Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 126.djvu/160

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148
THE DILEMMA

twelfth dance; may I venture to hope ——"

"I am sorry she said again, in her low rich voice, "but we are not going to stay after that; papa is not very well tonight, and so we are going away early."

Just then Captain Buxey walked off to speak to one of the great official's staff, and Yorke was left standing alone by her.

"Won't you sit down?" said the lady, with a slight wave of her hand towards the place on her right left vacant by Colonel Tartar.

The young fellow did as he was bid, fancying that all eyes were turned towards him. Every nerve in his body seemed to be in action; it was as if he could hear his heart beat. His boot just touched the edge of her dress as it rested on the ground. It seemed like desecration, yet he dared not move.

Whether it was to relieve him from the embarrassment she noticed, or because she was wholly unconscious of it, she made a beginning of the conversation.

"What a very interesting sight this is, the variety of uniforms makes the scene so brilliant! I have never been to a military ball before, you know. In England one only knows military men by their titles; you scarcely ever see them in uniform."

"I thought you had lived mostly abroad?"

"Yes, so I have; but in France one does not meet with officers much in society. A great many of them, I believe, have risen from the ranks, and they seem rough in their manners. The Austrian officers we used to see in Italy appeared to be gentleman-like; but my aunt's friends were chiefly among the Italians, and they, you know, don't mix at all with the Austrians. I never was in any military society till now."

Yorke worked himself up into a state of frenzy to find something clever to say in reply, but no epigrammatic generalization which would cover the French and Austrian armies or Italian politics came uppermost, and Miss Cunningham went on. "I suppose all the officers dressed like Colonel Tartar belong to his regiment?"

"Yes," said Yorke, who had now found words, "and a very handsome uniform it is."

"And those other officers in blue with the embroidered jackets, are they hussars also?"

"No, those are the horse-artillery, and those in the plain blue coats are the foot-artillery. They are all one regiment, you know, but officers are picked out to serve with the troops of horse-artillery, which is quite the crack branch of the service," he added; for our subaltern, although sensitive about the inferiority of his own position, had no small feeling of jealousy prompting him to disparage the others.

"And those in scarlet with embroidered coats?" continued the young lady. "Oh! those are the headquarter swells — I mean," he stammered, "the headquarter staff. Lucky fellows, they get tremendous salaries, march about all the cold season, and go up to the hills in the hot."

"And who is that officer like a Circassian noble? Is that a fancy dress?"

"Oh no, that is Mr. Chupkin of the irregulars. Well, it is a fancy dress so far, that they wear pretty much what they fancy in the irregular cavalry; but that is their regular uniform, at least for a ball-room: they dress like the men on parade and without all that gold embroidery. Ah! that is the service," he continued with enthusiasm; "I would almost rather get into the irregular cavalry than even into the quartermaster-general's department. Excuse my talking shop in this way," he added, apologetically, observing that the fair listener looked puzzled; "but everybody here is so accustomed to the ins and outs of the service, that one forgets you would not take an interest in it."

"But I do take an interest in it," replied the young lady, looking at him with a frank smile." I want to learn all about these things. But you speak of leaving your own branch of the service. Surely you are proud of commanding those fine-looking sepoys, they look so soldierlike and manly mounting sentry at our house; and papa tells me that yours is a very fine regiment; I suppose that is a reason why your dress is different from that of the other infantry officers."

Yorke blushed as the fair speaker glanced at the wings which he wore instead of epaulets. Could she be wishing to please and flatter? and yet her manner was as if she were ten years older than himself.

He muttered something about his being attached to a flank company, although he was commanding another, and about the 76th being considered a crack corps, yet the next moment was angry with