The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

But she looked greatly alarmed when I said that, and whispered eagerly:

"No, no, Monsieur; do not say that! Take the place, if you can, for your own sake,"—and then she hesitated a moment,—"and for mine."

There was no chance for another word; the game was breaking up, and the old duchess came and carried her off with a glare of distrust and suspicion at me, and I had no doubt she had been watching our whispered consultation.

There was no chance, either, to tell my uncle of my interview with the Consul; for I could say nothing before my aunt without entering into explanations that I did not want to make to her, and I knew the fact of my returning to the salon instead of being hurried off to prison had quieted his alarms. The hour was late, and we said good night to each other in the corridors when we returned home, going at once to our rooms.

I hurried down-stairs the next morning, hoping to find my uncle taking his morning coffee in the garden, as he often did in this lovely spring weather; but I had overslept, and he was already gone. Late in the afternoon I sought him in his library, for I knew my answer to the First Consul must be decided upon at once, and I was anxious to tell him all about my interview. He answered my knock by a quick "Enter, enter!" and I found him brimming over with gay good humor and excitement.

"You are just in time, my boy," he cried. "I am expecting the American ambassadors every moment, and, if they offer no objection, you may stay and see how history is made. We are to sign the treaty that is to give the First Consul the munitions of war, and that will place America in the very front rank of nations."

My own affairs seemed of small moment beside such stupendous ones, and I saw that my uncle had entirely forgotten his alarm of the evening before. I was myself very greatly excited, for this was the moment to which I had been looking for nearly a year, though the realization about to be consummated was far exceeding my wildest fancies.

The two gentlemen were announced a moment later, and they both greeted me cordially, for they knew my family at home and I had called on them several times in Paris. Nor did my uncle have to prefer a request that I should be permitted to be a witness of the signing of the treaty. Mr. Livingston himself suggested that I be invited to remain, and, the others assenting most cordially, I thanked them heartily for their courtesy, and retired to a seat in the background, where I might not intrude upon their deliberations.

The document seemed long, and in fact, as I understood it, there were three documents—one which they called the treaty, and two others they called "conventions." They read them all over carefully several times before signing, and I heard the article read that I had seen the First Consul write, and discovered that one convention was to determine in what manner the sixty million francs were to be paid to France, and the other convention was concerned with the twenty million francs to be paid by the United States to such of its citizens as held claims against France.

There seemed to be some little discussions on a few minor points which were easily settled, and then very solemnly they each signed the three documents, Mr. Livingston writing his name first, then Mr. Monroe, and then my uncle. When this was done, the three gentlemen, as by a common impulse, rose to their feet and shook hands, their faces shining with a solemn light which I believe had nothing to do with self-glory, but with an unselfish joy at having accomplished an act that would bring honor and benefit to two great nations and to future generations. I, in my corner, was almost as proud as they, and quite as happy (when I thought of the honor that was to come to my country, and especially the blessings to that great West I was so interested in), and for the first time in my life I felt it might be almost finer to accomplish such great things by statesmanship and a stroke of the pen than to win fame and glory by the sword. Then I saw that Mr. Livingston was beginning to speak. He stood up straight and tall and fine-looking, and his manner was very impressive and full of dignity and a kind of solemn joy. I was very proud of him as a representative of my country, and each word that he spoke made me prouder and happier.