Book: 54 40 or Fight

E >> Emerson Hough >> 54 40 or Fight




"Nicholas," said Mr. Calhoun, "that lady was much impressed with you."
He regarded me calmly, contemplatively, appraisingly.

"I do not understand you," I reiterated.

"I am glad that you do not and did not. In that case, all would have
been over at once. You would never have seen her a second time. Your
constancy was our salvation, and perhaps your own!"

He smiled in a way I liked none too well, but now I began myself to
engage in certain reflections. Was it then true that faith could
purchase faith--and win not failure, but success?

"At least she has flown," went on Calhoun. "But why? What made her go?
'Tis all over now, unless, unless--unless--" he added to himself a third
time.

"But unless what?"

"Unless that chance word may have had some weight. You say that you and
she talked of _principles?_"

"Yes, we went so far into abstractions."

"So did I with her! I told her about this country; explained to her as I
could the beauties of the idea of a popular government. 'Twas as a
revelation to her. She had never known a republican government before,
student as she is. Nicholas, your long legs and my long head may have
done some work after all! How did she seem to part with you?"

"As though she hated me; as though she hated herself and all the world.
Yet not quite that, either. As though she would have wept--that is the
truth. I do not pretend to understand her. She is a puzzle such as I
have never known."

"Nor are you apt to know another her like. Look, here she is, the paid
spy, the secret agent, of England. Additionally, she is intimately
concerned with the private life of Mr. Pakenham. For the love of
adventure, she is engaged in intrigue also with Mexico. Not content with
that, born adventuress, eager devourer of any hazardous and interesting
intellectual offering, any puzzle, any study, any intrigue--she comes at
midnight to talk with me, whom she knows to be the representative of yet
a third power!"

"And finds you in your red nightcap!" I laughed.

"Did she speak of that?" asked Mr. Calhoun in consternation, raising a
hand to his head. "It may be that I forgot--but none the less, she came!

"Yes, as I said, she came, by virtue of your long legs and your ready
way, as I must admit; and you were saved from her only, as I
believe--Why, God bless Elisabeth Churchill, my boy, that is all! But my
faith, how nicely it all begins to work out!"

"I do not share your enthusiasm, Mr. Calhoun," said I bitterly. "On the
contrary, it seems to me to work out in as bad a fashion as could
possibly be contrived."

"In due time you will see many things more plainly. Meantime, be sure
England will be careful. She will make no overt movement, I should say,
until she has heard from Oregon; which will not be before my lady
baroness shall have returned and reported to Mr. Pakenham here. All of
which means more time for us."

I began to see something of the structure of bold enterprise which this
man deliberately was planning; but no comment offered itself; so that
presently, he went on, as though in soliloquy.

"The Hudson Bay Company have deceived England splendidly enough. Doctor
McLaughlin, good man that he is, has not suited the Hudson Bay Company.
His removal means less courtesy to our settlers in Oregon. Granted a
less tactful leader than himself, there will be friction with our
high-strung frontiersmen in that country. No man can tell when the thing
will come to an issue. For my own part, I would agree with Polk that we
ought to own that country to fifty-four forty--but what we _ought_ to do
and what we can do are two separate matters. Should we force the issue
now and lose, we would lose for a hundred years. Should we advance
firmly and hold firmly what we gain, in perhaps less than one hundred
years we may win _all_ of that country, as I just said to Mr. Polk, to
the River Saskatchewan--I know not where! In my own soul, I believe no
man may set a limit to the growth of the idea of an honest government by
the people. _And this continent is meant for that honest government!_"

"We have already a Monroe Doctrine, Mr. Calhoun," said I. "What you
enunciate now is yet more startling. Shall we call it the Calhoun
Doctrine?"

He made no answer, but arose and paced up and down, stroking the thin
fringe of beard under his chin. Still he seemed to talk with himself.

"We are not rich," he went on. "Our canals and railways are young. The
trail across our country is of monstrous difficulty. Give us but a few
years more and Oregon, ripe as a plum, would drop in our lap. To hinder
that is a crime. What Polk proposes is insincerity, and all insincerity
must fail. There is but one result when pretense is pitted against
preparedness. Ah, if ever we needed wisdom and self-restraint, we need
them now! Yet look at what we face! Look at what we may lose! And that
through party--through platform--through _politics_!"

He sighed as he paused in his walk and turned to me. "But now, as I
said, we have at least time for Texas. And in regard to Texas we need
another woman."

I stared at him.

"You come now to me with proof that my lady baroness traffics with
Mexico as well as England," he resumed. "That is to say, Yturrio meets
my lady baroness. What is the inference? At least, jealousy on the part
of Yturrio's wife, whether or not she cares for him! Now, jealousy
between the sexes is a deadly weapon if well handled. Repugnant as it
is, we must handle it."

I experienced no great enthusiasm at the trend of events, and Mr.
Calhoun smiled at me cynically as he went on. "I see you don't care for
this sort of commission. At least, this is no midnight interview. You
shall call in broad daylight on the Senora Yturrio. If you and my
daughter will take my coach and four to-morrow, I think she will gladly
receive your cards. Perhaps also she will consent to take the air of
Washington with you. In that case, she might drop in here for an ice. In
such case, to conclude, I may perhaps be favored with an interview with
that lady. I must have Van Zandt's signature to this treaty which you
see here!"

"But these are Mexicans, and Van Zandt is leader of the Texans, their
most bitter enemies!"

"Precisely. All the less reason why Senora Yturrio should be suspected."

"I am not sure that I grasp all this, Mr. Calhoun."

"Perhaps not You presently will know more. What seems to me plain is
that, since we seem to lose a valuable ally in the Baroness von Ritz, we
must make some offset to that loss. If England has one woman on the
Columbia, we must have another on the Rio Grande!"




CHAPTER XXI

POLITICS UNDER COVER

To a woman, the romances she makes are more amusing than those she
reads.--_Theophile Gautier_.


It was curious how cleverly this austere old man, unskilled in the arts
of gallantry, now handled the problem to which he had addressed himself,
even though that meant forecasting the whim of yet another woman. It all
came easily about, precisely as he had planned.

It seemed quite correct for the daughter of our secretary of state to
call to inquire for the health of the fair Senora Yturrio, and to
present the compliments of Madam Calhoun, at that time not in the city
of Washington. Matters went so smoothly that I felt justified in
suggesting a little drive, and Senora Yturrio had no hesitation in
accepting. Quite naturally, our stately progress finally brought us
close to the residence of Miss Calhoun. That lady suggested that, since
the day was warm, it might be well to descend and see if we might not
find a sherbet; all of which also seemed quite to the wish of the lady
from Mexico. The ease and warmth of Mr. Calhoun's greeting to her were
such that she soon was well at home and chatting very amiably. She spoke
English with but little hesitancy.

Lucrezia Yturrio, at that time not ill known in Washington's foreign
colony, was beautiful, in a sensuous, ripe way. Her hair was dark,
heavily coiled, and packed in masses above an oval forehead. Her brows
were straight, dark and delicate; her teeth white and strong; her lips
red and full; her chin well curved and deep. A round arm and taper hand
controlled a most artful fan. She was garbed now, somewhat splendidly,
in a corded cherry-colored silk, wore gems enough to start a shop, and
made on the whole a pleasing picture of luxury and opulence. She spoke
in a most musical voice, with eyes sometimes cast modestly down. He had
been a poor student of her species who had not ascribed to her a wit of
her own; but as I watched her, somewhat apart, I almost smiled as I
reflected that her grave and courteous host had also a wit to match it.
Then I almost frowned as I recalled my own defeat in a somewhat similar
contest.

Mr. Calhoun expressed great surprise and gratification that mere chance
had enabled him to meet the wife of a gentleman so distinguished in the
diplomatic service as Senor Yturrio. The Senora was equally gratified.
She hoped she did not make intrusion in thus coming. Mr. Calhoun assured
her that he and his were simple in their family life, and always
delighted to meet their friends.

"We are especially glad always to hear of our friends from the
Southwest," said he, at last, with a slight addition of formality in
tone and attitude.

At these words I saw my lady's eyes flicker. "It is fate, Senor," said
she, again casting down her eyes, and spreading out her hands as in
resignation, "fate which left Texas and Mexico not always one."

"That may be," said Mr. Calhoun. "Perhaps fate, also, that those of kin
should cling together."

"How can a mere woman know?" My lady shrugged her very graceful and
beautiful shoulders--somewhat mature shoulders now, but still beautiful.

"Dear Senora," said Mr. Calhoun, "there are so many things a woman may
not know. For instance, how could she know if her husband should
perchance leave the legation to which he was attached and pay a visit to
another nation?"

Again the slight flickering of her eyes, but again her hands were
outspread in protest.

"How indeed, Senor?"

"What if my young aide here, Mr. Trist, should tell you that he has seen
your husband some hundreds of miles away and in conference with a lady
supposed to be somewhat friendly towards--"

"Ah, you mean that baroness--!"

So soon had the shaft gone home! Her woman's jealousy had offered a
point unexpectedly weak. Calhoun bowed, without a smile upon his face.

"Mr. Pakenham, the British minister, is disposed to be friendly to this
same lady. Your husband and a certain officer of the British Navy called
upon this same lady last week in Montreal--informally. It is sometimes
unfortunate that plans are divulged. To me it seemed only wise and fit
that you should not let any of these little personal matters make for us
greater complications in these perilous times. I think you understand
me, perhaps, Senora Yturrio?"

She gurgled low in her throat at this, any sort of sound, meaning to
remain ambiguous. But Calhoun was merciless.

"It is not within dignity, Senora, for me to make trouble between a lady
and her husband. But we must have friends with us under our flag, or
know that they are not our friends. You are welcome in my house. Your
husband is welcome in the house of our republic. There are certain
duties, even thus."

Only now and again she turned upon him the light of her splendid eyes,
searching him.

"If I should recall again, gently, my dear Senora, the fact that your
husband was with that particular woman--if I should say, that Mexico has
been found under the flag of England, while supposed to be under _our_
flag--if I should add that one of the representatives of the Mexican
legation had been discovered in handing over to England certain secrets
of this country and of the Republic of Texas--why, then, what answer,
think you, Senora, Mexico would make to me?"

"But Senor Calhoun does not mean--does not dare to say--"

"I do dare it; I do mean it! I can tell you all that Mexico plans, and
all that Texas plans. All the secrets are out; and since we know them,
we purpose immediate annexation of the Republic of Texas! Though it
means war, Texas shall be ours! This has been forced upon us by the
perfidy of other nations."

He looked her full in the eye, his own blue orbs alight with resolution.
She returned his gaze, fierce as a tigress. But at last she spread out
her deprecating hands.

"Senor," she said, "I am but a woman. I am in the Senor Secretary's
hands. I am even in his _hand_. What can he wish?"

"In no unfair way, Senora, I beg you to understand, in no improper way
are you in our hands. But now let us endeavor to discover some way in
which some of these matters may be composed. In such affairs, a small
incident is sometimes magnified and taken in connection with its
possible consequences. You readily may see, Senora, that did I
personally seek the dismissal of your husband, possibly even the recall
of General Almonte, his chief, that might be effected without
difficulty."

"You seek war, Senor Secretary! My people say that your armies are in
Texas now, or will be."

"They are but very slightly in advance of the truth, Senora," said
Calhoun grimly. "For me, I do not believe in war when war can be
averted. But suppose it _could_ be averted? Suppose the Senora Yturrio
herself _could_ avert it? Suppose the Senora could remain here still, in
this city which she so much admires? A lady of so distinguished beauty
and charm is valuable in our society here."

He bowed to her with stately grace. If there was mockery in his tone,
she could not catch it; nor did her searching eyes read his meaning.

"See," he resumed, "alone, I am helpless in this situation. If my
government is offended, I can not stop the course of events. I am not
the Senate; I am simply an officer in our administration--a very humble
officer of his Excellency our president, Mr. Tyler."

My lady broke out in a peal of low, rippling laughter, her white teeth
gleaming. It was, after all, somewhat difficult to trifle with one who
had been trained in intrigue all her life.

Calhoun laughed now in his own quiet way. "We shall do better if we deal
entirely frankly, Senora," said he. "Let us then waste no time.
Frankly, then, it would seem that, now the Baroness von Ritz is off the
scene, the Senora Yturrio would have all the better title and
opportunity in the affections of--well, let us say, her own husband!"

She bent toward him now, her lips open in a slow smile, all her subtle
and dangerous beauty unmasking its batteries. The impression she
conveyed was that of warmth and of spotted shadows such as play upon the
leopard's back, such as mark the wing of the butterfly, the petal of
some flower born in a land of heat and passion. But Calhoun regarded her
calmly, his finger tips together, and spoke as deliberately as though
communing with himself. "It is but one thing, one very little thing."

"And what is that, Senor?" she asked at length.

"The signature of Senor Van Zandt, attache for Texas, on this memorandum
of treaty between the United States and Texas."

Bowing, he presented to her the document to which he had earlier
directed my own attention. "We are well advised that Senor Van Zandt is
trafficking this very hour with England as against us," he explained.
"We ask the gracious assistance of Senora Yturrio. In return we promise
her--silence!"

"I can not--it is impossible!" she exclaimed, as she glanced at the
pages. "It is our ruin--!"

"No, Senora," said Calhoun sternly; "it means annexation of Texas to the
United States. But that is not your ruin. It is your salvation. Your
country well may doubt England, even England bearing gifts!"

"I have no control over Senor Van Zandt--he is the enemy of my country!"
she began.

Calhoun now fixed upon her the full cold blue blaze of his singularly
penetrating eyes. "No, Senora," he said sternly; "but you have access to
my friend Mr. Polk, and Mr. Polk is the friend of Mr. Jackson, and they
two are friends of Mr. Van Zandt; and Texas supposes that these two,
although they do not represent precisely my own beliefs in politics, are
for the annexation of Texas, not to England, but to America. There is
good chance Mr. Polk may be president. If you do not use your personal
influence with him, he may consult politics and not you, and so declare
war against Mexico. That war would cost you Texas, and much more as
well. Now, to avert that war, do you not think that perhaps you can ask
Mr. Polk to say to Mr. Van Zandt that his signature on this little
treaty would end all such questions simply, immediately, and to the best
benefit of Mexico, Texas and the United States? Treason? Why, Senora,
'twould be preventing treason!"

Her face was half hidden by her fan, and her eyes, covered by their
deep lids, gave no sign of her thoughts. The same cold voice went on:

"You might, for instance, tell Mr. Polk, which is to say Mr. Van Zandt,
that if his name goes on this little treaty for Texas, nothing will be
said to Texas regarding his proposal to give Texas over to England. It
might not be safe for that little fact generally to be known in Texas as
it is known to me. We will keep it secret. You might ask Mr. Van Zandt
if he would value a seat in the Senate of these United States, rather
than a lynching rope! So much do I value your honorable acquaintance
with Mr. Polk and with Mr. Van Zandt, my dear lady, that I do not go to
the latter and _demand_ his signature in the name of his republic--no, I
merely suggest to you that did _you_ take this little treaty for a day,
and presently return it to me with his signature attached, I should feel
so deeply gratified that I should not ask you by what means you had
attained this most desirable result! And I should hope that if you could
not win back the affections of a certain gentleman, at least you might
win your own evening of the scales with him."

Her face colored darkly. In a flash she saw the covert allusion to the
faithless Pakenham. Here was the chance to cut him to the soul. _She
could cost England Texas!_ Revenge made its swift appeal to her savage
heart. Revenge and jealousy, handled coolly, mercilessly as
weapons--those cost England Texas!

She sat, her fan tight at her white teeth. "It would be death to me if
it were known," she said. But still she pondered, her eye alight with
somber fire, her dark cheek red in a woman's anger.

"But it never will be known, my dear lady. These things, however, must
be concluded swiftly. We have not time to wait. Let us not argue over
the unhappy business. Let me think of Mexico as our sister republic and
our friend!"

"And suppose I shall not do this that you ask, Senor?"

"That, my dear lady, _I do not suppose!_"

"You threaten, Senor Secretary?"

"On the contrary, I implore! I ask you not to be treasonable to any, but
to be our ally, our friend, in what in my soul I believe a great good
for the peoples of the world. Without us, Texas will be the prey of
England. With us, she will be working out her destiny. In our graveyard
of state there are many secrets of which the public never knows. Here
shall be one, though your heart shall exult in its possession. Dear
lady, may we not conspire together--for the ultimate good of three
republics, making of them two noble ones, later to dwell in amity? Shall
we not hope to see all this continent swept free of monarchy, held
_free_, for the peoples of the world?"

For an instant, no more, she sat and pondered. Suddenly she bestowed
upon him a smile whose brilliance might have turned the head of another
man. Rising, she swept him a curtsey whose grace I have not seen
surpassed.

In return, Mr. Calhoun bowed to her with dignity and ease, and, lifting
her hand, pressed it to his lips. Then, offering her an arm, he led her
to his carriage. I could scarce believe my eyes and ears that so much,
and of so much importance, had thus so easily been accomplished, where
all had seemed so near to the impossible.

When last I saw my chief that day he was sunk in his chair, white to the
lips, his long hands trembling, fatigue written all over his face and
form; but a smile still was on his grim mouth. "Nicholas," said he, "had
I fewer politicians and more women behind me, we should have Texas to
the Rio Grande, and Oregon up to Russia, and all without a war!"




CHAPTER XXII

BUT YET A WOMAN

Woman turns every man the wrong side out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
--_Shakespeare_.


My chief played his game of chess coldly, methodically, and with skill;
yet a game of chess is not always of interest to the spectator who does
not know every move. Least of all does it interest one who feels himself
but a pawn piece on the board and part of a plan in whose direction he
has nothing to say. In truth, I was weary. Not even the contemplation of
the hazardous journey to Oregon served to stir me. I traveled wearily
again and again my circle of personal despair.

On the day following my last interview with Mr. Calhoun, I had agreed to
take my old friend Doctor von Rittenhofen upon a short journey among the
points of interest of our city, in order to acquaint him somewhat with
our governmental machinery and to put him in touch with some of the
sources of information to which he would need to refer in the work upon
which he was now engaged. We had spent a couple of hours together, and
were passing across to the capitol, with the intent of looking in upon
the deliberations of the houses of Congress, when all at once, as we
crossed the corridor, I felt him touch my arm.

"Did you see that young lady?" he asked of me. "She looked at you,
yess?"

I was in the act of turning, even as he spoke. Certainly had I been
alone I would have seen Elisabeth, would have known that she was there.

It was Elisabeth, alone, and hurrying away! Already she was approaching
the first stair. In a moment she would be gone. I sprang after her by
instinct, without plan, clear in my mind only that she was going, and
with her all the light of the world; that she was going, and that she
was beautiful, adorable; that she was going, and that she was Elisabeth!

As I took a few rapid steps toward her, I had full opportunity to see
that no grief had preyed upon her comeliness, nor had concealment fed
upon her damask cheek. Almost with some resentment I saw that she had
never seemed more beautiful than on this morning. The costume of those
days was trying to any but a beautiful woman; yet Elisabeth had a way of
avoiding extremes which did not appeal to her individual taste. Her
frock now was all in pink, as became the gentle spring, and the bunch of
silvery ribbons which fluttered at her belt had quite the agreeing
shade to finish in perfection the cool, sweet picture that she made. Her
sleeves were puffed widely, and for the lower arm were opened just
sufficiently. She carried a small white parasol, with pinked edges, and
her silken mitts, light and dainty, matched the clear whiteness of her
arms. Her face, turned away from me, was shaded by a wide round bonnet,
not quite so painfully plain as the scooplike affair of the time, but
with a drooping brim from which depended a slight frilling of sheer
lace. Her smooth brown hair was drawn primly down across her ears, as
was the fashion of the day, and from the masses piled under the bonnet
brim there fell down a curl, round as though made that moment, and not
yet limp from the damp heat of Washington. Fresh and dainty and restful
as a picture done on Dresden, yet strong, fresh, fully competent,
Elisabeth walked as having full right in the world and accepting as her
due such admiration as might be offered. If she had ever known a care,
she did not show it; and, I say, this made me feel resentment. It was
her proper business to appear miserable.

If she indeed resembled a rare piece of flawless Dresden on this
morning, she was as cold, her features were as unmarked by any human
pity. Ah! so different an Elisabeth, this, from the one I had last seen
at the East Room, with throat fluttering and cheeks far warmer than
this cool rose pink. But, changed or not, the full sight of her came as
the sudden influence of some powerful drug, blotting out consciousness
of other things. I could no more have refrained from approaching her
than I could have cast away my own natural self and form. Just as she
reached the top of the broad marble stairs, I spoke.

"Elisabeth!"

Seeing that there was no escape, she paused now and turned toward me. I
have never seen a glance like hers. Say not there is no language of the
eyes, no speech in the composure of the features. Yet such is the Sphinx
power given to woman, that now I saw, as though it were a thing
tangible, a veil drawn across her eyes, across her face, between her
soul and mine.

Elisabeth drew herself up straight, her chin high, her eyes level, her
lips just parted for a faint salutation in the conventions of the
morning.

"How do you do?" she remarked. Her voice was all cool white enamel. Then
that veil dropped down between us.

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