Among those watching it, in the crowd of diplomats, was a slight but singularly high-bred looking man, evidently an Englishman. He sat in a plain but handsome coach, magnificently horsed. All who saw the parade and the outburst of affectionate loyalty toward the Empress Queen were affected to a certain degree by it except this English gentleman. He, however, regarded it all with a cool smile, and did not speak except to make some disparaging remark to an officer in an English uniform who sat on horseback next the coach.
As the end of the columns drew near there was a new and sudden outburst of cheering heard afar off, mixed with laughter; the multitudes of people had evidently seen something to both please and amuse them. It was so noticeable that the Archduke Charles sent an aide riding down the line, who came back smiling. He approached the Empress Queen and the Emperor, and said something which caused them both to smile, too. At the same moment the last detachment of troops was passing, and directly behind them came a country cart, drawn by a sorry horse. On a plank laid across the cart sat Gavin Hamilton, driving. He still wore the enormous chapeau and cloak of General Kollnitz. The huge hat was pushed back, showing his handsome bronzed face, his white teeth gleaming in a perpetual smile; while he awkwardly held up the huge cloak in handling the coarse rope reins.
Sitting in solitary magnificence in the body of the cart was St. Arnaud, dressed in Pfels’ hat and cloak. He sat flat, with his shapely legs stretched stiffly out before him, and, in contrast to Gavin’s boyish grins of delight, St. Arnaud was as perfectly grave and composed as if in attendance upon royalty. The crowds had found out who they were, and shouts resounded, and cries were bandied about.
“There they are, in the disguise they escaped in! They say that Frederick was so angry when he heard of their getting away that he burst a blood-vessel!”
“And poor old Kollnitz took to his bed with chagrin, and has never left it since!” called out another.
The English gentleman turned to the officer on horseback and said:
“What children are these Viennese! Because a couple of officers make a clever escape, and appear riding in a cart, these childish people go wild with delight. Depend upon it, it is neither the escape nor the men who matter—it is the cart and horse which pleases them.”
“You scarcely do the Viennese justice, Sir Gavin,” replied the officer, standing up in his stirrups to look as the cart approached. “I recognise young St. Arnaud of Dufour’s regiment as the officer sitting down; but who is the younger one—evidently St. Arnaud’s junior—who is driving?”
Sir Gavin Hamilton stood up in the coach and looked attentively at the cart, which was then passing the royal party. Gavin brought the horse to a standstill, stood up, as did St. Arnaud, and both respectfully saluted the Empress Queen.
“That younger man,” said Sir Gavin, with the utmost nonchalance, “is my son. He is not my heir, however.”