“Have you a bed?” said the President.
“Yes,” he stammered, recognizing his interlocutor.
“Then carry her up, Martin; and you, send your wife to her.”
I took her up, and laid her gently on the bed. The President followed me. Then we went downstairs again into the little parlor.
“Let us have a talk,” he said; and he added to the man, “Give us some brandy, quick, and then go.”
He was obeyed, and we were left alone with the dim light of a single candle.
The President sat down and began to smoke. He offered me a cigar and I took it, but he said nothing. I was surprised at his leisurely, abstracted air. Apparently he had nothing in the world to do but sit and keep me company.
“If your Excellency,” said I, instinctively giving him his old title, “has business elsewhere you can leave me safely. I shall not break my word.”
“I know that—I know that,” he answered. “But I’d rather stay here; I want to have a talk.”
“But aren’t there some things to settle up in the town?”