Читать книгу: «The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II», страница 9

Approaching Kate with a manner of admirably blended affection and respect, he kissed her hand, and then saluted her on either cheek. “Forgive me, my dear niece,” said be, “if I have not been earlier to pay my respects, and say welcome to Vienna; but my note will have told you that I was on duty yesterday with the Emperor.”

Kate blushed and bowed, for unhappily she had not read the note through. Frank’s presence had made her forget all but himself. With all the gallantry of his bygone school, the old Feld proceeded to compliment Kate on her beauty and grace, expressing in proper phrase his pride at the possession of such a relative.

“The Empress was the first to tell me of your arrival,” said he; “and nothing could be more gracious than the terms in which she spoke of you.”

With a thrill of pleasure Kate heard these words, and greedily drank in every syllable he uttered. Not alone her betrothal to the Prince, but all the circumstances of her future destiny, seemed to be matters of deep interest to the Court, and poor Kate listened with wonder to the Feld as he recounted the various speculations her marriage had given rise to. She little knew within what a narrow circle the sympathies of royalty are forced to revolve, and how glad they are of anything to relieve the tedious monotony of existence. One most important question had already arisen, since the Empress had expressed a wish that the young Princess should be presented to her; but Madame de Heidendorf refused her permission, on the ground that she had not yet been presented at the Court of the Czar. All the difficulties of the two cases, the arguments for either course, the old General deployed with an earnestness that if it at first amused, at last deeply interested Kate; the flattering sense of self-importance giving a consequence to trifles which, if told of another, she would have smiled at.

“I was desirous of gratifying the Empress before I saw you, my dear niece,” said he, taking her hand; “but you may guess how much greater is my anxiety now that I have learned to know you. It will be, indeed, a proud day for the old Field-Marshal when he shall present one of his own name and family, so gifted and so beautiful. A thorough Dalton!” added he, gazing on her with rapture.

“How glad am I, sir, to see that all the distinctions your great career has won have not effaced the memory of our old name and house.”

“I have but added to it another as noble as itself,” replied he, haughtily. “Others have given their energies to degrade our ancient lineage. It is to be your task and mine, Madame la Princesse, to replace us in our rightful station.”

Kate instinctively sought out Frank with her eyes, but could barely catch a glimpse of his figure within a recess of a window. More than once the poor cadet had meditated an escape; but as the door was on the opposite side of the room, he saw discovery would be inevitable. With a graceful courtesy the old Feld asked after Father and Nelly, expressing his wish to see and know them, in terms which plainly conveyed to Kate his utter ignorance of their station and habits.

“As a younger son myself, without the ties of fortune, I may be permitted to doubt how far the head of a distinguished house has a right, from any considerations of personal gratification, to reside away from his country, Madame. I must own that my nephew’s conduct in this respect has not met my approval. I have not felt free to tell him so, our intercourse being for so many years interrupted; but you will say as much for me. Let him know that the great names of a nation ought not to die out in people’s memories.”

“You are aware, sir,” said Kate, timidly, “that papa’s means are not as they once were; circumstances of economy first suggested his coming abroad.”

“A reason that always has appeared to me insufficient,” said the other, sternly. “He could have reduced his establishment at home – fewer hunters – less splendid banquets.”

“Hunters and banquets!” sighed Kate; “how little he knows of us!”

“Here I see nothing but the best fruits of his system,” said he, kissing her hand with gallantry; “no cost could be accounted too much that aided the attainment of such perfection. I am too old a courtier not to distinguish between mere native gracefulness and that more polished elegance which comes of refined intercourse. My niece is worthy to be a princess! But your brother – ”

“Oh! what of dear Frank?” cried she, eagerly.

“Simply this, Madame: habits of wasteful expenditure have unsuited him to the stern realities of a soldier’s life. With his fortune and his tastes, he should have sought service among those popinjays that English tailors make lancers or hussars of. He might have won the laurels that are gathered on Honnslow or St. James’s Park; he might have been distinguished in that barbaric warfare you call an Indian campaign; but here, in this empire, where soldiering means discipline, self-denial, hardship, endurance! – I was eight years a cadet, Madame, twelve a sous-lieutenant. I saw the decoration I should have received given to another. The Dienst Kreutz I had won was refused me, because I had not served twenty years; and yet, by accepting these and hundreds like them as the inevitable necessities of the service, I am what now you see me.”

“And if Frank will be but patient – ”

“He may be a corporal within a year, Madame,” said the Feld, gravely, and with the air of a man who had advanced a somewhat bold pledge.

“But he must be an officer within a week, sir,” said Kate, taking the General’s hand within her own. “I seldom ask favors, and as seldom are they refused me. The chivalry of Austria will surely suffer no attaint from one whose distinction it is to be your relative, and a Dalton. Nay, dear uncle, this is the first, the very first request I have ever made of you. It would not be meet for me to say, in your presence, what a guerdon is his name for his good conduct.”

“You are too sanguine, Madame. You do not know this boy.”

“Every thought of his heart I know, – every hope that sustains him. He himself has told me all his shortcomings.”

“His insubordination?”

“Yes.”

“Extravagance?”

“Yes.”

“His days of imprisonment?”

“Yes.”

“His arrests in irons?”

“All – everything; and what are they, save the boyish excesses of one who, carried away by high spirits, and buoyed up by the flattering sense of relationship to a great and distinguished name, has been led on to follies by the mere native warmth of temperament? It is easy to see how little he thought of himself, and how much of his uncle!”

The old General shook his head dubiously.

“There, dear uncle,” said she, pressing him into a seat before a table with writing-materials, “take that pen and write.”

“Write what, dear child?” said he, with a softness very different from his usual manner.

“I know nothing of the forms, nor the fitting phrases. All I want is that Frank should have his sword-knot.”

“You have learned the proper word, I see,” said he, smiling, while he balanced the pen doubtingly in his fingers “The Colonel of his regiment is an imperial prince.”

“So much the better, uncle. A Hapsburg will know how to reward a Dalton.”

“So, then, we begin thus,” said the old General, whose half-suppressed smile showed that he was merely jesting with her eagerness: “‘Imperial Highness, – the Cadet von Dalton, whose distinction it is to be the grand-nephew of a very old soldier, and the brother of a very young princess – ‘”

“Nay, surely, this will not do,” said Kate.

“‘A very young princess,” resumed the Feld, as he continued to write, “‘who, confiding in her own captivations and your Highnesses gallantry – ‘”

“This is but jesting with me, uncle, and I am serious,” said she, poutingly.

“And am not I serious, too, Madame?” cried he, laying down the pen. “If I ask promotion for a boy whose whole career has been one infraction of discipline, whose services are all inscribed in the Provost-Marshal’s return, is it not better that I should press his claims on the merits of others than dwell upon his own misconduct? My dear child,” said he, affectionately, “there are natures that cannot bear a too sudden prosperity, as there are individuals who cannot endure too sudden changes of climate. Our Dalton blood has a little of this same infirmity. Shall I tell you how I won my first step in the service? I was at Hohenkirchen when Morea began his celebrated retreat through the defiles of the Schwartzwald. The company in which I served as a simple corporal occupied a large farm-house, on an elevated plateau, above the road to Schweinfurt. We could see for miles along the valley, and our position was taken up to observe the movement of the enemy, and immediately report when his advanced guard came in sight. Our orders also were to hold the place as long as we were able, and delay as much as possible the enemy’s advance; in other words, if we could retard him by half a day, at the sacrifice of our party, our duty would be well done. These unpleasant situations arise now and then in war; but one comfort is, they seldom occur twice to the same man!”

“The captain who commanded us was an old officer, who had borne his slow promotion with many a heart-burning, and now resolved, come what might, to win his grade.

“Without waiting for the enemy, he took a patrol party, and set out to meet them. We never saw them again! Our lieutenant, alike impatient, determined on a reconnaissance, He had scarcely been gone half an hour, when a quick rattling of fire-arms told us that he was engaged with the enemy. One man alone returned to tell us that the rest had fallen, and that the enemy was approaching in force. The command now devolved on me. I had been four times passed over in promotion, distinct acts of service left unnoticed, and my claims as much ignored as if I was the veriest dolt. I will not pretend to say that I bore these disappointments without pain; but they taught me one lesson at least, ‘that duty is above all consideration of self.’ I well knew what was expected of us, and resolved, if possible, to fulfil it. I prepared at once for a stout resistance, – a hopeless, of course, but an obstinate one. Well, I will not imitate the tardiness of the duty by a similar prolixity. We held the farm for two hours, during which the roof was twice on fire from the enemy’s shells; and when, at length, they stormed the place, our defence was reduced to eight men, commanded by a corporal with two shot-wounds in his chest. We were made prisoners, and carried away to Strasburg, from whence I was exchanged under a cartel, and came back to my regiment as a lieutenant. Had I merely sought promotion, Madame, and followed the dictates of ambition and not of duty, I had perhaps fallen like the others. It was in the very forgetfulness of myself lay my prosperity and my reward.”

Kate’s eyes sought out Frank, resolved on one effort more for her object, but the boy was gone. He had contrived to slip away unseen during the conversation, and was now waiting at the corner of the street, impatient for the General’s departure, to return to his sister.

“I am to have the honor of dining in your company to-day,” said the Feld, rising to take leave. “Let me hope that my obduracy will not weaken your regard for one so proud of being your uncle.”

“No, uncle,” said she, “and chiefly since I do not believe in the obduracy, and have full faith in the affection.”

With every testimony of regard, they now took leave of each other, and the General retired as Kate betook herself to her own room.

She had scarcely left the apartment when the Archduke entered it. Madame de Heidendorf had told him that the Princess was there with her uncle, and he came expressly to see her. “Gone again!” exclaimed he; “am I never to see this mysterious beauty?” while he threw his eyes around the room. “What’s this addressed to myself here?” added he, as he caught sight of the paper which the Feld had half written. “To his Imperial Highness the Archduke Franz Albrecht, commanding the Eleventh Regiment of Infantry.” Rapidly glancing over the few lines, he at once caught their meaning, and detected the playful spirit in which they were conceived. “The fair Princess must not be disappointed in her opinion,” said he, laughingly, as he took up the pen and wrote: “Too happy to anticipate the unexpressed wish, the Archduke appoints Cadet von Dalton to a lieutenancy in the Hussars of the Wurtemberg Regiment,” and signing his well-known initials at the foot, he sealed and addressed the paper to the Princesse de Midchekoff. This done, he left the house, passing as he went a young cadet, whose military salute he scarcely noticed, nor knew the anxious heart for whose happiness he had just provided.

Young Frank stood respectfully at the salute as the Prince passed, and then bounded away to rejoin his sister. The drawing-room, however, was empty, and it was by mere chance that he saw the letter, on which the address was scarcely dry. Taking this with him, he hastened to her room. “A letter for you, Kate,” cried he, “and with a royal seal too!”

“Poor Frank!” said she, coming out to meet him. “That I should have such tidings for you! The Feld is obdurate and unyielding. He fancies that there is no road to honor save the old track he has trod himself.”

“I knew as much, Kate. Had I stayed longer in the room, I could not have refrained from bursting out to say, ‘Hold, sister dearest; not the best grade in all the service is worth so much solicitation. I ‘ll carry the musket while I must, and the day they make me an officer I ‘ll smash the sword across my knee and leave them!’”

Kate broke the seal of the packet without answering this passionate speech, and then, with a cry of joy, exclaimed, “Here it is, Frank! The Prince himself has given you the rank, and in the hussars too!”

“Let me see it,” cried the boy, – “let me see it.” And tearing the paper from her hand, he read it again and again. “I scarce know – I can scarce believe this real; but a Prince’s word – a royal promise, Kate, is surely sacred.”

“Of that there can be no doubt, Frank.”

“And I am a hussar and an officer,” said he, with a burst of delight “I’d not change with the kaiser this minute, Kate.”

“My dear, dear Frank!” said she, passing her arm around his neck.

“And to owe it all to you, my sweet Kate! If anything could enhance the pleasure of this piece of fortune, it is this fact. And such a regiment, Kate, – the Prince Paul’s. The turappé all one mass of gold, and the chako splendid, and their horses the true Hungarian breed, – the native horse crossed with the Arab! I feel already as if I were in the saddle, and careering wildly about. Oh, Kate, what glorious news!”

Again and again he embraced her in his ecstasy, and she, hiding her head upon his shoulder, tried to suppress the burst of emotions which filled her heart, for she thought at what a price she purchased the power she wielded.

They sat long with hands close locked beside each other, – neither speaking, – each travelling his own road of thought; and how wide apart they lay!

CHAPTER XII. VIENNA

We cannot afford to linger in Vienna, nor speak of the week – the most brilliant of all her life – Kate passed there. It was the first burst of that ambition which had so long taken possession of her, and she saw herself, at length, in all the pride of her station, and her beauty the object of a hundred flatteries.

Fêted at the Court, distinguished by the special attentions of the Princes, most courteously received in all the society of the most exclusive capital of Europe, the whirl of pleasure and excitement as effectually precluded thought as it defied reflection. Hitherto she had seen the world only as a dependant, or at least as something appertaining to Lady Hester, in whose caprices she was bound to share, making partnery, as it were, in all her likings and dislikings; but now she was become the centre around which all these attentions revolved, and her own will was the directing impulse of every action.

Of all the cities of the Continent, Vienna was most remarkable for almost instinctively adopting the tone of its Court in respect to a distinguished visitor. There was something like intuition in the way in which they guessed the feeling of royalty, and as quickly made it their own.

The restricted limits of the first society, of course, made this practicable, as well as the fact that all belonging to it were more or less engaged in the service of the Emperor. Kate Dalton was now to enjoy this flattery, and find herself, wherever she went, the special object of attention.

At the Hof Theatre, where they played her favorite operas; at the great reviews in the Prater, at the balls of the palace, or the déjeûners of Schonbrunn, she seemed the occasion of the fête, and to do her honor all appeared assembled. Carried away by the triumphant delight of pleasure so associated with power, she either forgot at times the price at which her greatness had been purchased, or was disposed to still the beatings of her heart by the thought, “My destiny is chosen; it is too late to look back.” To have grieved over her lot, besides, would have seemed an utter selfishness, seeing that she was the means of dispensing such happiness to all her family. Her poor father placed once more in comfort; Nelly free to follow the dictates of her charming fancy, without the alloying sense of toil; and dear Frank, in all the exuberant joy of his promotion, eternally reminding her that she was his patroness. The quick clatter of his charger’s hoofs in the courtyard, the clank of his sabre as he ran up the stairs, were but the glad prelude to his daily outpouring of gratitude. Ay, “to be sorry now, would be but selfish.”

Such was the philosophy in which she wrapped herself; and day after day the feeling gained strength within her. It was true there were moments when all the sophistry gave way, and her affections flowed full and strong in the deep channels of her heart. Then, indeed, she saw the emptiness of all this gorgeous parade, – how little it gave of real happiness, – how seldom it ever called forth one generous feeling, or one high desire, and she wished the fates had dealt otherwise with her. At times she almost longed for the humble home, in all its poverty, with nothing but Nelly’s bright smile and gentle voice to cheer its solitude! It may have been this conflict – for conflict it was – that gave to her demeanor a certain calm dignity, which, in the critical estimation of society, elevated her high above any charge of frivolity or capriciousness. She was a thought graver, perhaps, than her years; but the feeling imparted an indescribable grace to one whose beauty was the very type of brilliancy. After all, these were but passing clouds; nor did she ever suffer herself to recur to the past, save when wayward memories would obtrude uncalled for.

At last a letter came from Lady Hester; and although not a long one, it called up thoughts that all her endeavors could not efface from recollection. There were, once again, all the old familiar names with which she used to be so conversant.

Lady Hester, however, was much changed: all the capricious irritability of the fine lady had given place to a kind of importunate piety. She had grown “devote,” and her life a string of religious observances. After dwelling complacently on the self-imposed round of her mortifications and penances, she went on: —

“D’Esmonde has just returned, and delights me by saying that you are quite free from any contagion as to the errors of the Greek Church. Of course, outwardly, you must conform; even if Midchekoff did not insist, his countrymen would; but he says that St. Ursula is the sure resource in such cases, and mentions the instance of a nun who took lessons in Spanish from the Devil, and, by the aid of the blessed Ursula, was nothing the worse. “I told Jekyl, who left this on Friday, to send me an image of St. Ursula, that I might forward it to you; but the careless wretch has sent me a statuette of Fanny Elssler by mistake. He discovered his error, however, and has written me a most humble letter, mentioning, by the way, that he was doing a ‘Novena’ for penance, and danced the polka all the preceding night with a sharp peg in the sole of his foot. With all his oddity, there is a great deal to like in him. “I have only once heard from the Onslows; their conduct has been too shocking; they are not ruined at all, but got up the story, I verily believe, just to destroy my nerves. Sir S. is living in Ireland, at that place with the horrid name your father used to talk of, with Sydney; and George has gone to India, a major, I think, in some cavalry regiment. At Grounsell’s kind suggestion, I have been cut off with a miserable allowance of fifteen hundred a year; but even with this I am content. St. Brigitta, of Cleves, lived on hard peas, and never wore anything but an old sack for the last seventeen years of her life; and Célestine has got a charming pattern of a capote, à la Cistercine, which, when made of white cashmere, will be perfectly simple and very becoming. I wear my hair now always in bands, and very low on the face. D’Esmonde says I ‘m the image of the Madonna of Domenichino, which you may remember, I always preferred to Raphael’s. “Cardinal Bruschetti has been spending a few days here, and I cannot tell you the charm I have felt in his society, contrasted with the frivolous dissipation I have been used to. He is so suave, and so gentle, so persuasive, without importunity, and so conciliating withal. Not the least austerity about him; but at times actually gay! He quite approves of my having kept Fripponi as my cook. ‘A change of cuisine,’ said he, ‘involves a change of digestion, a change of temperament, and a moral change;’ alterations far too important to be incurred at once. This is so far pleasant as certainly the man is an admirable artist. His Eminence said yesterday that the salmi of ortolans was a dish fit for the Pope. We drive out, or row, every day, on the lake, and I shall be quite lonely when he leaves this. I am curious to know if you remember a bust of him in the Vatican. He was, and indeed is, a remarkably handsome man; and his leg has been modelled I can’t say how often. He asks me to whom I am writing, and begs you will remember him in your prayers, how touchingly simple, is it not? “I ventured last night on a bit of importunity, and asked his Eminence a favor. That poor dear Jekyl, you know, is miserably off. His family, all so wealthy, he says, only allow him a few hundreds a year; and with his generous habits and wastefulness this must be actual want. Well, I asked the Cardinal if there might not be some way of sending him out as a missionary – like St. Vincent de Paul. I ‘m certain he ‘d not like the dress nor the bare feet, but he ‘d be so happy with those charming Tonga islanders, who, such is their zeal, that they actually give four and five scalps for a wax image of the Virgin. His Eminence hinted that there might be difficulties, and he’d think of it I “Your Prince passed through here on Tuesday, on his way to Naples; he wants to see ‘La Giovina’ dance in that new ballet of ‘Paradiso.’ They say she is perfectly lovely. The Prince asked after you, and said something about its not being etiquette for him to write to you, or that you should write first, or, I really forget what; you know the slurring way he has of talking, and how he walks away before he has finished. He’s worse than ever, I think, or probably it is I that have less patience with him now since you are gone! “Jekyl told me – in strict confidence, remember – that M. did not stand well with his Court, and that there would be nothing wonderful in the Czar’s refusing his leave for the marriage. What you ought to do in that case I cannot conceive; a convent, I suppose, would be the only thing. After all, it might probably have been as well if you had taken poor George. The estate is still a good one, and he has some amiable points in his character, and he certainly loved you. I never told you the thousand confessions he made me, nor his entreaties for my intercession, but there is no harm now in letting you hear them. It is, however, impossible to say with whom one could live happily! George begged of me to send him every letter you wrote to me, and of course you can use the knowledge of the fact at your discretion. “Now, for two little commissions, my dear Kate, and I have done. I want you to get me a case of Tokay from the Teleki estate – mind, not Pain’s, which, his Eminence says, wants the oily flavor. Some of the archdukes will manage this for you. I ‘m certain your long eyelashes have got further than this already. The second is to send me a haunch of Bohemian venison, – Schwartenschild’s, if possible. The Cardinal says that fat is become as scarce as true piety, and that a well- fed buck is as rare as a good Christian! “Are they wearing their corsages pointed at the back? – not that I care, dearest, for I am above such vanities, but Célestine wishes to know. When you receive the St. Ursula, keep her in your own room, and with her face to the west; and so good-by, and, with many prayers, believe me, “Affectionately yours, “THEODOSIA, “Late Hester Onslow. “Could you, by any chance, send me a good miniature of yourself? – perhaps you guess for what purpose. Haselquist’s oil picture is too large for what I want; and, besides, is really not like you. Even with all its imperfections his Eminence sits looking at it for hours of an evening, and says he can scarcely fancy anything lovelier. I do not ask after Madame de H., for I hate the woman. His Eminence has told me such things of her! But of course you can only make the best of it for the present, and get on as well as you can. “D’Esmonde tells me that Frank is a fine boy, and very good- looking, but fearfully dissipated, but I suppose the service is like the Life Guards with us – and what can one expect? À propos to this, Norwood has written to me twice some inexplicable nonsense about you, which I have not replied to. What does he mean by ‘treating a flirt like a flounce’ Jekyl says that the police have stopped his passport, or he should have been after you to Vienna. This is quite unintelligible to me, and I don’t know why I repeat it.”

Never did a frivolous letter give more serious thought, nor bring gloomier reflections, than did this epistle to Kate Dalton. Her mind dwelt far less on the paragraph which concerned her own future than on that which spoke of George, – his devoted affection and his enduring sorrow! And so it was true that he loved her! He had even confided the avowal to another, and asked for aid and counsel. Why had he then concealed it from herself? Was the fault hers? Had her own conduct been the reason? Had her encouragement of any other estranged him, or was the teaching of the society in which she moved the reason? Poor fellow! how unfairly had she treated him, – even to that very last incident of their last meeting! – and now they were to meet no more! No, death itself could not more effectually separate them than did space and destiny. Even this she felt to be better, far better, than the chances of renewed intimacy in the world. Lady Hester had not told her why she had never divulged her secret; still less to what end she revealed it now, when the knowledge must be only misery. The mention of Norwood, and the vague half-threat connected with his name, gave her but little uneasiness, since her mind had but space for one absorbing thought, – George loved her! There was the sum of every reflection; and all the world around her, in its splendor or its brilliancy, the tortuous paths of political intrigue, the quiet byways of home-affection, the present and the future, were all as nothing when weighed against this one thought.

If her first impression had been to blame Lady Hester for revealing the secret, her second was to thank her with her whole heart. She remembered D’Esmonde, too, and the reasonings by which he accompanied the delivery of the letter; and she felt that this consciousness was a blessing of which no vicissitude could rob her, – that come what might of disappointment or sorrow in life, here, at least, in her heart of hearts, was one hoarded treasure to compensate for all. If there were but one to whom she could confide her secret, with whom she could talk over her sorrow, she thought that she would be contented. To Nelly she dared not; to Frank she could not speak of it; what, then, of Nina? Alas! it was no longer a secret to her! Nina had seen the picture, and although nothing in her manner betrayed the slightest consciousness, Kate knew her too well not to feel herself in her power.

Nina’s demeanor, however, exhibited nothing of insolent triumph; on the contrary, her manner was gentle, even to submissiveness, and something almost affectionate seemed to mingle with the feeling in which she fulfilled her duties. Kate remarked this, and only needed the courage to take advantage of it At first the very idea of Nina’s consciousness was torture; but day by day this terror grew weaker, till at last she actually wished that the moment of explanation was over, and that she could pour out all her griefs before her. “She may have loved unhappily, herself; and if so, will pity me. In any case, a frank avowal on my part will show that I knew nothing of his heart, and but little of my own, till ‘too late.’ We are never to meet again,” and so-and-so; in fact, with many a casuistry, she satisfied herself that mere memory could never be a sin, – that there could be nothing very wrong in looking back as often as the future seemed lowering and gloomy. It is hard to say if there might not have been some leaven of “pique” in these reasonings. The Prince, according to Lady Hester, if he had not entirely forgotten, was already indifferent about her. Some uncertainty of ceremonial prevented his writing or hearing from her; and at this very moment he was following out the ordinary life of dissipation which he led before. Why care for him, – why even endeavor to nourish an affection that must be blighted in the end? Besides, her marriage was never one of inclination; Lady Hester had been most frank in explaining the Prince’s appreciation of it As to her own reasons for the step, she knew them too well.