Gavin was again surprised, but more wounded than surprised. He loved St. Arnaud with the devoted affection of his nature, full of enthusiasm, and without having lost a single illusion; and to have St. Arnaud speak of himself as unloved and unloving cut him to the heart. He said nothing, and St. Arnaud’s next words reassured him.
“That meeting in the snow was as fortunate for me as it was for you; it gave me interests, affections; for what I said just now meant that I was cut off from those natural ties that give life most of its charm. I have many comrades—what are called friends—but, except yourself, there is not one who feels very near to me. I do not know why it is so. I was ever ready to make friends, but I only know that you are the one person who knows my inmost thoughts, the one person to whom I can ever tell the story of my life.”
“Well, then, tell it to me whenever you like,” cried Gavin joyously. “And all I can say is, if you have an enemy, let him beware of me!”
The levee was exceptionally brilliant, and the event of the evening was undoubtedly the appearance together of Sir Gavin and Lady Hamilton. Gavin, in a fever of excitement, pride, joy, triumph, and nervousness, waited to see them enter the grand saloon where the Empress Queen and Emperor received. Presently they were seen advancing—Lady Hamilton radiant in the beauty of her youth, which seemed to have returned to her, and Sir Gavin as cool and unconcerned as if a reconciliation with his wife were no more than rejoining her after a journey. Prince Kaunitz remarked confidentially to his intimate, the French ambassador:
“What a loss, monsieur, to diplomacy is Sir Gavin Hamilton! Observe his composure, and see how he outwits all of his enemies by doing the unexpected thing in the unexpected manner. I understand he made no move to keep Lady Hamilton with him permanently until she informed him she should leave his house immediately he performed this act of restitution; but as soon as he found that out, he has been using all his endeavours to make her stay. If she remains with him, she can make her position entirely secure and agreeable by occasionally offering to leave him. The rule of Sir Gavin Hamilton’s life is the rule of contrary.”
By St. Arnaud’s artful manœuvring, Gavin found himself directly behind his father and mother when they made their obeisance to royalty. The Empress Queen, who knew the circumstances perfectly well, was peculiarly gracious to Lady Hamilton, as was the Emperor.
“Permit me to congratulate you upon your son, Lieutenant Hamilton,” she said, with her charming smile and an air of imperial grace. “General Loudon has spoken of him to the Emperor and myself with great praise. It is to such young officers as he that we look for our safety and that of our children.”
“My son ever considers it an honour to serve your Majesties,” was Lady Hamilton’s reply; and behind her was Gavin, blushing, confused, only half hearing the Empress Queen’s kind words to him, but wholly happy.
At midnight, under a brilliant moon, Gavin and St. Arnaud stood together in the silent street before Sir Gavin Hamilton’s splendid house. The great door was slightly ajar, and occasionally Lady Hamilton’s figure passed in front of it.
“Go in,” said St. Arnaud, in a quiet, determined voice. “Your father has asked you; your mother pleaded with you with her eyes. This is the turning-point. Go in for your mother’s sake.”