympathy. Their conversation ranged over every topic, from the great events which menaced Europe to the smallest circumstances of personal history; and in all Frank found the cadet his superior. It was not alone that his views were higher, more disinterested, and less selfish, but his judgments were calmer and better weighed.
“You want to be a count of the Empire, and a grand cross of every order of Europe,” said Ravitzky one day to Frank, at the close of a rather warm discussion. “I want to see my country free, and live an humble soldier in the ranks.” This bold avowal seemed to separate them still more widely, and it was plain that each regarded the other with distrust and reserve. It was after some days of this distance that Frank endeavored to restore their intimacy by leading Ravitzky to speak of himself, and at last ventured to ask him how it came that he still remained a cadet, while others, in every way inferior to him, were made officers.
“I have refused promotion some half-dozen times over,” said the other. “As a kaiser-cadet, my time of service will expire in a few months hence; then I shall be free to leave the service. Were I to accept my grade as an officer, I should have to take an oath of fidelity to the Emperor, which I would not, and pledge myself to a course that I could not do.”
“Then they probably know the reasons for which you have declined promotion?”
“Assuredly they can guess them,” was the curt reply.