"Will you lend me this letter? I give you my word of honour not to retain it more than an hour, and that no eyes, save those of a certain lady, shall see it," said von Stielow.

"This, too, is granted--a proof of my unbounded confidence."

"I take it, then, and I thank you from my heart."

"And now, sir," said the count, in a deep resonant voice, "permit me to request your friendship. I am older than yourself, and many of life's circ.u.mstances, which are still strange to you, lie before me like an open book, and the book of life cannot be read without pain and sorrow.

The hand of a friend, of an older and experienced friend, is a great protection--mine is always at your service."

And with a frank and n.o.ble movement Count Rivero offered the young officer his hand. Stielow seized it, not without emotion.

"I have behaved like a foolish child," he cried, with candid heartiness, "and I have to thank you for much; perhaps, for a happy change in my life."

They returned to the seconds, and drove back to town.

Herr von Stielow went home, seated himself at his writing table, and placed three bank notes, each for a thousand gulden, in a large envelope; he added the letter with which Count Rivero had entrusted him. He sealed and addressed the packet, then he rang.

"Take this immediately to Madame Balzer in the Ringstra.s.se. Give it into her own hands," said he to the servant.

Then he stretched out his arms with a deep-drawn breath, and threw himself into an arm chair.

"The meteor has vanished for ever!" he cried; "now shine kindly upon me, thou pure, fair star, whose clear light smiles so peacefully."

His eyes closed; Nature claimed her rights after the wakeful night and the excitement of the morning.

Late in the afternoon of the same day, some of the guests whom we met formerly at Countess Mensdorff's, were a.s.sembled in a large and elegant drawing-room of a beautiful old house in the Herrenga.s.se, in Vienna.

The small fire burning in the marble fire-place cast glowing reflections on the polished parquet floor. A hanging l.u.s.tre, with three branches, shed an agreeable light over the room, and here and there sparkled upon the gold frames on the walls containing the family portraits. Opposite the fire-place stood a large table, upon which was a beautiful bronze lamp with a large blue gla.s.s shade, and the high-backed chairs and sofas were covered with dark blue silk.

The mistress of the house, Countess Frankenstein, sat on a sofa near the table. She was an elderly lady of that type of the Austrian aristocracy which so strongly recalls the old French _n.o.blesse_ of the _ancien regime_, but possesses also the Austrian kindliness and Austrian national feeling, a combination which makes the higher circles of society in Vienna so peculiarly attractive.

The lady's partially grey hair was carefully arranged; a high dress of rich dark silk fell around her in heavy folds, and beautifully-set old diamonds gleamed in her brooch, her ear-rings and bracelet.

Beside her sat the Countess Clam Gallas.

On a low chair at her mother's side sat the young countess, in a beautiful toilette, which showed she was going out later in the evening.

Count Clam stood before her, leaning on the back of a chair.

They spoke of the great question of the day, and the whole party were much excited by the ever-increasing certainty of the war about to break out.

"I was with Mensdorff this morning," said Count Clam Gallas; "he told me he could count the days before the declaration of war. After we, as was only right, summoned the confederation to decide upon the fate of the Duchies, General von Manteuffel marched into Holstein."

"But that is war!" cried Countess Frankenstein; "and what has happened?

What has Gablenz done?"

"Gablenz is here already," replied the count, "and his troops are returning; we are in too small numbers there, and too much scattered, to do anything. We are daily expecting orders to join the army in Bohemia. Count Karolyi will be recalled from Berlin, and in Frankfort the decree will be published for the mobilization of the whole of the Army of the Confederation against Prussia."

"At last then," cried Countess Clam Gallas, "upstart Prussia will receive due punishment, and all the evil the Hohenzollerns have done to our Imperial House will be avenged."

"But how about Hanover?" asked Countess Frankenstein. "Is not Gablenz to remain there with his troops?"

"Hanover has not yet decided," said the count.

"Incredible!" cried Countess Frankenstein and Countess Clam Gallas in one breath.

"Has then Count Platen forgotten all his friendship for Austria?"

The young countess sighed.

"What is it, countess?" asked Count Clam Gallas; "our ladies must not sigh when we mount horse, and draw the sword for the honour of old Austria."

"I am thinking of the poor things whose blood must flow," said the young countess, and she looked up as if she saw a picture of some scene of horror.

The door was thrown open, and Lieutenant Field Marshal Baron Reischach announced.

The Baron entered, smiling and cheerful as ever. He saluted the ladies in his knightly style, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance.

"You have grown, Countess Clara," said he jestingly; "this child really looks over our heads."

He seated himself, and held out his hand to Count Clam Gallas.

"You favoured being," he said, "you will soon be in the field!"

"I expect orders hourly."

"We old cripples must stay at home," said Reischach, sadly, and a look of grave melancholy pa.s.sed over his jovial countenance, but soon vanished again. "I saw Benedek before he started for Bohemia," he then said.

"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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.bility 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."

The count had spoken with much warmth. No one replied, and there was a momentary silence. Baron von Reischach interrupted it by exclaiming--