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 distrustfully. He wished not to credit the opinion, but knew not how to refute it, and was silent. “That is the 'Franz Carl,' Dalton,” said Walstein, pointing to a column of infantry, who, in their dark gray overcoats, seemed a sad-looking, gloomy mass. “They've got the best band and the most savage colonel in the service.” Frank gazed at the regiment with a strange sensation of awe and fear. “There lies my destiny!” thought he. “Who knows what friendships or enmities await me yonder? What hearts in that dark mass will beat responsively with my own; what sources of sorrow or affliction may I meet with amongst them!” “I wish thou hadst a better regiment, Dalton,” said Walstein. “How a better? Is it not a brave and distinguished corps?”