In bitterness Christine said to herself: "A few weeks since this thought would have filled me with delight. Why does it not now?"
Silently they drove to the parade-ground. At the sally-port of the distant barracks bayonets were gleaming. There was a burst of martial music, then each class at the Academy—four companies—came out upon the grassy plain upon the double-quick. Their motions were light and swift, and yet so accurately timed that each company seemed one perfect piece of mechanism. A cadet stood at a certain point with a small color flying. Abreast of this their advance was checked as suddenly as if they had been turned to stone, and the entire corps was in line. Then followed a series of skilful manoeuvres, in which Christine was much interested, and her old eager manner returned.
"I like the army," she exclaimed; "the precision and inflexible routine would just suit me. I wish there was war, and I a man, that I might enter into the glorious excitements."
Luxurious Mr. Ludolph had no tastes in that direction, and, shrugging his shoulders, said: "How about the hardships, wounds, and chances of an obscure death? These are the rule in a campaign; the glorious excitements the exceptions."
"I did not think of those," she said, shrinking against the cushions.
"Everything seems to have so many miserable drawbacks!"
The pageantry over, the driver turned and drove northward through the most superb scenery.
"Where are we going?" asked Christine.
"To the cemetery," was the reply.
"No, no! not there!" she exclaimed, nervously.
"Nonsense! Why not?" remonstrated her father.