"Indeed," thought I; and when I had sufficiently recovered to ask who had been there since I had been gone, she smilingly said:
"Why, your friend, the Colonel, calls frequently; also that Mississippi Lieutenant of yours. Isn't he just too nice?"
This was not exactly what I expected or desired to hear from Capitola, but it was enough. The Colonel, my brotherly friend, was deceiving me, too. One purpose of my visit had been to request her company to the reception at the President's that evening. I had formed the impression that it would be a great scheme for the Spy to escort the Maryland slave to Jeff Davis' reception. When I had intimated the object of my visit, she burst into a hearty laugh as she said, cheerily:
"Oh, that is too funny. I believe every soldier from Maryland in your company has made that request already, and I had to decline them all, because I had engaged to go with the Lieutenant, you know."
I was preparing to take my leave when the door bell rang. After a few more words and a sad "Good-by" to Capitola, I was about to leave the room when I ran against my disinterested, brotherly Colonel, who had been trying to replace himself in the affections of my girl—while advising me to stay away. He was not at all embarrassed, but at once broke out into a hearty laugh, and, pulling me over to a sofa, we had a talk about the affair, which amused Capitola so much that her merry laughter rang through the house as she gathered the situation from our "explanations."
The Colonel proposed going out with me, but I noticed that he had cunningly slipped Capitola to one side and whispered in her ear something which had the effect of causing her cheery laughter to break out in a fresh place. She rushed over to me and, placing both hands on my shoulder, said:
"There is another—he wants me to go with him to the reception."
So I had my turn to laugh on the Colonel. We were about to leave. Capitola, smiling, suggested that we march the whole company down to her house and she should go along with all of us—as the Fille de Regiment.
Despite the weather and some gloomy forebodings of friends, the reception of President Jeff Davis was a success—in the way of a crowd, at least. It seemed to me at the time that everybody was there. There were all kinds of people present during the evening—the very best class of the citizens of Richmond and, perhaps, some of the very worst element, along with the numerous army officers and soldiers.
Richmond, in the winter of 1861, may justly be termed, at that time, the wickedest city in America. Adventurous gamblers and bad citizens of every conceivable description had flocked to the Rebel Capital from New Orleans and all parts of the South and North. One portion of Main street was abandoned almost wholly to gambling houses, which, at night, were inhabited by the worst kind of characters, in Rebel uniforms. These people and their associates, who were in the city for sport and to ply their vocations, flocked in great numbers to all places where crowds were gathered, such as theatres, receptions, etc.