242CHAPTER XXX
The Ambassador
“Receive then this young hero with all becoming state;
’Twere ill advis’d to merit so fierce a champion’s hate.”
–Nibelungenlied.
In his bedroom at Buena Vista, the marshal’s residence, Driscoll the next day received a personage, and offered him a cigar. Declined, with bow from shoulder. Hoped he would have a nip of peach brandy? Declined, with sweep from hips. He was a personage. Driscoll noted regalia, medals, cordon; and apologized for the temerity of Missouri hospitality.
“Especially,” he said, “as you’re a Grand Divinity.”
“Dignity, señor,” the hidalgo corrected him, “Grand Dignity.”
“You’ll have to pardon me again,” said Driscoll, “but I really didn’t intend any short measure at all.”
It was the Imperial Grand Chamberlain himself. There were no incomunicado doors before him; he came from the Emperor. The Empress had spoken to His Majesty, having just had her discussion aforementioned with Madame la Maréchale, so that Monsieur le Maréchal had had to lift from his prisoner the ban of the incomunicado. But monsieur had been extremely reluctant about it.
The Chamberlain’s name went well with his exalted fourth degree of proximity to the throne. It was Velasquez de Leon, a very bristling of Castilian pride. He looked over the battered American in homespun gray, and wondered where the mistake 243was. For, as arbiter of precedence, appraiser of inequality between men, and supervisor over court functions generally, he had been sent in the way of business. Driscoll felt sorry for him.