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 thi