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 this?” Ravitzky grew red and pale in a second, and then stood like one balancing a difficulty in his own mind. “I ask again, how comes a mention of me in this document?” cried Frank, angrily. “The letter, Herr Lieutenant, is from my cousin, who, aware that I was serving in the same troop with you, offered to make me known to you.” “And who is this cousin with whom I am so intimate?” said Frank, proudly. “Count Ernest Walstein,” said the other, calmly. “What, he is your cousin? Are you really related to Walstein?” The other bowed slightly in assent “Then how is it, with such family influence, that you remain a cadet? you have been two years in the service?” “Nearly four years, Heir Lieutenant,” was the quiet reply. “Well, four years, and still unpromoted; how is that?” Ravitzky looked as if unable to answer the question, and seemed confused and uneasy. “You have always been a good soldier. I see it in your 'character roll;' there is not one punishment recorded against you.” “Not one!” said the cadet, haughtily. “There must, then, be some graver reason for passing you over?” “There may be,” said the other, with a careless pride in his manner. “Which you know?” said Frank, interrogatively. “Which I guess at,” said Ravitzky. “Here is your letter, cadet,” said Frank, banding it back to him. “I see you will not make a confidant of me, and I will not force a confession.” Ravitzky took the letter, and, saluting with respect, was about to fall back, when Frank said,---- “I wish you would be frank with me, and explain this mystery.” “You call it mystery, sir?” said the other, in astonishment “You are an Irishman born, and call this a mystery?” “And why not? What has my birth to do with it?”