“And it is they rather than their doctrines I loathe,” said the General. “They creep and crawl and sprawl in ambush, and strike at midnight. They pretend friendship while plotting one's destruction. I was born to make war upon their tribe—war to the death.”
Rhetz made no protracted stay in such warm company. We did not hinder his escape, and presently had the advantage of his back.
“I should like to see the Calhoun face,” said I, “when Rhetz lays out his discoveries.”
“You observe how they try me,” cried the General, passionately, gazing after the disappearing Rhetz. “You will witness it! But by the heavens above us! I'll uphold the law!”
“And now,” continued the General, when Rhetz was quite gone away, “having been so vigorously free with the envoy, I must at once write Calhoun a letter and say it all over again. I would have talked this to Calhoun first of all, were I accurately the gentleman of honor; but then he should not have stirred me with his spy.”
The General's letter declaratory of the duplicity of Calhoun was written and went to the Vice-President the next day. It repeated his words to Rhetz so far as they were personal to Calhoun, and made a deal of commotion, I warrant you. The missive exploded in the very heart of Secession like a hand-grenade.
The General and I had turned now; we aimed to be home before dark, and your midwinter day is not the longest of the year. The sun was still an hour over the western trees, however, when we found ourselves in the President's Square. Supper would only come with sundown, since we still adhered to our Tennessee customs.
Having moments to spare, we rested ourselves upon a bench which owned a thick pine tree at its back. I was the more willing, for we were in close view from Peg's windows, and I half hoped the sight of the General would lure her out to us. I was pining for a look into her face, and to hear the voice of her, sweet as the full note of a harp.
“Do you know,” remarked my companion, “I never walk in this square but I think on the day when the British burned the White House. They halted in this very park and told off the squad of incendiaries and sent them across. Mrs. Madison was about to give a dinner, and was fair driven from the table by the bayonets of the English. I would I'd been here,” he concluded; “I'd have made it for those visitors another New Orleans. The lady should have had her dinner if I'd been here.”
“The English are good soldiers,” I urged, paying little heed to him, for my eyes were roving after some flutter of Peg's skirts.