The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II. Lever Charles James
breathings, like sleep; but a heavy sigh told that the moments were those of waking sorrow. Cautiously turning the handle of the door, without noise, she opened it and passed in. The room was shrouded in a dim half-light, and it was not till after the lapse of some seconds that Nina could distinguish the form of her young mistress, as, with her head buried in her hands, she sat before a table on which lay an open letter.
So absorbed was Kate in grief that she heard nothing, and Nina approached her, slowly, till at last she stood directly behind her, fixedly regarding the heaving figure, the dishevelled hair, and the trembling hands that seemed to clutch with eagerness some object within their grasp. Kate suddenly started, and pushing back her hair from her eyes, seemed as if trying to collect her wandering thoughts. Then, unclasping a case, she placed a miniature before her, and contemplated it attentively. Nina bent over her till she almost touched her in her eagerness. Had any one been there to have seen her features at the moment, they would have perceived the traits of intense and varied passion, surprise, rage, and jealousy, all struggling for the mastery. Her dark skin grew almost livid, and her black eyes glowed with anger; while, with a force like convulsion, she pressed her hands to her heart, as if to calm its beatings. A sea of stormy passions was warring within her, and in her changeful expression might be seen the conflict of her resolves. At last, she appeared to have decided; for with noiseless steps she gradually retreated toward the door, her eyes all the while steadily fixed on her mistress.
It seemed to require no slight effort to repress the torrent of rage within her; for even at the door she stood irresolute for a moment, and then, softly opening it, withdrew. Once outside, her pent-up passions found vent, and she sobbed violently. Her mood was, however, more of anger than of sorrow, and there was an air of almost insolent pride in the way she now knocked, and then, without waiting for reply, entered the room.
“Madame de Heidendorf requests that the Princess will appear in the drawing-room,” said she, abruptly, and confronting Kate’s look of confusion with a steadfast stare.
“Say that I am indisposed, Nina, – that I feel tired and unwell,” said Kate, timidly.
“There is an Archduke, Madame.”
“What care I for an Archduke, Nina?” said Kate, trying to smile away the awkwardness of her own disturbed manner.
“I have always believed that great folk liked each other,” said Nina, sarcastically.
“Then I must lack one element of that condition, Nina,” said Kate, good-humoredly; “but pray make my excuses, – say anything you like so that I may be left in quiet.”
“How delightful Madame’s reveries must be, when she attaches such value to them!”
“Can you doubt it, Nina?” replied Kate, with a forced gayety. “A betrothed bride ought to be happy; you are always telling me so. I hear of nothing from morn till night but of rich caskets of gems and jewels; you seem to think that diamonds would throw a lustre over any gloom.”
“And would they not?” cried Nina, passionately “Has not the brow nobler and higher thoughts when encircled by a coronet like this? Does not the heart beat with greater transport beneath gems like these?” And she opened case after case of sparkling jewels as she spoke, and spread them before Kate, on the table.
“And yet I have learned to look on them calmly,” said Kate, with an expression of proud indifference.
“Does not that dazzle you?” said Nina, holding up a cross of rose diamonds.
“No!” said Kate, shaking her head.
“Nor that?” cried Nina, displaying a gorgeous necklace.
“Nor even that, Nina.”
“Is Madame’s heart so steeled against womanly vanities,” said Nina, quickly, while she threw masses of costly articles before her, “that not one throb, not one flush of pleasure, is called up at sight of these?”
“You see, Nina, that I can look on them calmly.”
“Then this, perchance, may move you!” cried Nina; and with a bound she sprang to the table at which Kate was seated, and, dashing the handkerchief away, seized the miniature, and held it up.
Kate uttered a shrill cry and fell back fainting. Nina gazed at her for a second or so with a look of haughty disdain, and sprinkling the pale features with a few drops of water, she turned away. With calm composure she replaced each precious gem within its case, laid the miniature once more beneath the handkerchief, and then left the room.
“Your Princess will not honor us, it seems, with her company,” said the Archduke, half in pique, as the messenger returned with Kate’s excuses; “and yet I looked for her coming to get rid of all the farrago of politics that you wise folk will insist upon talking.”
The Countess and the Minister exchanged most significant glances at this speech, while D’Esmonde politely assented to the remark, by adding something about the relaxation necessary to overwrought minds, and the need that princes should enjoy some repose as well as those of lower degree. “I can, however, assure your Imperial Highness,” said he, “that this is no caprice of the young Princess. She is really far from well, and was even unable to receive her own relative this afternoon, the Count von Dalton.”
“What, is old Auersberg a relative of hers?”
“An uncle, or a grand-uncle, – I forget which, sir.”
“Then that wild youth in the Franz Carl must be a connection too?”
“The cadet is her brother, sir.”
“Indeed! What an extravagant fellow it is! They say that, counting on being Auersberg’s heir, he spends money in every possible fashion; and as the tradespeople take the succession on trust, his debts are already considerable. It was only yesterday his colonel spoke to me of sending him to the Banat, or some such place. His family must be rich, I suppose?”
“I believe quite the reverse, sir. Poor to indigence. Their entire hope is on the Count von Auersberg.”
“He held a frontier command for many years, and must have saved money. But will he like to see it in hands like these?”
“I believe – at least so the story goes,” said D’Esmonde, dropping his voice to a whisper, “that the boy’s arguments have scarcely assisted his object in that respect. They say that he told the Count that in times like these no man’s fortune was worth a year’s purchase; that when monarchs were tottering and thrones rocking, it were better to spend one’s means freely than to tempt pillage by hoarding it.”
“Are these his notions?” cried the Archduke, in amazement
“Yes; the wildest doctrines of Socialism are his creed, – opinions, I grieve to say, more widely spread than any one supposes.”
“How is this, then? I see the private regimental reports of every corps, I read the conduct-rolls of almost every company, and yet no hint of this disaffection has reached me.
“A priest could reveal more than an adjutant, sir,” said the Abbé, smiling. “These youths who fancy themselves neglected, – who think their claims disregarded, – who, in a word, imagine that some small pretension, on the score of family, should be the spring of their promotion, are easily seduced into extravagant ideas about freedom and so forth.”
“Austria is scarce the land for such fruit to ripen in,” said the Archduke, laughing. “Let him try France, or the United States.”
“Very true, your Highness,” chimed in the Abbé; “but such boys ought to be watched, – their conduct inquired strictly into.”
“Or better still, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said the Archduke, sternly, “dismissed the service. I see no profit in retaining amongst us the seeds of this French malady.”
“I believe your Highness takes the true view of the difficulty,” said D’Esmonde, as though reflecting over it. “And yet you will be asked to make an officer of him in a day or two.”
“An officer of this boy, and why, or by whom?”
“The