At this period Wilfrid had resumed the Austrian uniform as a common soldier in the ranks of the Kinsky regiment.  General Schoneck had obtained the privilege for him from the Marshal, General Pierson refusing to lift a finger on his behalf.  Nevertheless the uncle was not sorry to hear the tale of his nephew’s exploits during the campaign, or of the eccentric intrepidity of the white umbrella; and both to please him, and to intercede for Wilfrid, the tatter’s old comrades recited his deeds as a part of the treasured familiar history of the army in its late arduous struggle.

General Pierson was chiefly anxious to know whether Countess Lena would be willing to give her hand to Wilfrid in the event of his restoration to his antecedent position in the army.  He found her extremely excited about Carlo Ammiani, her old playmate, and once her dear friend.  She would not speak of Wilfrid at all.  To appease the chivalrous little woman, General Pierson hinted that his nephew, being under the protection of General Schoneck, might get some intelligence from that officer.  Lena pretended to reject the notion of her coming into communication with Wilfrid for any earthly purpose.  She said to herself, however, that her object was pre-eminently unselfish; and as the General pointedly refused to serve her in a matter that concerned an Italian nobleman, she sent directions to Wilfrid to go before General Schoeneck the moment he was off duty, and ask his assistance, in her name, to elucidate the mystery of Count Ammiani’s behaviour.  The answer was a transmission of Captain Weisspriess’s letter to Carlo.  Lena caused the fact of this letter having missed its way to be circulated in the journals, and then she carried it triumphantly to her sister, saying: 

“There!  I knew these reports were abase calumny.”

“Reports, to what effect?” said Anna.

“That Carlo Ammiani had slunk from a combat with your duellist.”

“Oh!  I knew that myself,” Anna remarked.

“You were the loudest in proclaiming it.”

“Because I intend to ruin him.”

“Carlo Ammiani?  What has he done to you?”

Anna’s eyes had fallen on the additional lines of the letter which she had not dictated.  She frowned and exclaimed: 

“What is this?  Does the man play me false?  Read those lines, Lena, and tell me, does the man mean to fight in earnest who can dare to write them?  He advises Ammiani to go to Venice.  It’s treason, if it is not cowardice.  And see here—­he has the audacity to say that he deeply respects the lady Ammiani is going to marry.  Is Ammiani going to marry her?  I think not.”

Anna dashed the letter to the floor.

“But I will make use of what’s within my reach,” she said, picking it up.

“Carlo Ammiani will marry her, I presume,” said Lena.

“Not before he has met Captain Weisspriess, who, by the way, has obtained his majority.  And, Lena, my dear, write to inform him that we wish to offer him our congratulations.  He will be a General officer in good time.”