s flood splashing and foaming amid the fragments of ice floated
down from the mountain regions, and which every moment were shivered
against the stone breakwaters with the crash of thunder. Beyond the
river rose the fortified walls of the city, covered with a dense
multitude of people, eager spectators of a grand military display,
which, with all the pomp of war, poured forth beneath the dark archway
of the entrance-gate, and, winding over the "glacis," crossed the
bridge, and held on its course towards the Prater.

It was a clear, bright day of winter; the blue sky almost cloudless, and
the sharp outline of every object stood out, crisp and well defined, in
the thin atmosphere. Nothing could be more favorable for the effect of
such a spectacle. The bright weapons glanced and glittered like silver,
the gay trappings and brilliant uniforms showed in all their splendor,
the scarlet Lancers, the blue-clad Hussars, the Cuirassiers, with their
towering helmets, vied with each other in soldierlike bearing; while the
dense mass of infantry moved along with a surging, waving motion, like
a vast sea heaving with a ground-swell. It was an army complete in every
detail; for, even to the "ambulances" for the wounded, everything was
there.

"A review by the Emperor!" said Walstein; "and see, there comes his
staff." And he pointed to a group of horsemen, whose waving plumes and
floating dolmans were seen at a little distance off in the plain.

"Oh, let us follow them!" cried Frank, enthusiastically. "Such a
glorious sight as this I never even imagined."

"You 'll see enough, perhaps too many such," said the Count, languidly.
"It's a favorite pastime of our old General's to drag us out of quarters
in the very depth of winter, and spend a day in the snow of the Prater."

"Who could have a thought for weather or hardship when engaged in such a
scene?" said Frank.

"So, evidently, think those worthy field-marshals and generals of
division, who, well mounted, and swathed in furs, canter down to the
ground, an hour after we have reached it, and ride back again when they
have 'taken the salute,' leaving us to plod wearily home, through wet
roads and sloppy streets, to our cold barracks. But just the reverse
is the opinion of those poor fellows yonder, with blue faces and
frostbitten knuckles, and who have neither pride in this display, nor
sympathy with the success of what is called 'a fine manoeuvre.'"

Frank shook his head distrust