“We are told that large sums have found their way into Austria in shape of secret service,” said D'Esmonde, “and with good result too.”
“The very worst of bad policy,” broke in Norwood. “Pay your friends and thrash your enemies. Deserters are bad allies at the best, but are utterly worthless if they must be paid for desertion. Let them go over like those Hungarian fellows,—a whole regiment at a time, and bring both courage and discipline to our ranks! but your rabble of student sympathizers are good for nothing.”
“Success has not made you sanguine, my Lord,” said Morlache, smiling.
“I have little to be sanguine about,” replied he, roughly. “They have not spoiled me with good fortune; and even on this very mission that I have come now, you 'll see it is that Russian fellow will receive all the reward; and if there be a decoration conferred, it is he, not I, will obtain it.”
“And do you care for such baubles, my Lord?” asked D'Esmonde, in affected surprise.
“We soldiers like these vanities as women do a new shawl, or your priests admire a smart new vestment, in which I have seen a fellow strut as proudly as any coxcomb in the ballet when he had completed his pirouette. As for myself,” continued he, proudly, “I hold these stars and crosses cheaply enough. I 'd mortgage my 'San Giuseppe' to-morrow if Morlache would give me twenty Naps, on it.”
“The day of richer rewards is not distant, my Lord,” said D'Esmonde. “Lombardy will be our own ere the autumn closes, and then—and then—”
“And then we 'll cut each other's throats for the booty, you were going to say,” burst in Norwood; “but I 'm not one of those who think so, Abbé. My notion is that Austria is making a waiting race, and quietly leaving dissension to do amongst us what the snow did for the French at Moscow.”
D'Esmonde's cheek grew pale at this shrewd surmise; but he quickly said, ——
“You mistake them, my Lord. The interests at stake are too heavy for such a critical policy; Austria dare not risk so hazardous a game.”