I could well imagine what he would have said, had not his courtesy prevented.
"I will hasten," I said. "It may be he will meet you in a more favorable mood after he has seen the letters I bear."
"God knows! Who can tell?" he murmured in Spanish.
"I hope to know within the hour," I replied.
"Sabe Dios—Quien sabe?" he repeated, as I set off.
I found the General's headquarters without difficulty, and upon mentioning my name, was at once passed in by the sentinel on guard in the piazza. When I entered the office, I found the General studying a map of Lower Louisiana, in company with Colonel Cushing, his second in command. For a moment he stared at me with stupid pomposity, as if he had been overcome with the whiskey, a bottle of which stood on the table before him. But even as I gave my name, he recognized me and beckoned me to a seat at the table, with a fussy show of cordiality.
"Of course, of course, Dr. Robinson! Take a seat! I'm pestered with all kinds of visitors in these days of impending war. But a gentleman is always welcome. Colonel Cushing, you have met Dr. Robinson?—No?—One of our most promising young physicians,—already favorably known for his skill, both in the Upper and Lower Territory. He has, I understand, a private claim to present for my consideration. That is my understanding, doctor."
"You have been so kind, sir, as to give me opportunity to present a matter of private business, if I am not mistaken."
Colonel Cushing promptly rose, excused himself, and withdrew. The General leaned toward me, his fat, red face flushing still deeper, his breath hurried and labored.
"You bring me letters?" he puffed.