“Undoubtedly; so Prince Kaunitz has promised St. Arnaud. And I have privately told St. Arnaud that if by any accident or intrigue it is refused, or even delayed, I will resign my commission at once and enlist again as a private soldier. But St. Arnaud will manage it. St. Arnaud has a great family connection in Paris. The Chancellor, Kaunitz, knows all about him—so trust St. Arnaud to do for you what he has done for me. He is the best friend with whom mortal man was ever blessed.”
“I long to see him again. When I arrived I was so overcome and agitated that I scarcely knew what I was saying; but I loved him before I ever saw him. And I love that good Madame Ziska—ah, Gavin, Gavin, how much good there is in the world!”
“Come,” cried Gavin, jumping up. “I hear the carriage at the door—Madame Ziska has returned from the opera-house—and where is St. Arnaud?”
Gavin ran in the other rooms of the apartment, shouting:
“St. Arnaud! Where are you? Come and see my mother;” but St. Arnaud was nowhere to be found. Gavin then escorted his mother to the floor below to meet Madame Ziska and her husband. In all the terrible privations, humiliations, and struggles of twenty years, Lady Hamilton had never lost the best part of her birthright—the air and manner of the high-bred Englishwoman. Her black gown was shabby and her slim hands roughened by the actual toil she had been compelled to do, but she was everywhere at ease, with that serene and graceful unconsciousness which is the mark of a person born to consideration. Madame Ziska, although born and bred in a far humbler position in life than the English gentlewoman, had been gifted with a natural refinement and good sense that was equal to all the advantages of birth and early education; so the two women, on meeting, had every reason to be mutually satisfied with the other.
Gavin very proudly introduced his mother as “Lady Ameeltone”—for he had not yet learned the true pronunciation of his own name—to Madame Ziska and Count Kalenga. Lady Hamilton took both of Madame Ziska’s hands in hers and said earnestly:
“How can I thank you enough for what you have done for my son?”
To which Madame Ziska replied in her more emotional and demonstrative way:
“Oh, madam, he is such a nice lad! And when I saw those two admirable young men that freezing night when we first met, my heart went out to them. At first they did not know whether I was married or a widow. I believe they thought at first I was a widow, they paid me so many gallant compliments, and all the time I was laughing to myself, thinking how their tone would change if they knew I had a husband and four big children snugly tucked away at home.”
“True,” cried Gavin with a grin. “We were sure that Madame Ziska was a young widow, she was so charming, and we felt quite flat when we found she regarded us merely as a couple of schoolboys to be helped out of a predicament.”