“It was just a week previous to the Red River campaign, when all was hurry and activity throughout the Department of the Gulf, that General S., a stern, irascible old officer of the regular army, sat at his desk in his office on Julia street, curtly giving orders to subordinates, dispatching messengers hither and thither to every part of the city where troops were stationed, and stiffly receiving such of his command as had important business to transact.
“In the midst of this unusual hurry and preparation the door noiselessly opened, and a humble Sister of Charity entered the room. A handsome young lieutenant of the staff instantly arose and deferentially handed her a chair, for those sombre gray garments were respected, if not understood, even though he had no reverence for the religious faith which they represented.
“General S. looked up from his writing, angered by the intrusion of one whose ‘fanaticism’ he despised, and a frown of annoyance and displeasure gathered darkly on his brow.
“‘Orderly!’
“The soldier on duty without the door, who had admitted the Sister, faced about, saluted and stood mute, awaiting the further command of his chief.
“‘Did I not give orders that no one was to be admitted?’
“‘Yes, sir; but—’
“‘When I say no one, I mean no one,’ thundered the General.
“The orderly bowed and returned to his post. He was too wise a soldier to enter into explanation with so irritable a superior. All this time the patient Sister sat calm and still, biding the moment when she might speak and meekly state the object of her mission. The General gave her the opportunity in the briefest manner possible, and sharply enough, too, in all conscience.
“‘Well, madam?’