Gavin expected to be met with many urgings from St. Arnaud and Madame Ziska and Count Kalenga to be more conciliatory to his father, but they wisely said nothing. Every day Gavin went to see his mother, and every day, when he saw her the acknowledged mistress of his father’s house, it seemed as if his hatred to Sir Gavin was abating little by little. On the third day he met Sir Gavin as he was about to go out in his coach, and heard him say:
“Make my compliments to Lady Hamilton, and ask for the honour of her company to drive.”
The footman disappeared and returned.
“Lady Hamilton sends her compliments, and regrets she cannot accept Sir Gavin’s invitation. She is expecting Lieutenant Hamilton.”
Sir Gavin looked so cross and surprised that Gavin could not restrain a grin—he had never been able to smile at anything his father did before.
All this had not been unknown in Vienna society, and curiosity was at the highest pitch the night of the royal levee, when the strangely reconciled couple were to appear for the first time in public. Gavin and St. Arnaud were to be present—their first appearance after the campaign in which both had distinguished themselves. On the next day both were to return to their command at Olmutz. As they rolled along in a hired coach toward the royal palace St Arnaud said:
“How happy you should be! How I envy you!”
Gavin was surprised at this. St Arnaud was always cheerful, even gay, self-contained, and Gavin had thought a very happy man.
“Why should I not envy you? Compare your youth with mine.”
“True. But I have no one in the world to love or to love me. I have neither father nor mother nor brother nor sister. One day I will tell you some things that may make you pity me.”