Again came the clatter of approval; but once more Gates stopped them.
“There was but one such officer at hand,” said the general, continuing, “and to him the command was offered. I believe in encouraging genius—though to repress it seems more the practice in this army. Too long has this brilliant young soldier of whom I speak,” and his gaze went to Lafayette, “been held in the background. Knowing the past as some of us do,” here his eyes went to Mifflin and Conway, “we realize the chagrin that must now fill the breast of one who seeks to keep all the glory for himself.”
A thin hiss ran from lip to lip at this picture of official selfishness. Gates proceeded:
“The offer of the command of the Canadian expedition was made the Marquis de Lafayette. And we now ask him whether he accepts or no.”
Lafayette arose.
“I do accept,” he said. “I accept with the utmost gratitude. The command is a most important one, and I shall do my utmost to bring it to success.”
There was a chorus of cheers; the conspirators gathered about him, offering their congratulations.
“A toast!” cried a voice. “Gates! Gates! A toast.”
This time a number of others took up the cry.
“A toast, Marquis, a toast!” they demanded.