“Yes, papa; remember that poor Frank is still in the ranks.”
“Well, God give me patience with you all!” burst out the old man, in a torrent of passion. “Does he know that he's a Dalton?—does he feel blood in his veins? Why the blazes must he seek out a thieving blaguard with a pack full of damaged cambric to make a friend of? Is this the way the family's getting up in the world?”
“Adolf Brawer, by name,” read on Nelly, in a low and subdued
voice. “You will be surprised when I tell you that I owe all
his kindness and good-nature to you,—yes, to your own dear
self. On his way through the Tyrol he had bought two wooden
statuettes,—one a young soldier asleep beside a well; the
other a girl leaning from a window to hear the bugles of a
departing regiment Can you guess whose they were? And when
he came to know that I was the brother of the little N. D.
that was sculptured, half hid in a corner, and that I was
the original of the tired, wayworn recruit on the roadside,
I thought he would have cried with enthusiasm.”
“Didn't I often say it?” broke in Dalton, as, wringing his hands in despair, he paced the room with hasty strides. “Did n't I warn you a thousand times about them blasted images, and tell you that, sooner or later, it would get about who made them? Didn't I caution you about the disgrace you 'd bring on us? The fear of this was over me this many a day. I had it like a dream on my mind, and I used to say to myself, 'It will all come out yet.'” #
Nelly covered her face with her apron as these bitter words were spoken; but not a syllable, nor a sigh, did she reply to them; still, the frail garment shook with an emotion that showed how intensely she suffered.
“A Virgin sold here, an Angel Gabriel there; now it was Hamlet; another time Gotz with the iron hand. All the balderdash that ever came into your head scattered over the world to bring shame on us! And then to think of Kate!”
“Yes, dearest father, do think of her,” cried Nelly, passionately. “She is, indeed, an honor and a credit to you.”
“And so might you have been, too, Nelly,” rejoined he, half sorry for his burst of anger. “I 'm sure I never made any difference between you. I treated you all alike, God knows.” And truly, if an indiscriminating selfishness could plead for him, the apology was admirable.
“Yes, papa, but Nature was less generous,” said Nelly, smiling through her tears; and she again turned to the letter before her. As if fearful to revive the unhappy discussion, she passed rapidly over Frank's account of his friend's ecstasy; nor did she read aloud till she came to the boy's narrative of his own fortunes.
“You ask me about Count Stephen, and the answer is a short
one. I have seen him only once. Our battalion, which was
stationed at Laybach, only arrived in Vienna about three
weeks ago, but feeling it a duty to wait on our relative, I
obtained leave one evening to go and pay my respects. Adolf,
who knew of my connection with the Field-Marshal, had lent
me two hundred florins; and this, too, I was anxious to pay
off,—another reason for this visit.
“Well, I dressed myself in my best cadet cloth, and silk
sword-knot,
Nelly,—none of your 'commissaire' toggery, but all fine and
smart-looking, as a gentleman-cadet ought to be,—and then
calling a fiacre, I ordered the man to drive to the
'Koertnor Thor,' to the Field-Marshal von Auersberg*s
quarters. I 'm not sure if I did n*t say to my uncle's. Away
we went gayly, and soon drew up in an old-fashioned
courtyard, from which a great stair led up four stories
high, at the top of which the 'Feld'—so they called him—
resided. This was somewhat of a come-down to my high-flown
expectations, but nothing to what I felt as the door was
opened by an old Jager with one leg, instead of, as I looked
for, a lackey in a grand livery.
“'What is 't cadet?' said he, in a tone of the coolest
familiarity.
“'The Field-Marshal von Auersberg lives here?' said I.
“He nodded.
“'I wish to see him.'
“He shook his head gravely, and scanning me from head to
foot, said, 'Not at this hour, cadet,——not at this hour.'
“'Let him see this card,' said I, giving one with my name.
'I 'm certain he 'll receive me.'
“I believe if I had presented a pistol at him, the old
fellow would have been less startled, as he exclaimed, 'A
cadet with a visiting-card! This would serve you little with
the Feld, younker,' cried he, handing it back to me; 'he
likes to see a soldier a soldier.'
“'Tell him my name, then,' said I, angrily; 'say that his
grand-nephew, Frank Dalton, has been standing at his door in
full parley with a servant for ten minutes.'
“The announcement created little of the astonishment I
calculated on, and the old soldier merely replied, 'All
under field-officer's rank come before eight of a morning.
you cannot expect to have the privilege of an archduke.' He
was about to close the door in my face as he spoke, but I
placed my shoulder against it and forced it back, thus
securing an entrance within the forbidden precincts.
“'Right about, quick march!' cried he, pointing to the
door, while his whole frame trembled with passion.
“'Not till you have delivered my message,' said I, calmly.
“'Then Bey'm Blitzen I will deliver it, and see how you 'll
like it,' cried he, as he stumped away down a passage and
entered a room at the end of it. I could soon hear the sound
of voices, and for the moment I was almost determined to
beat a retreat, when suddenly the old Jager came out and
beckoned me forward. There was a grin of most diabolical
delight on the old fellow's features as I passed into the
room and closed the door behind me.
“As well as I could see in the imperfect light, for it was
after sunset, the apartment was large and low-ceilinged,
with bookshelves round the walls, and stands for weapons and
military equipments here and there through it. At the stove,
and busily engaged in watching a coffee-pot, sat the Feld
himself, a loose gray overcoat covering his figure, and
concealing all of him but two immense jackboots that peeped
out beneath. He wore a Mütze, a kind of Hungarian cap, and a
long pipe depended from his mouth, the bowl resting on the
carpet. The most conspicuous feature of all was, however,
his enormous moustache, which, white as snow, touched his
collar-bone at either side.
“He never spoke a word as I entered, but stared at me
steadfastly and sternly for full three or four minutes. Half
abashed by this scrutiny, and indignant besides at the
reception, I was about to—