eptowitz, their Colonel, is a true hussar."

For a moment Dalton hesitated whether he should not make the honest
avowal of his narrow fortune, and tell that he had no pretension to such
habits of cost and expense; but shame was too powerful to permit the
acknowledgment. He had already gone too far to retract, and he felt
that any candor now would be the confession of a cheat. If these were
harassing and torturing reflections, one flickering ray of hope still
glimmered through the gloom; and this was, what he might expect from his
uncle. "If he be really rich, as they say," thought Frank, "if his favor
be so great with the Emperor, even such a career as this may not be
above my prospects." As he revolved these thoughts, he sat with his head
buried between his hands, forgetful of where he was and all around him.

"You 're losing everything, Dalton," said Walstein. "See, there go
the 'Kaiser Jagers,' with their bugles, the finest in the service; and
yonder are the Lichtenstein 'Light Horse,' mounted on thorough-bred
cattle; and there, to the left, those savage-looking fellows with long
beards, they are the 'Croat Grenadiers.' But here comes the Emperor!"
And, as he spoke, one deafening cheer burst forth along the line, and
was echoed back from the walls of Vienna; while every band struck up
the national hymn of Austria, and the proud notes of "God preserve the
Emperor!" floated through the air.

A brilliant staff of generals of every arm of the service accompanied
"the Kaiser;" and Walstein ran quickly over the names of these, many of
whom were among the first nobility of the Empire. Some were the war-worn
veterans of the great campaigns; some the young hopes of Austrian
chivalry; but, conspicuous above all, was a figure whose stature, as
well as the singularity of his uniform, attracted Frank's notice. He was
a very tall old man, dressed in a uniform of purple velvet slashed with
gold, and actually covered with the crosses and decorations of various
orders. His cap was a tall chako of red-brown fur, from which a long,
straight scarlet plume floated, and beneath which his gray hair was
fastened in a queue, that hung half-way down his back. Yellow buskins
ornamented with massive gold spurs completed a costume which seemed
almost a compromise between the present and some bygone age.

The figure of the wearer, too, suited well this impression. There was
a stern rigidity of look as he sat still and motionless in his saddle,