“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 join Prince 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 the impulse 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: