CHAPTER II
St. Arnaudand Gavin travelled all that day through a scene of desolation, but the sun shone, and they were approaching a part of the country where at least food could be had, and their circumstances seemed so much improved, that all at once the world took on an altogether different aspect. No man could long endure, and live, the hideous depression from which St. Arnaud had suffered since Rosbach; and when his soul made a final rally, it was to perch upon heights of hope and joy. He felt sure they would beat Frederick of Prussia, and one short month would see a revival of the fortunes of the Empress Queen. He so expressed himself to Gavin, who had never suffered any depression whatever. And each found a source of vivid interest in the other’s personality. St. Arnaud had never met a man in the least like this young French-Englishman, and the story of the mother, the woman who was Lady Hamilton by right, starving and freezing with her child, butalways working in her miserable attic in a great foreign city, was moving to him. He saw that the son of such a mother would be of tough fibre. As for Gavin, St. Arnaud’s beauty, grace, and superior knowledge of the world were so captivating, that the riding by his side in an officer’s uniform was an intoxicating pleasure.
“Often,” thought Gavin to himself, looking sidewise at St. Arnaud’s clear and handsome profile, “have I watched you at parade, and longed—oh, how I have longed—to be on equal terms with you. I shall be yet, because I am resolved, if a man has any share in his own destiny, to be one day a sublieutenant; and then—pouf! the rest is easy.” He would have dearly liked to ask St. Arnaud questions, but he remembered that, although they rode side by side, he was still a private soldier. St. Arnaud, however, took the privilege of an officer, and questioned Gavin freely.
“Can you read and write?” he asked.
“Like a notary,” replied Gavin promptly. “My mother took good care to give me an excellent English education herself, and she was well qualified, too. Often has she taught me out of her head when she would be working at her needle for a living, for to that has Sir Gavin Hamiltonreduced my mother; and he wanted me to go home and live with him—may the devil take him now and forever! My mother taught me also a little Latin, a little Spanish, and I myself learned a good deal of German from those Austrian allies of ours.”
“You far excel me,” responded St. Arnaud, “and yet I had the best teachers in France.”
At which Gavin replied proudly: “I can ask for wine in four languages.”
“I only wish you had a chance to ask for it in one—to make signs, for that matter.”
They rode on in silence for a few moments, when Gavin spoke again.
“My Captain,” he said in a coaxing voice, “I have something to ask of you—a favour—such a favour as a man asks but once in a lifetime.”
“Considering that my meeting you last night saved my life, I should feel a little awkward in refusing you anything I could grant.”
“It is this, then. You see, I have on this uniform. As long as I wear it the world thinks me an officer. Let me wear it, and let me dream myself a lieutenant until we reach the army of Prince Charles! Our regiment is scattered; it may never be reorganized; and as soon as we joinPrince Charles there will be fighting, and what glorious chances has a soldier then! Give me but one chance under fire, and I promise you I will come out of it so that I will be made an officer in truth.”
St. Arnaud stopped, amazed at Gavin’s presumption; but one look at his face, his eyes glowing with furious entreaty, checked the peremptory refusal upon his lips. Instead he said:
“You will be discovered.”
“Certainly; but a general who discovers a private soldier, by birth a gentleman, who is known to be brave and loyal—for that I am, and challenge any man to say nay—wishing and deserving to be an officer, will make him one. The French army is not like the Austrian, or even these pigs of Prussians.”
“You will discover yourself—betray yourself, in short, in whatever society you find yourself. No one will take you for an officer.”
“I think I told you I was the son of Lady Hamilton,” responded Gavin coldly.
St. Arnaud hesitated for a moment or two; then, with a brilliant smile, holding out his hand to Gavin, he said:
“Every word I have spoken was against theimpulse of my heart. You are an officer now, as far as I can make you; and trust me, when we reach Prince Charles, he shall hear your story first from me.”
Gavin, who was usually glib of speech, became silent under the influence of strong emotion. He only held St. Arnaud’s hand in a grip that was like steel. Presently releasing it, he said:
“My life is yours—I have nothing more now to offer.” Then, suddenly recovering himself, he cried joyfully: “Oh, that my mother could see me now! It fretted her proud soul to see me a private soldier, but she said no word. And if I only remember all she told me, I will prove myself a gentleman. She was, as I told you last night, always preparing me for something higher. She made me learn English table manners even when we had precious little to eat. And wash! Those English are mad about soap and water. My mother has washed me when I was a little lad until I shrieked for mercy; but scrub, wash, wash, scrub, every day, and twice a day. Illness, cold, nothing excused me from that infernal tub. But at last I got to like it; and now I like cold water as well as any whale that swims the Arctic seas. Here is the proof.”
Gavin produced with great pride a small, round lump tied with strings, and on the strings being cut, it expanded into a huge sponge.
“And this—and this—and this—” he added, handing out some coarse soap, a comb, and a razor.
For reply, St. Arnaud produced not only a sponge, but a small towel, a cake of scented soap, a silver comb, and a pearl-handled razor. Gavin’s eyes gleamed. “These will I have when I am an officer!” he cried.
They resumed their way. The joy that shone in Gavin’s face was contagious. St. Arnaud smiled at the thought that a suit of clothes and the hope of a sublieutenancy could give so much happiness to any one; but he did not know that it meant all which the young soldier coveted in life.
That day they entered a tract of country where an occasional house still stood; and they even found an inn, soon after midday, where they got a coarse but abundant meal. After that the aspect of the country steadily improved, and in the early winter dusk they found themselves approaching a comfortable country mansion with pleasure grounds around it. The windows were tightly barred, but smoke was pouring from one of the chimneys.
“Now, my young sublieutenant,” cried St. Arnaud, laughing, “we will find gentlepeople in this pleasant bivouac; and, remember, you are an officer. Don’t call me ‘my Captain,’ and whatever you do, don’t show any subservience to me. Contradict me occasionally, and when I say it is a certain time by my watch, say my watch is fast or slow—anything to show we are on an equality.”
“I will remember,” answered Gavin gravely.
Dismounting before the door, Gavin began a rat-tat-tat which sounded like an earthquake. There was no response, and after banging at the door for five minutes he walked around the corner of the house. There was a door leading into the kitchen quarters, but it, too, was closely fastened. The cold was becoming intense, and Gavin was about to return to St. Arnaud and discuss the propriety of breaking a window, when a man-servant appeared upon the scene. He did not observe Gavin in the half darkness, and, on hearing the heavy clump of the rustic’s shoes, the kitchen door opened an inch or two, and a maid, with a foolish, frightened face, whispered:
“Get the other one to help you with the wood-basket; we must have the wood in the house at once. But be quiet about it, for there has beena great pounding at the front door, and we don’t wish to let any one in.”
Gavin then noticed a great, two-handled basket piled with wood such as the huge stoves of the region required. The man went off to get help in lifting it, and an idea jumped into Gavin’s mind. “I’ll get in the house and open the door for St. Arnaud,” thought he; and as soon as the man’s back was turned he went to the basket, softly removed some of the wood, crawled in, and, artistically arranging a few sticks so as to conceal himself, waited some minutes. Then the servant, with another one, approached; a stout pole was run between the two handles, and the basket, with Gavin and the logs, was picked up, carried through the kitchen, then into a long corridor, and finally to the main entrance hall, where there was a vast porcelain stove. At that moment Gavin heard a light step descending the stairs, and an exquisitely sweet voice say:
“How can you let those poor creatures outside suffer in this cold? I order you to open the door immediately.”
“But, madame,” said the maid, who had followed, “we had express orders from the master and mistress to let no one in.”
At this moment the basket was let down, and in another instant Gavin, having disengaged himself with quiet dexterity from the wood, stepped out of the basket, and making his best bow, said in his best German: “Madame, I will obey your orders, if these louts will not,” and running to the door, drew the bolt, and in walked Captain St. Arnaud.
The two men-servants gaped in grotesque horror at the load they had brought in; the maid began to scream violently; only the lady retained her self-possession.
“To whom am I indebted,” she asked of Gavin with perfect composure, “for carrying out my orders with such unexpected promptness?”
“To Sublieutenant Gavin Hamilton, of Dufour’s regiment of dragoons, in the service of His Majesty of France,” replied Gavin with equal coolness, saying to himself meanwhile, “Aha! St. Arnaud will see that I have the composure of a gentleman.” Then he said, “Permit me, madame, to present Captain St. Arnaud of my regiment.”
St. Arnaud bowed with the utmost gravity, although immensely tickled at Gavin, and the three gentlepeople stood entirely at ease, while the three servants were completely disconcerted.
“I am Madame Ziska,” said the lady of the charming voice, speaking in French. “I am running away from the Prussians toward Vienna. This house belongs to acquaintances of mine, who have left it. The servants in charge, knowing me, gave me permission to remain the night here; and although I had no authority to let any one else in, I certainly should have opened the door had not Lieutenant Hamilton done so for me.”
Neither cold nor hunger nor flight had dulled either St. Arnaud’s or Gavin’s appreciation of beauty and charm. There was no great beauty in Madame Ziska, but an exquisite grace of bearing, a face full of expression, and a beautiful figure. She was one of those women whose age it was impossible to tell. She was, in truth, thirty, but she might have been twenty-five or thirty-five. Nor was her nationality apparent either in her appearance or her language, for her French was immaculate; and neither St. Arnaud nor Gavin Hamilton knew enough of the German language to judge of how she spoke it when she addressed the servants. St. Arnaud thought first of the poor beasts outside, and said to the men-servants: “Have our horses attended to at once, and look for either money or kicks, according to how you do it.”
The two men disappeared, and the maid, apparently profiting by the suggestion of money, said very respectfully:
“Supper is not yet ready, madame; and I will add something for these gentlemen,” and disappeared.
Madame Ziska then led the way to a small sitting-room, where a stove glowed, candles gleamed, and a table was set with linen and plate. She seated herself before the stove, and not until then did St. Arnaud and Gavin proceed to warm their chilled bodies. St. Arnaud watched Gavin closely, but with amusement, as if he were assisting at the first production of a new comedy, when he saw this young private soldier of nineteen masquerading as a gentleman. Gavin himself saw the joke, and St. Arnaud could not refrain from bursting out laughing when Gavin, surveying himself coolly in a mirror on the wall, remarked:
“Madame, I am indebted to my brother officer for these clothes—it is quite a story—and,sacre!I hardly know myself in this rig.”
“But,” thought St. Arnaud, “wait until supper is served. The table is a place to tell a man’s up-bringing.”
The door opened, and the servants entered,bringing with them a very good supper. Gavin rose instantly, and forestalled St. Arnaud in placing a chair for Madame Ziska, at which the captain’s heretofore smiling face assumed a scowl. There is such a thing as learning a lesson too well and too promptly. They seated themselves, and a very jolly supper party they made. Madame Ziska’s conversation proved as charming as her appearance. She talked with the utmost ease and apparent frankness, but of her own condition in life she said not a word. Yet, there was something convincingly honest about her; and St. Arnaud, who knew the world thoroughly, felt as much confidence in her as did the unsophisticated Gavin. He shrewdly suspected her to be a professional artist of some description, who possessed, by some chance, a higher degree of education and breeding than was usual in those times. He treated her, however, as if she had been a princess in her own right, and Madame Ziska accepted it with perfect dignity, as her just due.
Gavin had never before sat at table with an officer, and he watched St. Arnaud quite as closely as St. Arnaud watched him. He carried off his part wonderfully well, but it was not quite perfection. He laughed and talked too much, airing his sentimentsin the four languages he claimed to know, which, except English and French, he spoke very ungrammatically. St. Arnaud, pleasant but critical, noticed all, while Madame Ziska’s sweet, inscrutable smile revealed nothing. There was a harpsichord in the room, and as soon as they had finished supper St. Arnaud jumped up and, opening it, burst into a sentimental song, accompanying himself brilliantly. This was too much for Gavin, who was so charmed that he altogether forgot the part he was playing, and also the training his mother had given him, and acted as he would at a bivouac when a comrade sang a good song. In the excess of his enjoyment he sat down on the floor, close to the glowing stove, and after a while established himself comfortably at full length, his head resting on his elbows, which he dug into the carpet. St. Arnaud saw it all out of the tail of his eye, until Gavin, suddenly catching St. Arnaud’s amused glance fixed on him, jumped up, red and embarrassed.
“That is for not remembering what my mother told me,” he thought, with the deepest vexation. “However,” he reflected again, “I shall soon overcome the demoralization of camp manners in company like this,” and he demurely seated himself ona sofa. The song closed in a beautiful cadenza, but it was drowned in a tremendous tramping of hoofs, and the maid-servants rushed in, bawling:
“The Prussians! The Prussians!”
St. Arnaud’s and Gavin’s first sensation was one of stupid surprise. They had not thought a Prussian to be within fifty miles. Madame Ziska, however, showed not an instant’s discomposure. She at once opened the door of a closet in the room, saying, “It is strategy, not rashness, which is wanted now;” and almost pushing them in, she took the key out of the lock, and passed it to them in the inside. Then, seating herself nonchalantly, she trimmed the candles and took up a book to read.
It was so quickly done that neither St. Arnaud nor Gavin had a connected thought until they found themselves in the closet, nor could they recall which one locked the door. They gazed stupidly at each other in the half light which filtered through the glass doors lined with green silk; and then they found that, although concealed from sight themselves, they could yet see any one in the room through little holes in the moth-eaten silk behind the glass.
The sound of many feet entering the house was now heard, and in a moment more the door wasopened, and a Prussian officer ushered in, a short, slender man, wearing a shabby surtout and nondescript uniform. Several other officers followed; but from the moment the short, slender man entered, neither one of the prisoners in the closet, nor had Madame Ziska, eyes for any one but him.
His face was wan and weather-beaten, his nose high and prominent, and his brow and mouth rather unpleasing. But his gray-blue eyes redeemed an otherwise sinister face. They were exquisitely clear, soft yet sparkling, and their mild expression flatly contradicted the hardness and even cruelty of his other features.
He advanced to the stove, slightly and negligently saluting Madame Ziska, who rose and bowed. As he addressed no word to her, after standing a moment she quietly reseated herself. The other officers remained standing, and a shiver seemed to run through them at Madame Ziska’s action. The man in the nondescript uniform noticed it, and smiled faintly. He sat down, warmed his hands at the stove, while the officers stood rigidly at attention. Madame Ziska read diligently, and St. Arnaud and Gavin in the closet scarcely dared to breathe.
After five minutes of this the shabby man lookedaround him, made a slight motion with his hand, and every officer, saluting, filed out of the door, and he was left alone with Madame Ziska.
Madame Ziska continued to read. Presently the strange personage spoke to her in French, and in the clearest and sweetest voice imaginable.
“You have a great deal ofsang froid, madame.”
“One needs it in this bustling world,” replied Madame Ziska calmly, withdrawing her eyes for a moment from her book.
“Ahem!” A pause. “Your French is very good.”
“So is yours, monsieur.”
“It is the only language, after all.”
“You must be well up in the graces of His Majesty, the King of Prussia, who loves everything French, although he fights France.”
“Well, yes. You think me a major, or a colonel, perhaps, in the King’s body-guard.”
“Majors and colonels do not have the staff that came with you into this room just now. You are a general at least.”
“No. Higher.”
“A field-marshal?”
“Higher still.”
“Prince Henry of Prussia?”
“Prince Henry rises when I speak to him.”
Madame Ziska rose and made him a profound courtesy.
“Sire, you are the King of Prussia.”