The Purchase Price - Emerson Hough (the unexpected everything TXT) 📗

which could be invoked to dismiss her from a capital where, though unwelcome, she has a right to remain. I may be unwelcome to you, you to me, either of us to any man; yet, having done no treason, so long as we pay our debts and observe the law, no man may raise hand or voice against us."

"Quite right!" broke in the leader again. "But let us look simply at the gravity of it. They say it is treason not only against our own country but against a foreign power which this woman is fomenting. The Austrian attache, Mr. Hulsemann, is altogether rabid over the matter. He said to me privately—"

"Then most improperly!" broke in the tall dark man.

"Improperly, but none the less, insistently, he said that his government will not tolerate her reception here. He charges her with machinations in Europe, under cover of President Taylor's embassy of investigation into Hungarian affairs. He declares that Russia and Austria are one in their plans. That, I fear, means also England, as matters now stand in Europe."

"But, sir," broke in the vibrant voice of a gentleman who sat at the left of the speaker, concealed in the shadow cast by the heavy window drapings, "what is our concern over that? It is our boast that this is a free country. As for England, we have taken her measure, once in full, a second time at least in part; and as for Austria or Russia, what have we to do with their territorial designs? Did they force us to fight, why, then, we might fight, and with proper reason."

"True again, sir!" said the leader, recognizing the force of the murmur which greeted this outburst. "It is not any of these powers that I fear. They might bluster, and still not fight; and indeed they lack any rational cause for war. But what I fear, what all of us fear, gentlemen, is the danger here, inside our own walls, inside our own country."

Silence again fell on all. They looked about them, as though even in this dimly lighted room they felt the presence of that ominous shadow which lay over all the land—the menace of a divided country.

"That is the dread of all of us," went on the leader. "The war with Mexico showed us where England stands. She proved herself once more our ancient enemy, showed that her chief desire is to break this republic. Before that war, and after it, she has cultivated a friendship with the South. Why? Now let the abolitionist bring on this outbreak which he covets, let the North and South fly at each other's throats, let the contending powers of Europe cross the seas to quarrel over the spoils of our own destruction—and what then will be left of this republic? And yet, if this compromise between North and South be broken as all Europe desires, and as all the North threatens, precisely those matters will come hurrying upon us. And they will find us divided, incapable of resistance. That is the volcano, the magazine, over which we dwell continually. It passes politics, and puts us as patriots upon the question of the endurance of our republic.

"And I tell you now, gentlemen," he concluded, "as you know very well yourselves, that this woman, here in Washington, would hold the match ready to apply to that magazine. Which of you does not see its glimmering? Which of you doubts her readiness? There was not twenty-four hours to argue the matter of her—her temporary absence. We'd have had Austria all about our ears, otherwise. Gentlemen, I am mild as any, and most of any I am sworn to obey the laws, and to guarantee the safeguards of the Constitution; but I say to you—" and here his hand came down with an emphasis unusual in his nature—"law or no law, Constitution or no Constitution, an exigency existed under which she had to leave Washington, and that upon that very night."

"But where is she now?" ventured another voice. "This young army captain simply says in his report that he left her on the Mount Vernon packet, en route down the Ohio. Where is she now; and how long before she will be back here, match in hand?"

"It is the old, old case of Eve!" sighed one, who leaned a bony arm upon the walnut, and who spoke in the soft accents which proclaimed him of the South. "Woman! It is only the old Garden over again. Trouble, thy name is Woman!"

"And specifically, its name is Josephine, Countess St. Auban!" drawled another, opposite. A smile went around among these grave and dignified men; indeed, a light laugh sounded somewhere in the shadow. The face of the leader relaxed, though not sufficiently to allow light comment. The dark man at the right spoke.

"The great Napoleon was right," said he. "He never ceased to prove how much he dreaded woman at any juncture of public affairs. Indeed, he said that all the public places of the government should be closed to them, that they should be set apart and distinguished from the managers of affairs."

"And so do we say it!" broke in the leader. "With all my heart, I say it."

The tall man bowed, "It was the idea of Napoleon that woman should be distinguished always by a veil and gown, a uniform of unworthiness and of danger. True, Napoleon based his ideas on his studies in the Orient. Us he accused of treating woman much too well. He declared woman, by virtue of her birth, to be made as man's inferior and his slave, and would tolerate no other construction of the relation of the sexes. According to Napoleon, women tyrannize over us Americans, whereas we should tyrannize over them. It was plain, in his conception, that the main province of woman is in making fools of men."

"In some ways, Napoleon was a thoughtful man," remarked, a voice to the left; and once more a half subdued smile went around.

"I yield to no man in my admiration for the fair sex—" began the tall, dark man. The smile broke into open laughter. The leader rapped sharply on the table edge, frowning. The tall man bowed once more, as he resumed.

"—but, viewed from the standpoint, of our diplomacy, the matter here is simple. Last week, at the reception where the representatives of Austria were present this woman appeared, properly introduced, properly invited, it is true, but wholly unwelcome socially, in certain quarters. The attache and his wife left the roof, and made plain to their host their reasons for doing so."

"Yes, and it was public shame that they should take such action. The woman had the right of her host's protection, for she was there by invitation!" Thus the bony man in the shadows.

Again the leader rapped on the table. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" he began, not wholly humorously. "Let us have a care. Let us at least not divide into factions here. We all of us, I trust, can remember the case of Peggy O'Neil, who split Washington asunder not so long ago. She was the wife of one of President Jackson's cabinet members, yet when she appeared upon a ball-room floor, all the ladies left it. It was Jackson and Eaton against the world. That same situation to-day, granted certain conditions, might mean a war which would disrupt this Union. In fact, I consider Josephine St. Auban to-day more dangerous than Mrs. Eaton at her worst."

"But we have just heard what rights we have before the law, sir," ventured a hesitating, drawling voice, which had earlier been heard. "How can we take cognizance of private insult given by a foreign power in only quasi-public capacity? I conceive it to be somewhat difficult, no matter what the reception in the society of Washington, to eject this woman from the city of Washington itself; or at least, very likely difficult to keep her ejected, as you say, sir."

"Where should she go?" demanded yet another voice. "And why should she not come back?"

Impatiently, the leader replied: "Where? I do not know. I do not want to know. I must not know! Good God, must we not bear ourselves in mind?"

"Then, sir, in case of her sudden return, you ask an agent?" said a
keen, clear, and incisive voice, which had not yet been heard.
"Gentlemen, shall we cast lots for the honor of watching the
Countess St. Auban in case of her undesired return?"

The grim demand brought out a hasty protest from a timid soul: "To that, I would not agree." A sort of shuffle, a stir, a shifting in seats seemed to take place all about the table.

"Very well, then," went on the clear voice, "let us employ euphemism in terms and softness in methods. If we may not again kidnap the lady, why may we not bribe her?"

"It could not be done," broke in the dark man toward the head of the table. "If I know the facts, this woman could not be bought for any ransom. She has both station and wealth accorded her, so the story goes, for some service of her family in the affairs of France. But she will none of monarchies. She turned democrat, revolutionist, in France, and on the hotter stage of Hungary—and so finally sought this new world to conquer. She is no artless miss, but a woman of the world, brilliant and daring, with ideas of her own about a world-democracy. She is perhaps devout, or penitent!"

"Nay, let us go softly," came the rejoinder from the shadows. "Woman is man's monarch only part of the time. We need some man who is a nice judge of psychological moments and nicely suited methods. We stand, all of us, for the compromise of 1850. That compromise is not yet complete. The question of this unwelcome lady still remains to be adjusted. Were Mr. Clay not quite so old, I might suggest his name for this last and most crucial endeavor of a long and troublous life!"

"By the Eternal Jove!" broke in the dark man at the right, shaking off the half-moodiness which had seemed to possess him. "When it comes to wheedling, age is no such bar. I call to mind one man who could side with Old Hickory in the case of Mrs. Peggy Eaton. I mean him whom we call the Old Fox of the North."

"He was a widower, even then, and hence immune," smiled the man across the table. "Now he is many years older."

"Yet, none the less a widower, and all the more an adjuster of nice matters. He has proven himself a politician. It was his accident and not his fault not to remain with us in our party! Yet I happen to know that though once defeated for the presidency and twice for the nomination, he remains true to his Free Soil beliefs. It has just occurred to me, since our friend from Kentucky mentions it, that could we by some fair means, some legal means—some means of adjustment and compromise, if you please, gentlemen,—place this young lady under the personal care of this able exponent of the suaviter in modo, and induce him to conduct her, preferably to some unknown point beyond the Atlantic Ocean, there to lose her permanently, we should perhaps be doing our country a service, and would also be relieving this administration of one of its gravest concerns. Best of all, we should be using a fox for a cat's-paw, something which has not often been done."

The matter-of-fact man who presided straightened his shoulders as though with relief at some sign of action; yet he did not relax his insistent gravity sufficiently to join the smile that followed this sally.

"Let us be sure, gentlemen, of one thing at a time," he resumed. "As we come to this final measure suggested by our friend from Kentucky, I am at a loss how further to proceed. What we do can not be made public. We can not sign a joint note asking this distinguished gentleman to act as our intermediary."

"At the time of the ratification of the Constitution by the convention of 1787," began the dark man who had earlier spoken, "there arose a difficulty as to the