The countess looked disdainfully at the diminutive figure of her
son, and raised her shoulders with contempt. "You a soldier!"

"Yes!" exclaimed Eugene, passionately. "Yes! My soul abhors the
cloister, and yearns for the battle-field. While you have fancied
that I was studying theology, I have been poring over the lives of
great commanders; and, instead of preparing my soul for heaven, I
have trained my body for earthly strife. Look not so compassionately
upon my stature, mother. This body is slender, but 'tis the coat of
mail that covers an intrepid soul, and I have hardened it until it
can bid defiance to wind or weather. With this arm I curb the
wildest horse, nor will its sinews yield to the blow of the most
practised swordsman in France. I have studied the science of warfare
in books: my life has been one long preparation for its practice,
and I cannot, will not relinquish my day-dreams of glory."

"There is no help for it, I tell you. All princes of the blood are
wards of the king: your royal guardian has chosen your profession,
and you must either submit or bear the consequences of his wrath."

"What care I for his wrath? Let him give me my freedom, and I will
promise never to seek my fortune at his hands."

"At all events, wait for some favorable opportunity to rebel,
Eugene. We are poor and dependent now, and your brother's scandalous
marriage has forever marred our hopes of seeing him heir to the
duchy of Savoy. To think of a Prince de Carignan uniting himself to
the daughter of the equerry of the Prince de Conde! What a
disgrace!"