"But you, Madam--you seem differently situated here. I am very glad to find it so." Carlisle was eager, flushed, frankly admiring. "Yes, I scarce know which side the sea I belong. You know, I am half American, though my people lived abroad, in diplomatic work. By President Taylor I was chosen as one of the members of the Hungarian commission sent over by America to look into the cause of Hungary. In return, last year I had the honor of being asked to come to this country as one of the commission despatched to America in the interest of Hungary. I came over a certain time in advance, for reasons of my own. Meantime, I have had, it seems--well, call them adventures! I am not eager they should be known here. But if you like, you may call on me at my hotel--to-morrow?" Both recognized a slight additional trace of hauteur in the deportment of the woman whom they now accosted. She herself saw a sort of hesitation on the part of Carlisle. "I can't let you make any mistake about me," he began presently. "How do you mean?" "You are probably not advised about me. I'm a person of no consequence." "An officer of his country's army can not say that of himself." "But, I am no longer an officer of any army. I have been court-martialed--for my conduct there--you know--that fight at St. Genevieve. My abolitionist tendencies have always made me _persona non grata_ in my own mess. There's been all sort of pressure brought on me to drop it. Now the government itself, not wishing these things to come to a focus, has ordered me to a court-martial. Very well, I've been sentenced. My parole is ended, for the law has acted on my conduct. Rather than go back many steps in rank, I have thrown up my commission. This morning I resigned. I am wearing my uniform, I don't doubt, for the last time." "And that, although you fought in the cause of freedom! Although you have fought honorably in an earlier war! Is it not horrible!" "I could not do otherwise," said he simply. "I have no regrets." "But don't you see,"--she turned upon him suddenly--"it only leaves you all the more free!" "I can not understand you." "Will it not give you and your friend, Lieutenant Kammerer here, precisely the opportunity you've wished?" "Still I do not follow you." "My dear Countess," ventured the German, "I'll go anywhere under your orders. You may be sure of that." She turned from them. "Come to my hotel, will you not, to-morrow? I may have something to say to you." Thus she passed back into the throng, and into the arms of fickle and repentant Washington, which marveled when she danced, flushed, excited, yet absorbed, with the gallant old general, himself intoxicated by the music and by all this warm talk of freedom, of equality, of democracy,--in Washington! CHAPTER XXIV IN THE NAME OF ALTRUISM