Historical fiction; Oregon Territory -- History -- Fiction; United States -- History -- 1815-1861 -- Fiction
"You condemn me?" she asked at length. "Because I live alone, because
quiet rumor wags a tongue, you will judge me by your own creed and not
by mine?"
I hesitated before I answered, and deliberated. "Madam, I have already
told you that I would not. I say once more that I accredit you with
living up to your own creed, whatever that may have been."
She drew a long breath in turn. "Monsieur, you have done yourself no ill
turn in that."
"It was rumored in diplomatic circles, of course, that you were in touch
with the ministry of England," I ventured. "I myself saw that much."
"Naturally. Of Mexico also! At least, as you saw in our little carriage
race, Mexico was desirous enough to establish some sort of communication
with my humble self!"
"Calhoun was right!" I exclaimed. "He was entirely right, Madam, in
insisting that I should bring you to him that morning, whether or not
you wished to go."
"Whim fits with whim sometimes. `Twas his whim to see me, mine to go."
"I wonder what the Queen of Sheba would have said had Solomon met her
thus!"
She chuckled at the memory. "You see, when you left me at Mr. Calhoun's
door in care of the Grand Vizier James, I wondered somewhat at this
strange country of America. The _entresol_ was dim and the Grand Vizier
was slow with candles. I half fell into the room on the right. There was
Mr. Calhoun bolt upright in his chair, both hands spread out on the
arms. As you promised, he wore a red nightcap and long gown of wool. He
was asleep, and ah! how weary he seemed. Never have I seen a face so sad
as his, asleep. He was gray and thin, his hair was gray and thin, his
eyes were sunken, the veins were corded at his temples, his hands were
transparent. He was, as you promised me, old. Yet when I saw him I did
not smile. He heard me stir as I would have withdrawn, and when he arose
to his feet he was wide-awake. Monsieur, he is a great man; because,
even so clad he made no more apology than you do, showed no more
curiosity; and he welcomed me quite as a gentleman unashamed--as a king,
if you please."
"How did he receive you, Madam?" I asked. "I never knew."
"Why, took my hand in both his, and bowed as though I indeed were queen,
he a king."
"Then you got on well?"
"Truly; for he was wiser than his agent, Monsieur. He found answers by
asking questions."
"Ah, you were kinder to him than to me?"
"Naturally."
"For instance, he asked--"
"What had been my ball gown that night--who was there--how I enjoyed
myself! In a moment we were talking as though we had been friends for
years. The Grand Vizier brought in two mugs of cider, in each a toasted
apple. Monsieur, I have not seen diplomacy such as this. Naturally, I
was helpless."
"Did he perhaps ask how you were induced to come at so impossible a
time? My own vanity, naturally, leads me to ask so much as that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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