“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 been a great pounding at the front door, and we don’t wish to let any one in.”