ELLINGHAM. Kerchival!
KERCHIVAL. [Under handkerchief.] Eh? H'm!
ELLINGHAM. Can you sleep at a time like this? My own nerves are on fire.
KERCHIVAL. Fire? Oh—yes—I remember. Any more fire-works, Bob?
ELLINGHAM. A signal rocket from one of the batteries, now and then. [Goes up beyond window. KERCHIVAL arouses himself, taking handkerchief from his eyes.
KERCHIVAL. What a preposterous hour to be up. The ball was over an hour ago, all the guests are gone, and it's nearly four o'clock. [Looks at his watch.] Exactly ten minutes of four. [Takes out a cigar..] Our Southern friends assure us that General Beauregard is to open fire on Fort Sumter this morning. I don't believe it. [Lighting cigar and rising, crosses and looks out through window.] There lies the old fort—solemn and grim as ever, and the flagstaff stands above it, like a warning finger. If they do fire upon it—[Shutting his teeth for a moment and looking down at the cigar in his hand.]—the echo of that first shot will be heard above their graves, and heaven knows how many of our own, also; but the flag will still float!—over the graves of both sides.
[ELLINGHAM enters up centre and comes down.]
Are you Southerners all mad, Robert?
ELLINGHAM. Are you Northerners all blind? [KERCHIVAL sits.] We Virginians would prevent a war if we could. But your people in the North do not believe that one is coming. You do not understand the determined frenzy of my fellow-Southerners. Look! [Pointing.] Do you see the lights of the city, over the water? The inhabitants of Charleston are gathering, even now, in the gray, morning twilight, to witness the long-promised bombardment of Fort Sumter. It is to be a gala day for them. They have talked and dreamed of nothing else for weeks. The preparations have become a part of their social life—of their amusement—their gayeties. This very night at the ball—here—in the house of my own relatives—what was their talk? What were the jests they laughed at? Sumter! War! Ladies were betting bonbons that the United States would not dare to fire a shot in return, and pinning ribbons on the breasts of their "heroes." There was a signal rocket from one of the forts, and the young men who were dancing here left their partners standing on the floor to return to the batteries—as if it were the night before another Waterloo. The ladies themselves hurried away to watch the "spectacle" from their own verandas. You won't see the truth! I tell you, Kerchival, a war between the North and South is inevitable!
KERCHIVAL. And if it does come, you Virginians will join the rest.