The high
revels in the guardroom were no more, the cuirassiers were no
longer made up of the young nobles of the kingdom; they were now
merely watch dogs.
Twenty years ago the commander had come from Dresden as an
instructor in arms, and after the first year had watched over
the royal household, in the service of the late king and the
king who lay dying. He had come of good family, but others had
come oof better, and had carried of court honors, though his
post in early days had been envied by many. He was above all
else a soldier, the embodiment of patience and integrity, and he
scorned to murmur because fortune had passed over his head. As
he sucked at his pipe, he recalled the days of Albrecht and his
opera singers, the court scandals, and his own constant
employment as messenger in the king's love intrigues.
Albrecht had died a widower and childless, and with him had died
the flower of court life. The courtiers and sycophants had
flocked to the standard of the duke, and had remained there,
primarily because Leopold of Osia promised a sedate and
exemplary life. Sometimes the Captain shook his head, as if
communing with some unpleasant thought.
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