Historical fiction; Oregon Territory -- History -- Fiction; United States -- History -- 1815-1861 -- Fiction
She only smiled, showing two rows of exceedingly even white teeth. She
was perfect mistress of herself. In years she was not my equal, yet I
could see that at the time I did scarcely more than amuse her.
"Be seated, pray," she said at last. "Let us talk over this matter."
Obedient to her gesture, I dropped into a chair opposite to her, she
herself not varying her posture and still regarding me with the laugh
in her half-closed eyes.
"What do you think of my little place?" she asked finally.
"Two things, Madam," said I, half sternly. "If it belonged to a man, and
to a minister plenipotentiary, I should not approve it. If it belonged
to a lady of means and a desire to see the lands of this little world, I
should approve it very much."
She looked at me with eyes slightly narrowed, but no trace of
perturbation crossed her face. I saw it was no ordinary woman with whom
we had to do.
"But," I went on, "in any case and at all events, I should say that the
bird confined in such a cage, where secrecy is so imperative, would at
times find weariness--would, in fact, wish escape to other employment.
You, Madam"--I looked at her directly--"are a woman of so much intellect
that you could not be content merely to live."
"No," she said, "I would not be content merely to live."
"Precisely. Therefore, since to make life worth the living there must be
occasionally a trifle of spice, a bit of adventure, either for man or
woman, I suggest to you, as something offering amusement, this little
journey with me to-night to meet my chief. You have his message. I am
his messenger, and, believe me, quite at your service in any way you may
suggest. Let us be frank. If you are agent, so am I. See; I have come
into your camp. Dare you not come into ours? Come; it is an adventure to
see a tall, thin old man in a dressing-gown and a red woolen nightcap.
So you will find my chief; and in apartments much different from these."
She took up the missive with its broken seal. "So your chief, as you
call him, asks me to come to him, at midnight, with you, a stranger?"
"Do you not believe in charms and in luck, in evil and good fortune,
Madam?" I asked her. "Now, it is well to be lucky. In ordinary
circumstances, as you say, I could not have got past yonder door. Yet
here I am. What does it augur, Madam?"
"But it is night!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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