“Our women of the South,” said the Judge, who listened, “are more of an inspiration because they are never associated in our minds with any life but that of the home circle and its refining influences. When our women enter the arena, it is only in the heart and memory of some man whose ideals, Madame, are higher, whose ambitions are nobler, because she exists untouched by the notoriety attaching itself to the court intrigues you mention, the notoriety too often miscalled fame.”
“Right you are, Judge,” said Delaven, heartily. “After all, human nature is very much alike whether in kingdom or republic, and men love best the same sort of women the world over.”
Matthew Loring entered the room just then, leaning on the arm of Gertrude, whose fair hair made harmony with the corn-colored lawn in which she looked daintily pretty, and as the two ladies faced each other the contrasted types made a most effective picture.
“You have not met the Marquise de Caron?” he asked of Gertrude; and then with a certain pride in this last of the Lorings, he continued: “Madame la Marquise, allow me to present my niece, Miss Loring.”
The blue eyes of the Carolina girl and the mesmeric amber eyes of the Parisian met, with the slight conventional smile ladies favor each other with, sometimes. There was decided interest shown by each in the other––an interest alert and questioning. Judithe turned brightly to Loring:
“In your democratic land, my dear sir, I have dispensed with ‘La Marquise.’ While here I am Madame Caron, very much at your service,” and she made him a miniature bow.
“We shall not forget your preference, Madame Caron,” said Gertrude, “it is a pretty compliment to our institutions.” Then she glanced at Delaven, “did we interrupt a dissertation on your favorite topic, Doctor?”
“Never a bit; it’s yourself is an inspiration to continue the same topic indefinitely,” and he explained the difference Madame Caron had noticed in political matter with and without the feminine element.
“For all that, there are women in the political machines here, also,” said Loring, testily––“too many of them, secret agents, spies, and the like. Gertrude, what was it Captain Masterson reported about some very dangerous person of 231 that sort in New Orleans?––a woman whose assistance to the Yankees was remarkable, and whose circle of acquaintances was without doubt the very highest––did he learn her name?”