Two days later I dined at one of the
great Bonapartist houses. I was late, and as
the guests were about to go to dinner, our hostess
said, “Let me present you to a fellow countrywoman,
M. Greville of the American Legation Mme.
Bellegarde.” I was so taken aback that I
could hardly find words to speak to her until we sat
down together at dinner. She, too, was equally
agitated. I talked awhile to my left-hand neighbor,
but presently her adjoining table companion spoke
to her and being thus set free, I said to Mme.
Bellegarde in English, speaking low:
“You are my countrywoman, and
are, as I know, in trouble. What is it?
After we met I learned your name, but I have been prudent
enough to refrain from calling.”
She said: “Yes; you are
right. I am in trouble, and of my own making.
In my distress that awful night I did not want to give
my name to a stranger, and now to recognize in my
companion one of our own legation is really a piece
of great good fortune. We cannot talk here.
I may be able to be of service to the legation to
my country, but we dare not talk here. What I
have to say is long. You must not call on me,
but we must meet. Come to the masked ball at
the palace to-morrow no, not you.
Some one who is not of the legation some
one you can trust. It is a masquerade as you
must know. I shall wear a mask a black
domino with a red rose on one sleeve, a white one
on the other. Let your friend say, ‘Lincoln.’
I shall answer, ‘America.’ But do
let him be careful.”
I said, “Yes; I will arrange it.”
“Oh, thank you. Talk now of something else.”
I said, “Yes, in a moment.”
It occurred to me that I might use Merton. “My
friend will be in our army uniform, an entirely unsuspected
man. How pretty those flowers are!”
I found her charming, a widow, and
if I might judge from her jewels, one at ease in regard
to money. Before we left, after dinner, I had
a few minutes more of talk with her in the drawing-room.
She was free from the look of care I had observed
when presented.
“Good-by,” I said, as
we parted, “and be assured that you have friends.”
“Oh, thank you!” she murmured.
“But I am involving others in my difficulties.
I wish I had never done it. Good night.”
I went home, curious and perplexed.
Early in the morning of the next day
I went to the rooms of our first secretary. In
reply to my request, he said he had two cards for the
ball at my disposal, and would arrange matters with
the master of ceremonies. I accepted one card
for Merton, and went away well pleased and regretful
that I found it better, as she had done, to leave this
singular errand to another.
I made haste to call on Merton, and
finding him in, related my fortunate meeting with
Mme. Bellegarde, and told him what she expected
us to do. He was much pleased, and I happy in
finding for our purpose a man whom no one was likely
to watch. I urged him, however, to be cautious,
and went away, arranging that he should call on me
after the ball, even though his visit might be far
on in the night. I was too curious and too anxious
to wait longer.
It was after three in the morning
when he aroused me from the nap into which I had fallen.
“By George!” he cried,
“she is a delightful and a brave woman.
I told you so; but, good heavens! she is in a sad
scrape.”
“Well, what is it? Has she robbed the Bank
of France?”
“Worse. I told you it was
some diplomatic tangle. I was right. It is
a big one.”
“For Heaven’s sake, go on!”
“She is beautiful.”
“Of course; I know that. But what happened?”
“I said she was beautiful.”
“Yes, twice, and you have never seen her face.”
“No, but you told me so.
However, I went early and waited about the door until
she came in. I kept her in sight. It wasn’t
easy. A half-hour later I got my chance.
She had been left by her last partner near a small
picture-gallery, and was chatting with an old lady.
I said, ‘It is my dance, I believe.’
She rose at once. As we moved away I whispered,
‘Lincoln,’ and on her replying, ‘America,’
she guided me through the gallery and at last into
a small conservatory and behind some orange-trees.
No one was near. ‘One moment,’ she
said; ’even here I am not free.’
I saw no evidence of her being watched, but she was,
I fancied, in an agony of apprehension. As I
mentioned my name and tried to reassure her, she let
fall her black domino saying, ’Quick, push it
under that sofa!’ She wore beneath it a pearl-colored
silk domino, and, of course, was still masked.”
“By George!” said I, “a woman of
resources. How clever that was!”
Merton went on: “Then we
sat down, I saying: ’Be cool, and don’t
hurry. You are entirely secure.’ She
did go on, and what a story! She said:
“’On the night before
I involved Mr Greville in trouble, I went to an evening
party at Count lé Moyne’s. I was never
there before, or only to call on the countess, and
at that time talked a few minutes with the count.
They have been here hardly more than a month.
When I arrived there was a great crush in the hall
and on the stair. As I waited to get rid of my
wraps the count came through the crowd and passed
me. He had, I suppose, been belated at the Foreign
Office. He seemed to be in haste and went behind
a screen and into a room on the side of the hall.
A little later the music up-stairs ceased. I heard
cries of fire. People rushed down the stairway
screaming. There was a jam in the hall and a
terrible crush at the outer doors. A curtain had
been blown across a console and taken fire; that was
all, but the alarm and confusion were dreadful.
Women fainted. One or two men made brutal efforts
to escape. I have a temperament which leaves me
pretty cool in real danger. There was none but
what the terror of these people created. I was
hustled about and, with others, driven against the
Chinese screen which covered the doorway of the count’s
office. I said he had entered it yes,
I told you that. As the alarm grew, it must have
reached him, for he came out and had to use violence
to push the screen away so as to let him pass.
The tumult was at its height as he went by me crying,
‘Mon Dieu!’ He ran along a back
passageway and disappeared. There were other
women near, but I was so placed as to be able to slip
behind the screen he had pushed away. I am afraid
that he recognized me. As I thus took refuge
in the doorway the screen was crushed against it,
and I was caught. Of course I was excited, but
I was cool compared with the people outside.
I tried the door behind me and felt it open.
Then I saw that I was in the count’s private
office. On the table a lamp was burning.
As I was crossing the room to try a side-door entrance
into the garden, I caught sight of a large paper envelop
on the table. I could not help seeing the largely
written inscription. I paused. In an instant
I realized that I was in an enemy’s country
and had a quick sense of anger as I read: “Foreign
Office. Confidential. Recognition of the
Confederate States. Note remarks by his Majesty
the Emperor. Make full digest at once. Haste
required! Drouyn de Lhuys.” I stood
still. For a moment, believe me, I forgot the
fire everything. I suppose the devil
was at my side.’
“‘A good devil,’ said I.
“She said: ’Oh, please
not to laugh. It was terrible. If you had
lived in France these two years you would know.
I have been all summer in the utmost distress about
my country. I have been insulted and mocked because
of our failures. Women can be very cruel.
The desirability of France and England acknowledging
the Confederacy was almost daily matter of talk among
the people I met. Here before me, in my power,
was information sure to be valuable to our legation to
my country. I little dreamed of its importance.
I did not reflect. I acted on impulse. I
seized the big envelop and drew my cloak around me.
The package was bulky and heavy.’”
“Good heavens! Merton,” said I, “She
stole it!”
“Stole it! Nonsense! It was war glorious.”
I shook my head in disapproval, and
had at once a vast longing to see our worried and
anxious envoys profit by the beautiful thief’s
outrageous robbery.
Merton continued: “I will
go on to state it as well as I can in her own words.
She said: ’I stood a moment in doubt, but
the noise in the hall increased. The screen was
driven in fragments against the door. I might
be caught at any moment. That would mean ruin.
I tried the side door. It was not locked, and
in a moment I found myself outside, in the garden.
I went around to the front of the house, and in a minute
or two secured a cabriolet and was driven home.
Then my worst troubles began. I had acted on
impulse. It was wrong. I was a thief.
Was it not wrong? Oh, I know it was wicked!
To think, sir, that I should have done such a thing!’
“When she spoke out in this
way,” said Merton, “I saw that if we were
to help her, it was essential that we should know whether
she was becoming irresolute. To test her I said:
’But, madame, you could have given it back
to the count next day. You may be sure he would
never have told; and now, poor man, he is in a terrible
scrape, and that unlucky Foreign Office! It is
not yet too late. Why not return the papers?’
“For a moment I felt ashamed,
because even before I made this effort to see if it
was worth while to take the grave risks which I saw
before us, I knew that she was sobbing.”
“It was worth while. But
what,” I asked, “did she say?” If
Merton had said that she was weakening, I should have
felt some relief and more disappointment.
He asked in turn, “What do you think she said?”
For my part, I could only reply that
it was a question of character, but that while she
might feel regret and express her penitence in words,
a woman who had done what she had done would never
express it in acts.
Merton said, “Thank you,”
which seemed to me a rather odd reply. He rose
as he spoke and for a moment walked about in silence,
and then said: “By George! Greville,
I felt as if I had insulted her. You think I
was right it is quite a relief.”
He spoke with an amount of emotion which appeared
to me uncalled for.
“Yes, of course you were right; but what did
she say?”
“‘Say?’ She said:
’I am not a child, sir. I did what I know
to be wrong. I did it for no personal advantage.
I am punished when I think of myself as a thief.
I have already suffered otherwise. I do not care.
I did it for my country, as as you kill
men for it. I shall abide by what I did and may
God forgive me! But if you are ashamed if
you are shocked if you think oh,
if you fear to assist me, you will at least consider
what I have said as a confidence.’ She stood
up as she answered me, and spoke out with entire absence
of care about being overheard. Ah, but I wanted
to see that masked face! I said twice as she
spoke: ‘Be careful. You mistake me.’
She took not the least notice of my caution.
Then at last I said: ’Pray sit down.
It was it is clear, madame, that all
concerned or who may concern themselves, with this
matter must feel absolute security that there will
be no weakness anywhere. After what you have
said, and with entire trust in you, we shall at all
risks see this thing through.’ She said,
‘Thank you,’ and did sit down.
“Then I went on: ’I
want to ask you a question or two. Did the count
recognize you?’
“’I was not sure at the
time, but he must have at least suspected me, for
he called next day at an unusually early hour, insisted
on seeing me, and frankly told me that on the night
before, during the fire, a document had been stolen
from his table. He had remembered me as near
to the office. Did I know anything about it?
I said, “How could I?” I was dreadfully
scared, but I replied that I had certainly gone through
his office and had left both doors open. Then
he said, “It is too grave a matter for equivocation,
and I ask, Did you take it?” I said I was insulted,
and upon this he lost his temper and threatened all
manner of consequences.’