He watched her as he spoke, knowing well that at the mention of separation the blood would drop out of her cheeks and her eyes would become dark and troubled, like a pool over which a cloud is passing. Nevertheless, Angela spoke quickly the thought in her heart:
“Of course. A soldier can’t shirk his duty—you least of all. I could just as soon imagine Neville or Richard seeking inglorious ease as you. Though Neville is with the North, it makes me proud to feel that no Southern man skulks at home.”
“That is true,” remarked Isabey. “Most of them want to go, and the others dare not remain behind; the ladies won’t let them.”
“Do you mean to say,” indignantly asked Angela, “that any Southern man would stay at home now?”
“A few would,” coolly replied Isabey. “But they are more afraid of their womenkind than they are of Northern bullets. I know several men of my own age in New Orleans who would have been very glad to find business in Paris until this little zephyr blows over, but not one of them ever dared to mention as much to his wife or mother or sisters.”
“How long will the war last?” asked Angela.
“Until there is not enough lead in the Confederacy to fire another round. We are not only fighting for our independence but for our whole social and economic structure. No people ever had so great a stake in war. How do we know what will happen if the war goes against us? A military despotism may be established; we may be reduced to a position like Carthage!”
Angela paused awhile and then asked:
“When will you go away from Harrowby?”
“Next week, I think. You see, although I am not able to go out on the firing line just yet, I can do a great many things in camp. I have written, therefore, to General Farrington at the camp of instruction, offering my services for ordinary regimental duties and saying I can report next week. And I have written my servant, whom I left with a brother officer in my battery, to report at the instruction camp as soon as possible; so you see I am preparing to break up my winter quarters.”