"Has he gone already?" asked Countess Clam Gallas.
"He has started," said the Baron, "and he is now on the road that leads to the Capitol or to the Tarpeian rock. He expressed that in a different way, certainly, but not less excellently."
"Tell us how he expressed it," cried Countess Clam Gallas; "it was no doubt one of those strong speeches which no one but himself would ever think of."
"'In six weeks,' said he thoughtfully, 'I shall either be on a pedestal, or not even a dog will snarl at me!'"
They all laughed aloud.
"Excellent!" cried Countess Clam Gallas; "and does he believe in the 'pedestal?'"
"Not very much," replied the baron; "he does not trust the spirit and the order of the army, and he does not trust himself."
"He may judge of himself as he will," cried Count Clam Gallas vehemently; "but the army he has no right to mistrust. The army is excellent, and its order exemplary; though truly, if General Benedek continues to treat the officers, and especially the noble officers, as he has commenced, and always to take the part of the common soldiers and the sub-officers, order will not last long."
And the count with an angry movement pushed away the chair on which he had leant, and paced up and down the room.
"It is certainly not my place," after a few moments, he said somewhat more calmly, "to call in question his majesty's choice of commanding officers, but I cannot feel great confidence in this Benedek and his method. The feelings that dwell in the hearts of the old Austrian nobility he cannot understand, and his so-called liberal principles destroy discipline. It may be very well in an army like the Prussian, where every one is a soldier--I understand nothing about that; but for us it will not answer; still less will it answer to attempt novelties which will place the army in opposition to their officers on the eve of a great war."