Читать книгу The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II - Lever Charles James - Страница 7

The gossiping world of Vienna had a new subject for speculation and interest, as a guard of honor was seen standing at a large palace near the “Hoff;” and the only information to explain the mystery was that some great diplomatist had arrived the evening before, and Heaven knew what wonderful events were in his charge and keeping. A gigantic “Chasseur,” in green and gold, who lounged about the portal, followed by a great dog, – a “fanghund,” whose silver collar was embossed with many a quartering, – had engaged the attention of a very considerable crowd, which opened from time to time to permit the passage of some royal or princely equipage. As they thus fell back, a chance look would be directed upwards to the windows of the first floor, and there, passingly, they caught glimpses of one whose beauty soon formed the theme of every tongue. This was Kate Dalton, who, now rested from the fatigue of her journey, and dressed in the most becoming fashion, walked up and down a splendid saloon, watching to catch every sound, or gazing earnestly from the window to catch any sight that might betoken her brother’s coming. At Madame de Heidendorf’s suggestion she had written a few lines that morning early to the Field-Marshal von Dalton, entreating, as a great favor, that he would procure leave for Frank to come to her, and pass as much of his time as possible with her during her stay in Vienna. The note, brief as it was, cost her some trouble; she felt that much explanation might be necessary to state her present position, – even who she was, – and yet this was a subject she had no heart to enter into. Some expressions of affectionate interest towards himself would also have been fitting, but she could not find time for them. Frank, and Frank alone, was in her thoughts, and she left everything to the old General’s ingenuity, as she concluded her note by subscribing herself, “Your affectionate niece, Kate Dal ton, Affianced Princesse de Midchekoff.”

It was the first time that she had written the words, – the first time that she had ever impressed that massive seal of many quarterings, so royal-looking as it seemed. It was, also, the first time she had ever given an order to one of her servants; and the obsequious bows of the groom of the chamber, as he withdrew, were all separate and distinct sensations, – low, but clear knockings of vanity at her heart, to which every object around contributed its aid. The apartment was splendid; not in that gorgeous taste of modern decoration of which she had seen so much already, but in a more stately fashion, recalling the grandeur of a past age, and exhibiting traces of a long line of princely occupants. The very portraits along the walls had a proud and haughty bearing, and the massive chairs glittered in all the blaze of heraldry. If she looked out, it was the towers of the “Hoff Bourg” – the Home of the Hapsburgs – met her eye. If she listened, it was the clank of a soldier’s salute broke the stillness; while the dull roll of wheels beneath the arched gateway told of the tide of visitors who came to pay their homage.

If Kate’s heart had been less bound up with anxiety to see her brother, the scene beneath her window would have afforded her some interest, as equipage after equipage succeeded, – now the quiet splendor of a court chariot, now the more glaring magnificence of a cardinal’s carriage. Here came the lumbering old vehicle of an archhishop, the reverential salute of the crowd indicating the rank of its occupant Then the quick “present arms” of the sentry told of some general officer; while, at intervals, the “turn out” of the whole guard denoted the arrival of a royal prince. Ambassadors and ministers, chamberlains and chancellors, the dignitaries of the realm, the “Hautes Charges” of the Court, – all came in crowds to present their respects to the Gräfin, for by this brief designation was she known from one end of Europe to the other.

Madame de Heidendorf held a levée, and none would absent themselves from so interesting an occasion.

It was the eve of a wonderful moment in Europe – it was the little lull that preceded the most terrific storm that ever overturned thrones and scattered dynasties – as these illustrious personages were met together, to interchange compliments, to lisp soft phrases of flattery, and discuss the high claims of some aspirant for a ribbon or a cross, a “Red Eagle,” or a “Black” one. A few, more far-sighted than the rest, saw the cloud, not bigger than a man’s hand, in the distance. A few could hear the low rumblings that denoted the brooding hurricane; but even they thought “the thing would last their time.” And thus, with many a pleasant jest, they chatted over the events of the hour, praised the wisdom of kings, and laughed to scorn those vulgar teachers whose democratic theories were just beginning to be whispered about. Some were young, buoyant, and hopeful, ready to shed the last drop for the principles they professed; others were old gray-headed men, tried servants of Monarchy for half a century. But all were like-minded, and self-gratulation and compliment was the order of the day. Leaving them thus to such pleasant converse, where the clank of jewelled swords or the tap of a diamond snuff-box formed the meet accompaniments of the themes, we turn once more to her in whose fate we are more deeply interested.

Twice had she rung the bell to ask if the messenger had not returned. At last he came; but there was “no answer to her note.” Her impatience became extreme. She ordered the servant who carried the note to appear before her; questioned him closely as to whether he had taken it, and the reply he had received. A soldier had said, “Gut!” and shut the door. Poor Kate! It was her first lesson in “soldier laconics,” and to say truly, she did not take it well. The “Princesse de Midchekoff” might have been treated with more deference. She was passing a mirror as the thought struck her, and her mien and air gave support to the belief; nor could she restrain the sense of admiration, half tinged with shame, her own beauty evoked.

“There is a soldier here, Madame,” said a servant, “who has a letter he will not deliver except into your own hands.”

“Admit him – at once,” said she, impatiently; and as she spoke the soldier stepped forward, and drawing himself up, carried his hand to the salute, while, presenting a letter, he said, “From the Field-Marshal von Auersberg.”

Kate scarcely looked at the bearer, but hastily tore open the square-shaped epistle.

“You need not wait,” said she to the servant; and then turning to the letter, read, —

“‘Madame la Princesse and beloved Niece, – It was with – to me of late years – a rare satisfaction that I read the not the less affectionate that they were polite lines you vouchsafed to inscribe to me, an old and useless but not forgotten servant of an Imperial master. Immediately on perusing the aforesaid so-called note, I despatched my adjutant to the head-quarters of the Franz Carl, to obtain – no service rules to the contrary forbidding, nor any default’s punition in any wise preventing – a day’s furlough for the Cadet von Dalton – ”

“What regiment is yours?” said Kate, hastily, to the soldier.

“Franz Carl Infanterie, Highness,” said the youth, respectfully, using the title he had heard assumed by the servant.

“Do you know many of your comrades, – among the cadets, I mean?”

“There are but seven in the battalion, Highness, and I know them all.”

“Is Von Dalton an acquaintance of yours?”

“I am Von Dalton, Highness,” said the youth, while a flush of surprise and pleasure lighted up his handsome features.

“Frank! Frank!” cried she, springing towards him with open arms; and ere he could recognize her, clasping him round the neck.

“Is this real? Is this a dream? Are you my own sister Kate?” cried the boy, almost choked with emotion. “And how are you here? and how thus?” and he touched the robe of costly velvet as he spoke.

“You shall know all, dear, dear Frank. You shall hear everything when the joy of this meeting will let me speak.”

“They call you Highness; and how handsome you’ve grown!”

“Have I, Frank?” said she, pressing him down to a seat beside her, while, with hands interclasped, they sat gazing on each other.

“I am only beginning to remember you,” said he, slowly. “You never used to wear your hair in long ringlets thus. Even your figure is changed; you are taller, Kate.”

“It is the mere difference of dress, Frank,” said she, blushing with conscious pride.

“No, no; you are quite changed. Even as I sit here beside you, I feel I know not what of shame at my daring to be so near – ”

“So great a lady, you would say, dear Frank,” said she, laughing. “Poor boy, if you knew – ” She stopped, and then, throwing her arms around his neck, went on rapidly: “But, my own dear brother, tell me of yourself: are you happy; do you like the service; are they kind to you; is Uncle Stephen as we hoped he should be?”

“My story is soon told, Kate,” said he; “I am where I was the day I entered the army. I should have been made a corporal – ”

“A corporal!” cried Kate, laughing.

“A good thing it is, too,” said the youth. “No guards to mount, no fatigue duty, neither night patrol nor watch, and four kreutzers extra pay.”

“Poor dear boy!” cried she, kissing his forehead, while she gazed on him with a compassionate affection that spoke a whole world of emotion.

“But tell me of yourself, Kate. Why do they call you the Princess?”

“Because I am married, Frank, – that is, I am betrothed, and will soon be married.”

“And when did this occur? Tell me everything,” cried he, impatiently.

“You shall know all, dearest Frank. Yoo have heard how Lady Hester Onslow carried me away with her to Italy. Nelly has told you how we were living in Florence, – in what splendor and festivity; our palace frequented by all the great and distinguished of every country, – French and German, and Spanish and Russian.”

“I hate the Russians; but go on,” said the boy, hastily.

“But why hate the Russians, Frank?” asked she, reddening as she spoke.

“They are false-hearted and treacherous. See how they have driven the Circassians into a war, to massacre them; look how they are goading on the Poles to insurrection. Ay, they say that they have emissaries at this moment in Hungary on the same errand. I detest them.”

“This may be their state policy, Frank; but individually – ”

“They are no better; Walstein knows them well.”

“And who is Walstein, Frank?”

“The finest fellow in the service; the one I would have wished you married to, Kate, above all the world. Think of a colonel of hussars at eight-and-twenty, so handsome, so brave, and such a rider. You shall see him, Kate!”

“But it’s too late, Frank,” said she, laughing; “You forget it’s too late!”

“Ah! so it is,” sighed the boy, seriously. “I often feared this,” muttered he, after a pause. “Nelly’s letters told me as much, and I said to myself, ‘It will be too late.’”

“Then Nelly has told you all, perhaps?” said she.

“Not everything, nor, indeed, anything at all very distinctly. I could only make out what seemed to be her own impressions, for they appeared mere surmises.”

“And of what sort were they?” asked Kate, curiously.

“Just what you would suspect from her. Everlasting fears about temptations and trials, and so forth, continually praying that your heart might resist all the flatteries about you. The old story about humility. I thought to myself, ‘If the lesson be not more needful to Kate than to me, she runs no great risk, after all!’ for I was also warned about the seductions of the world! a poor cadet, with a few kreutzers a day, told not to be a Sybarite! Returning wet through from a five hours’ patrol, to burnish accoutrements in a cold, damp barrack, and then exhorted against the contamination of low society, when all around me were cursing the hardships they lived in, and execrating the slavery of the service!”

“Our dearest Nelly knows so little of the world,” said Kate, as she threw a passing glance at herself in the mirror, and arranged the fall of a deep fringe of gold lace which was fastened in her hair.

“She knows nothing of it,” said the boy, adjusting his sword-knot. “She thought our hussars wore white dolmans, and carried straight swords like the cuirassiers.”

“And the dear, simple creature asked me, in one of her letters, if I ever wore wild-flowers in my hair now, as I used to do long ago,” said Kate, stealing another glance at the glass. “Flowers are pretty things in the head when rubies make the pinks, and the dewdrops are all diamonds.”

Frank looked at her as she said this, and for the first time saw the proud elation her features assumed when excited by a theme of vanity.

“You are greatly changed, dearest Kate,” said he, thoughtfully.

“Is it for the worse, Frank?” said she, half coquettishly.

“Oh! as to beauty, you are a thousand times handsomer,” cried the boy, with enthusiasm. “I know not how, but every expression seems heightened, every feature more elevated; your air and gesture, your very voice, that once I thought was music itself, is far sweeter and softer.”

“What a flatterer!” said she, patting his cheek.

“But then, Kate,” said he, more gravely, “have these fascinations cost nothing? Is your heart as simple? Are your affections as pure? Ah! you sigh – and what a heavy sigh, too! Poor, poor Kate!”

And she laid her head upon his shoulder, while the heaving swell of her bosom told what sorrow the moment was costing her.

“Nelly, then, told you of my betrothal?” whispered she, in a weak, faint voice.

“No; I knew nothing of that. She told me all about the life you were leading; the great people with whom you were intimate; and bit by bit, a hint, some little allusion, would creep out as to the state of your heart. Perhaps she never meant it, or did not know it; but I remarked, in reading her letters over and over, – they were the solace of many a weary hour, – that one name recurred so often in connection with yours, you must have frequently referred to him yourself, for in each extract from your letters I saw the name.”

“This was strange. It must have been through inadvertence,” said she, musingly. “I thought I had scarcely spoken of him.”

“See how your hand told truth, even against your consciousness,” said he, smiling.

Kate made no reply, but sat deep in thought.

“And is he here? When shall I see him?” asked Frank, impatiently.

“No, Frank. He is in Italy; he was detained there by business of importance. Besides, it is not etiquette that we should travel together. When the Emperor’s permission has been obtained – ”

“What Emperor?” asked Frank, in astonishment.

“Our Emperor – the Czar.”

“What have you, an English girl born, to do with the Czar?”

“The Prince, my future husband, is his subject.”

“Why, there is no end to this mystification,” cried the boy, impatiently. “How can an English soldier be a Russian Prince?”

“I don’t understand you, Frank. Prince Midchekoff is a Russian by birth.”

“So that you are married to a Russian,” said he, in a voice of deep emotion, “and all this time I have been fancying my brother-in-law an Englishman. I thought it was this same George – George Onslow.”

A heavy, dull sound startled him as he said this. It was Kate, who had fallen back, fainting, on the sofa. It was long before, with all Frank’s efforts at restoration, she came to herself; and even when consciousness returned, tears flowed from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks copiously, as she lay speechless and motionless.

“My own poor Kate, my poor, dear sister!” were all that Frank could say, as he held her cold, clammy hand within his own; and, with an almost breaking heart, gazed on her pale features. It was so like death! “And might not death be better?” thought he, as he travelled over in his mind the story, of whose secret he was now possessed. How differently did he judge all Nelly’s counsels now! In what a changed spirit did he think of that wisdom which, but a few minutes back, he had sneered at! “And so it is,” muttered he. “If we who are born to humble fortunes would cherish ambition, we must pay for it with our hearts’ blood. Nelly was right; she often said so. Over and over again did she tell me, ‘goodness is the only safe road to greatness.’ Oh that one so beautiful as this should have missed the path!” And, sobbing violently, he kissed her hand, and watered it with his tears.

“Frank, you are with me, – you ‘ll not leave me,” said she, faintly, as she opened her eyes and stared in bewilderment around her. “I remember everything now – everything,” said she, with an emphasis on the last word. “This is Vienna: I recollect all. Ring that bell, Frank: let Nina come to me, but don’t go away; be sure not to go.”

Nina soon made her appearance, and with a look of half surprise, half admiration at the handsome soldier, assisted Kate to arise.

“I’ll be back presently, Frank,” said she, with a faint smile, and left the room. And the youth, overcome by emotion, sat down and buried his face in his hands.