VI. — THE HEART OF A STATESMAN.
Mr. X——- was seated in front of an excellent coal fire, in his great armchair, near a table covered with papers, and between his lips was the eternal cigar.
At sight of me he rose courteously—for he never omitted any form of politeness—and cordially shook my hand.
“I am glad to see you, colonel,” he said. “Just from the army? Have a cigar.”
And he extended toward me an elegant cigar-case full of Havanas, which he took from the table. I declined, informing him that I had been smoking all the evening in the sanctum of the editor of the Examiner.
“Ah! you have been to see Daniel,” said Mr. X——-. “He is a very remarkable man. I do not approve of the course of his paper, and he has attacked me very bitterly on more than one occasion. But I bear no grudge against him. He is honest in his opinions. I admire the pluck of the man, and the splendid pith of his writings.”
“My views accord with your own,” I replied.
“Everybody thinks with us,” said Mr. X——-, puffing at his cigar. “It is only ignoramuses who deny this man’s courage and ability. I have never done injustice to Daniel—and I call that ‘liberal’ in myself, colonel! He has flayed me alive on three or four occasions, and it is not his fault that I am enjoying this excellent Havana.”
“I read the attacks,” I said.