The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II
It is likely that if Frank had not been corrupted by all the adulation he had so lately received, – if his self-esteem had not been stimulated into an absurd and overweening vanity, he would have read this youth’s character aright, and have seen in him that very spirit of independence which once he himself sought to display, albeit by a very different road! Now, however, he received everything in a false light, – the reserve was insolence, the coldness was disrespect, the punctuality in duty a kind of defiance to him. How often he wished he had never taken him! The very sight of him was now odious to his eyes.
Austrian troops enjoy so much of freedom on a march, that it is difficult often for the most exacting martinet to seize opportunities for the small tyrannies of discipline. Frank’s ingenuity was now to be tried in this way, and, it is but fair to confess, not unsuccessfully. He compelled the men to appear each morning as smart as if on parade, – their carbines in the bandoleers, and not slung at the saddle, – he inspected every belt and strap and buckle, and visited even the slightest infraction with a punishment Ravitzky accepted all this as the ordinary routine of discipline, and never, even by a look, appeared to resent it. Tyranny would seem to be one of the most insidious of all passions, and, if indulged in little things, invariably goes on extending its influences to greater ones.
At Maltz a new occasion arose for the tormenting influence of this power, as the military post brought several letters from Vienna, one of which was addressed to the cadet Ravitzky. It was about a week before Frank was indignantly complaining to his sister of the shameless violation of all feeling exhibited in opening and reading every soldier’s letter. He was eloquently warm in defending such humble rights, and declaimed on the subject with all the impassioned fervor of an injured man, and yet so corrupting is power, so subtle are the arguments by which one establishes differences and distinctions, that now he himself saw nothing strange nor severe in exercising this harsh rule towards another.
He was out of temper, too, that morning. The trim and orderly appearance of the men gave no opportunity of a grumble, and he strutted along on foot in front of his party, only anxious for something to catch at. On turning suddenly around, he saw Ravitzky with his open letter before him, reading. This was a slight breach of discipline on a march where infractions far greater are every day permitted; but it offered another means of persecution, and he called the cadet imperiously to the front,
“Are you aware, cadet,” said he, “of the general order regarding the letters of all who serve in the ranks?”
“I am, Herr Lieutenant,” said the other, flushing deeply, as he saluted him.
“Then you knew that you were committing a breach of discipline in opening that letter?”
“As the letter is written in Hungarian, Herr Lieutenant, I felt that to show it to you could be but a ceremony.”
“This explanation may satisfy you, sir; it does not suffice for me. Hand me your letter.”
Ravitzky grew scarlet at the command, and for an instant he seemed as though about to dispute it; but duty overcame every personal impulse, and he gave it.
“I see my own name here,” cried Frank, as the one word legible to his eyes caught him. “How is this?”
Ravitzky grew red and pale in a second, and then stood like one balancing a difficulty in his own mind.
“I ask again, how comes a mention of me in this document?” cried Frank, angrily.
“The letter, Herr Lieutenant, is from my cousin, who, aware that I was serving in the same troop with you, offered to make me known to you.”
“And who is this cousin with whom I am so intimate?” said Frank, proudly.
“Count Ernest Walstein,” said the other, calmly.
“What, he is your cousin? Are you really related to Walstein?”
The other bowed slightly in assent
“Then how is it, with such family influence, that you remain a cadet? you have been two years in the service?”
“Nearly four years, Heir Lieutenant,” was the quiet reply.
“Well, four years, and still unpromoted; how is that?”
Ravitzky looked as if unable to answer the question, and seemed confused and uneasy.
“You have always been a good soldier. I see it in your ‘character roll;’ there is not one punishment recorded against you.”
“Not one!” said the cadet, haughtily.
“There must, then, be some graver reason for passing you over?”
“There may be,” said the other, with a careless pride in his manner.
“Which you know?” said Frank, interrogatively.
“Which I guess at,” said Ravitzky.
“Here is your letter, cadet,” said Frank, banding it back to him. “I see you will not make a confidant of me, and I will not force a confession.”
Ravitzky took the letter, and, saluting with respect, was about to fall back, when Frank said, —
“I wish you would be frank with me, and explain this mystery.”
“You call it mystery, sir?” said the other, in astonishment “You are an Irishman born, and call this a mystery?”
“And why not? What has my birth to do with it?”
“Simply that it might have taught the explanation. Is it truth, or am I deceived in believing that your nation is neither well received nor kindly met by the prouder country with which you are united; and that, save when you stoop to blush at your nationality, you are never recognized as claimant for either office or advancement?”
“This may have been the case once to some extent,” said Frank, doubtingly, “but I scarcely think such differences exist now.”
“Then you are more fortunate than we,” said Ravitzky.
“But I see men of your nation the very highest in military rank, – the very nearest to the Sovereign?”
“Their’s be the shame, then,” said Ravitzky. “There are false hearts in every land.”
“This is a puzzle to me I cannot comprehend.”
“I ‘ll tell you how to understand it all, and easily, too, Herr Lieutenant. Take this letter and forward it to the Council of War; declare that Cadet Ravitzky acknowledged to yourself that he was a Hungarian, heart and soul, and, save the eagle on his chako, had nothing of Austria about him. Add, that a hundred thousand of his countrymen are ready to assert the same; and see if they will not make you an Ober-lieutenant, and send me to Moncacs for life.” He held out the letter, as he spoke, for Frank to take, and looked as proudly defiant as if daring him to the act.
“You cannot suppose I would do this?”
“And yet it is exactly your duty, and what you took a solemn oath to perform not a week back.”
“And if there be such disaffection in the troops, how will they behave before an enemy?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“As they have always done; ay, even in this very campaign that now threatens us, where men are about to strike a blow for liberty, you ‘ll see our fellows as foremost in the charge as though the cause at stake was not their own.”
“Ravitzky, I wish you had told me nothing of all this.”
“And yet you forced the confession from me. I told Walstein, over and over, that you were not suited for our plans. You rich men have too much to lose to venture on so bold a game; he thought otherwise, and all because you were an Irishman!”
“But I have scarcely ever seen Ireland. I know nothing of its grievances or wrongs.”
“I believe they are like our own,” said Ravitzky. “They tell me that your people, like ours, are warm, passionate, and impatient; generous in their attachments, and terrible in their hatred. If it be so, and if England be like Austria, there will be the same game to play out there as here.”
Frank grew thoughtful at these words. He recalled all that the Abbé D’Esmonde had said to him about the rights of a free people and the duties of citizenship, and canvassed within his own mind the devoirs of his position; meanwhile Ravitzky had fallen back to the men and taken his place in the ranks.
“They’ll not compromise me before an enemy,” thought Frank; “that I may rely on.” And with this trustful assurance he mounted and rode slowly forward, deeply sunk in thought, and far less pleasantly than was his wont to be. From all the excitement of his late life, with its flatteries and fascinations, he now fell into a thoughtful mood, the deeper that it was so strongly in contrast to what preceded it The greater interests that now flashed across his mind made him feel the frivolity of the part he had hitherto played. “Ravitzky is not older than I am, and yet how differently does he speculate on the future! His ambitions are above the narrow limits of selfish advancement, and the glory he aims at is not a mere personal distinction.”
This was a dangerous theme, and the longer he dwelt upon it the more perilous did it become.
The snow lay in deep drifts in many parts of the mountain, and the progress of the little party became daily slower as they ascended. Frequently they were obliged to dismount and lead their horses for miles, and at these times Frank and Ravitzky were always together. It was intimacy without any feeling of attachment on either side, and yet they were drawn towards each other by some strange mysterious sympathy. Their conversation ranged over every topic, from the great events which menaced Europe to the smallest circumstances of personal history; and in all Frank found the cadet his superior. It was not alone that his views were higher, more disinterested, and less selfish, but his judgments were calmer and better weighed.
“You want to be a count of the Empire, and a grand cross of every order of Europe,” said Ravitzky one day to Frank, at the close of a rather warm discussion. “I want to see my country free, and live an humble soldier in the ranks.” This bold avowal seemed to separate them still more widely, and it was plain that each regarded the other with distrust and reserve. It was after some days of this distance that Frank endeavored to restore their intimacy by leading Ravitzky to speak of himself, and at last ventured to ask him how it came that he still remained a cadet, while others, in every way inferior to him, were made officers.
“I have refused promotion some half-dozen times over,” said the other. “As a kaiser-cadet, my time of service will expire in a few months hence; then I shall be free to leave the service. Were I to accept my grade as an officer, I should have to take an oath of fidelity to the Emperor, which I would not, and pledge myself to a course that I could not do.”
“Then they probably know the reasons for which you have declined promotion?”
“Assuredly they can guess them,” was the curt reply.
“You are a strange fellow, Ravitzky, and I scarcely understand you.”
“And yet there is nothing less a mystery than my conduct or my motives,” rejoined he, proudly. “My father is a noble, high in the service and confidence of the Emperor, and although a Magyar by birth, is Austrian by choice and predilection. My sympathies are with my countrymen. In obedience to his wishes I have entered this service; in justice to myself, I mean to quit it when I can with honor.”
“And for what, or where?” asked Frank.
“Who knows?” said he, sorrowfully. “Many of our nation have gone over the seas in search of a new land. Already we are almost as destitute of a home as the Poles. But why talk of these things, Herr Lieutenant? I may be led to say that which it would be your duty to report; you ought, perhaps, as it is, to denounce me. Have no fears; my life would always be spared; my family’s fidelity would save me. This is one of the glorious privileges of birth,” cried he, scornfully. “The ‘fusillade’ will be the sentence for one of those poor fellows yonder; but you and I are too well born for justice to reach.”
“Assuredly, I ‘ll not quarrel with the privilege!” said Frank, laughing.
“And yet, if I were as rich and as great as you are,” said Ravitzky, “it is exactly what I should do! With your fortune and your rank you want nothing from king or kaiser. Who, then, would not strive for the higher rewards that only a whole nation can confer?”
Frank blushed deeply at the allusion to his supposed wealth, but had not the courage to refute it. He, however, sought an opportunity to turn the conversation to other channels, and avoided, for the future, all mention of every theme of politics or party. The mischief, however, was done. He brooded forever in secret over all the Hungarian had told him; while old memories of fresh wrongs, as narrated by his father long ago, kept recurring and mingling with them, till not only the themes excluded other thoughts, but that he felt the character of his own ambition changing, and new and very different hopes succeeding to his former ones.
CHAPTER XIV. THE SKIRMISH
At last they reached the summit of the Stelvio, and began the descent of the mountain; and what a glorious contrast does the southern aspect of an Alpine range present to the cold barrenness of the north! From the dreary regions of snow, they came at length to small patches of verdure, with here and there a stunted pine-tree. Then the larches appeared, their graceful feathery foliage checkering the sunlight into ten thousand fanciful shapes; while streams and rivulets bubbled and rippled on every side, – not icebound as before, but careering along in glad liberty, and with the pleasant music of falling water. Lower down, the grass was waving as the wind moved on, and cattle were seen in herds revelling in the generous pasture, or seeking shelter beneath the deep chestnut-trees; for, already, even here, the Italian sun was hot. Lower again came dark groves of olives and trellised vines; long aisles of leafy shade traversing the mountain in every direction, now curving in graceful bends, now in bold zigzags, scaling the steep precipices, and sometimes hanging over cliffs and crags, where not even the boldest hand would dare to pluck the ruddy bunches.
Beneath them, as they went, the great plain of Lombardy opened to their view, – that glorious expanse of wood and waving corn, with towns and villages dotting the surface; while directly below, at their very feet, as it were, stretched the Lake of Como, its wooded banks reflected in the waveless water. What a scene of beauty was that fair lake, with its leafy promontories, its palaces, and its Alpine background, all basking under the deep blue of an Italian sky; while perfumes of orange groves, of acacias and magnolias, rose like an incense in the air, and floated upwards!
Even the hard nature of the wild Hungarian – the rude dweller beside the dark-rolling Danube or the rapid Theiss – could not survey the scene unmoved; and, dismounting from their saddles, the hussars moved stealthily along, as if invading the precincts of some charmed region. Frank was in no haste to leave so picturesque a spot, and resolved to halt for the night beneath the shade of some tall chestnut-trees, where they had sought shelter from the noonday sun. Como was at his feet, straight down beneath him was the wooded promontory of Bellagio, and in the distance rose the Swiss Alps, now tinged with the violet hue of sunset Never was there a scene less likely to suggest thoughts of war or conflict If the eye turned from the dark woods of the Brianza to the calm surface of the lake, everything wore the same aspect of peaceful security. Figures could be seen seated or walking on the terraces of the villas; gorgeously decked gondolas stole over the bay, their gold-embroidered ensigns trailing lazily in the water. Equipages and troops of horsemen wound their way along the leafy lanes; not a sight nor sound that did not portend ease and enjoyment.
With all Frank’s ardor for adventure, he was not sorry at all this. His orders to fall back, in case he saw signs of a formidable movement, were too peremptory to be disobeyed, and he would have turned away with great reluctance from a picture so temptingly inviting. Now there was no need to think of this. The great dome of the Milan Cathedral showed on the horizon that he was not thirty miles from the Austrian headquarters, while all around and about him vouched for perfect quiet and tranquillity.
Tempted by a bright moonlight and the delicious freshness of the night, he determined to push on as far as Lecco, where he could halt for the day, and by another night-march reach Milan. Descending slowly, they gained the plain before midnight, and now found themselves on that narrow strip of road which, escarped from the rock, tracks the margin of the lake for miles. Here Frank learned from a peasant that Lecco was much too distant to reach before daybreak, and determined to halt at Varenna, only a few miles off.
This man was the only one they had come up with for several hours, and both Frank and Ravitzky remarked the alarm and terror he exhibited as he suddenly found himself in the midst of them.
“Our cloth here,” said the cadet, bitterly, “is so allied to thoughts of tyranny and cruelty, one is not to wonder at the terror of that poor peasant.”
“He said Varenna was about five miles off,” said Frank, who did not like the spirit of the last remark, and wished to change the topic.
“Scarcely so much; but that as the road was newly mended, we should be obliged to walk our cattle.”
“Did you remark the fellow while we were talking, – how his eye wandered over our party? I could almost swear that I saw him counting our numbers.”
“I did not notice that,” said the cadet, with an almost sneering tone. “I saw that the poor fellow looked stealthily about from side to side, and seemed most impatient to be off.”
“And when he did go,” cried Frank, “I could not see what way he took. His ‘Felice notte, Signori,’ was scarce uttered when he disappeared.”
“He took us for a patrol,” remarked the other, carelessly; and whether it was this tone, or that Frank was piqued at the assumed coolness of the cadet, he made no further remark, but rode on to the front of the party. Shortly after this the moon disappeared; and as the road occasionally passed through long tunnellings in the rock, the way became totally obscured, so that in places they were obliged to leave the horses entirely to their own guidance.
“There ‘s Varenna at last!” said Frank, pointing out some lights, which, glittering afar off, were reflected in long columns in the water.
“That may still be a couple of miles off,” said Ravitzky, “for the shores of the lake wind greatly hereabouts. But, there! did you not see a light yonder? —that may be the village.” But as he spoke the light was gone; and although they continued to look towards the spot for several minutes, it never reappeared.
“They fish by torchlight here,” said Ravitzky, “and that may have been the light; and, by the way, there goes a skiff over the water at a furious rate! – hear how the fellows ply their oars.”
The dark object which now skimmed the waters must have been close under the rocks while they were speaking; for she suddenly shot out, and in a few minutes was lost to view.
“Apparently the clink of our sabres has frightened those fellows, too,” said Frank, laughing, “for they pull like men in haste.”
“It’s well if it be no worse,” said the cadet.
“Partly what I was thinking, myself,” said Frank. “We may as well be cautious here.” And he ordered Ravitzky, with two men, to ride forty paces in advance, while four others, with carbines cocked, were to drop a similar distance to the rear.
The consciousness that he was assuming a responsibility made Frank feel anxious and excited, and at the same time he was not without the irritating sense that attaches to preparations of needless precaution. From this, however, he was rallied by remarking that Ravitzky seemed more grave and watchful than usual, carefully examining the road as he went along, and halting his party at the slightest noise.
“Did you hear or see anything in front?” asked Frank, as he rode up beside them.
“I have just perceived,” said the cadet, “that the boat which half an hour ago shot ahead and left us, has now returned, and persists in keeping a little in advance of us. There! you can see her yonder. They make no noise with their oars, but are evidently bent on watching our movements.”
“We ‘ll soon see if that be their ‘tactic,’” said Frank, and gave the word to his men “To trot.”
For about half a mile the little party rode sharply forwards, the very pace and the merry clink of the accoutrements seeming to shake off that suspectful anxiety a slower advance suggests. The men were now ordered to walk their horses; and just as they obeyed the word, Ravitzky called out, “See! there she is again. The winding of the bay has given them the advantage of us, and there they are still in front!”
“After all,” rejoined Frank, “it may be mere curiosity. Cavalry, I suppose, are seldom seen in these parts.”
“So much the better,” said Ravitzky, “for there is no ground for them to manouvre, with a mountain on one hand, and a lake on the other. There! did you see that light? It was a signal of some kind. It was shown twice; and mark, now! it is acknowledged yonder.”
“And where is the boat?”
“Gone.”
“Let us push on to Varenna; there must be some open ground near the village!” cried Frank. “Trot!”
An older soldier than Frank might have felt some anxiety at the position of a party so utterly defenceless if attacked; perhaps, indeed, his inexperience was not his worst ally at this moment, and he rode on boldly, only eager to know what and where was the peril he was called on to confront Suddenly Ravitzky halted, and called out, “There’s a tree across the road.”
Frank rode up, and perceived that a young larch-tree had been placed across the way, half carelessly, as it seemed, and without any object of determined opposition.
Two men dismounted by his orders to remove it, and in doing so, discovered that a number of poles and branches were concealed beside the rocks, where they lay evidently ready for use.
“They’ve had a Tyroler at work here,” cried an old Corporal of the Hussars; “they mean to stop us higher up the road, and if we fall back we ‘ll find a barricade here in our rear.”
“Over with them into the lake,” said Frank, “and then forward at once.”
Both orders were speedily obeyed, and the party now advanced at a rapid trot.
They were close to Varenna, and at a spot where the road is closely hemmed in by rocks on either side, when the sharp bang of a rifle was heard, and a shrill cry shouted something from the hillside, and was answered from the lake. Ravitzky had but time to give the word “Forwards!” when a tremendous fire opened from the vineyards, the roadside, and the boat. The red flashes showed a numerous enemy; but, except these, nothing was to be seen. “Forwards, and reserve your fire, men!” he cried. And they dashed on; but a few paces more found them breasted against a strong barricade of timber and country carts, piled up across the way; a little distance behind which rose another barricade; and here the enemy was thickly posted, as the shattering volley soon proved.
As Frank stood irresolute what course to take, the Corporal, who commanded the rear, galloped up to say that all retreat was cut off in that direction, two heavy wagons being thrown across the road, and crowds of people occupying every spot to fire from.
“Dismount, and storm the barricade!” cried Frank; and, setting the example, he sprang from his saddle, and rushed forwards.
There is no peril a Hungarian will not dare if his officer but lead the way; and now, in face of a tremendous fire at pistol-range, they clambered up the steep sides, while the balls were rattling like hail around them.
The Italians, evidently unprepared for this attack, poured in a volley and fled to the cliffs above the road. Advancing to the second barricade, Frank quickly gained the top, and sprang down into the road. Ravitzky, who was ever close behind him, had scarcely gained the height, when, struck in the shoulder by a ball, he dropped heavily down upon the ground. The attack had now begun from front, flanks, and rear together, and a deadly fire poured down upon the hussars without ceasing, while all attempt at defence was hopeless.
“Open a pass through the barricade,” shouted Frank, “and bring up the horses!” And while some hastened to obey the order, a few others grouped themselves around Ravitzky, and tried to shelter him as he lay.
“Don’t leave me to these fellows, Dalton,” cried he, passionately; “heave me over into the lake rather.”
