The interview had passed off successfully. The illustrious visitor had shown a wide knowledge of and a deep personal interest in the affairs of the country which had gone far to lessen the instinctive feeling of hostility with which the two men primarily responsible for its well-being, had viewed his advent. He had listened carefully to Carew’s story, gripping the major points of importance sanely and intelligently, and had been loud in his approval of the work done. With Gallic courtesy and enthusiasm he had congratulated all concerned, expressing his own and his country’s indebtedness to the three men he addressed in a felicitous little speech that hinted at much he did not say outright, and, with a final interchange of compliments, had at last betaken himself to his waiting carriage whither the Governor and General Sanois had accompanied him.
And Carew, left for a few moments alone in the cool pleasant room, had fallen into a profound reverie that was in no way connected with the events of the afternoon.
The sound of approaching voices roused him and he turned reluctantly from the window as the stout, smiling little Governor bustled in, followed by his tall, grave-faced army colleague, and a slim, delicate-looking youth who went silently to a desk in a far corner.
The Governor dropped into a chair with a little grunt, mopped his heated forehead vigorously and beamed with evident satisfaction on his companions.
“That’s over,” he remarked in a tone of relief. “I usually have a crise de nerfs after these visits. But this one was better than most, Dieu merci! Some of them—oh, la! la!” He broke off with a comical grimace, flourishing his handkerchief expressively. Then with a shrug and a gay laugh he tapped Carew’s knee confidentially with a podgy forefinger.
“Everything goes à merveille, my dear Carew. Our friend is charmed with all he has seen, has been pleased to compliment me on the state of the country, and has swallowed all the extravagant demands of our good Sanois here without turning a hair. Providing he remembers all he has promised, providing his interest is as great as he represents, there should be speedily allowed to us some alterations in administration we have long asked for in vain. Our hands have been tied too tightly, voyez-vous. He sees the necessity for loosening them somewhat. I am not expecting the millennium—I have lived too long to expect anything very much, particularly of politicians—but I am hopeful, decidedly hopeful. If it were not so exhausting I might even allow myself to become enthusiastic. But I gave up enthusiasms when I came to Algeria—so very detrimental to the nerves.” Again he demonstrated languidly with his handkerchief, and then patted his chest significantly. “And some little decorations will probably follow, hein? We need not attach too much importance to them, perhaps, but they are pleasant to receive, oh, yes, decidedly very pleasant to receive.”
“For me, I would rather receive the extra battery I asked for,” growled the General.
The little Governor looked up at him with an expression of pained protest. “Ah, you soldiers—you and your guns! Brute force, brute force—that’s all you think of,” he murmured reprovingly. Then he smiled again, waving his hands as though dismissing the unpleasant idea his colleague’s words suggested.
“You will dine with me tonight,” he said genially, “both of you? We must celebrate the occasion. And afterwards, perhaps, for an hour or two, the opera? Not very amusing but—” he shrugged whimsically and offered Carew his cigarette case.
For a few minutes longer they talked of the possibilities of the new régime in prospect, and then the General rose to go with a vague reference to a mass of correspondence awaiting his attention.