The Princess Amelia was the centre of a group of ladies. She was a charming princess, but at times her face bore an expression of deep melancholy; and all knew that she had never ceased to mourn the fate of the man she would have chosen, Baron Trench, who had been thrown into prison by her angry father, for his insolence in aspiring to his daughter's hand.
"You must be glad that your hard work is over, Drummond," Lindsay said, as they stood together watching the scene.
"I am glad that the drill is over," Fergus replied, "but I should have liked my work with the professor to have gone on for another six months."
"Ah, well! You will have opportunities to take it up again, when we return, after thrashing the Austrians."
"How long will that be, Lindsay?"
The latter shrugged his shoulders.
"Six months or six years; who can tell?" he said. "If it be true that Russia and France, to say nothing of Saxony, are with her, it is more likely to be years than months, and we may both come out colonels by the time it is over."
"That is, if we come out at all," Fergus said, with a smile at the other's confidence.
"Oh! Of course, there is that contingency, but it is one never worth reckoning with. At any rate, it is pretty certain that, if we do fall, it will be with odds against us; but of course, as aides-de-camp our chance is a good deal better than that of regimental officers.
"At any rate, you have had good preparation for the campaign, for your work will be child's play in comparison to what you have been going through. How you stood it, I cannot make out. I worked pretty hard when I first arrived; but the drill for the first six months was tremendous, and I used to be glad to crawl into bed, as soon as I had had my supper.