“I am likely to be in the plot, Monsieur,” she said. “I am likely to be in a plot which has for its furtherance that abominable anarchy which deprived me of my home and estates, of my relatives and friends and my sovereign.”
“A thousand pardons, Madame la Vicomtesse,” said the Baron, more at sea than ever. “I have had much to do these last years, and the heat and the Republicans have got on my temper. Will Madame la Vicomtesse pray explain?”
“I was about to do so when your Excellency interrupted,” said Madame. “You see before you Mr. Ritchie, barrister, of Louisville, Kentucky, whose character of sobriety, dependence, and ability” (there was a little gleam in her eye as she gave me this array of virtues) “can be perfectly established. When he came to New Orleans some years ago he brought letters to Monsieur de St. Gré from Monsieur Gratiot and Colonel Chouteau of St. Louis, and he is known to Mr. Clark and to Monsieur Vigo. He is a Federalist, as you know, and has no sympathy with the Jacobins.”
“Eh bien, Mr. Ritchie,” said the Baron, getting his breath, “you are fortunate in your advocate. Madame la Vicomtesse neglected to say that she was your friend, the greatest of all recommendations in my eyes.”
“You are delightful, Monsieur le Baron,” said the Vicomtesse.
“Perhaps Mr. Ritchie can tell me something of this expedition,” said the Baron, his eyes growing smaller as he looked at me.
“Willingly,” I answered. “Although I know that your Excellency is well informed, and that Monsieur Vigo has doubtless given you many of the details that I know.”
He interrupted me with a grunt.
“You Americans are clever people, Monsieur,” he said; “you contrive to combine shrewdness with frankness.”
“If I had anything to hide from your Excellency, I should not be here,” I answered. “The expedition, as you know, has been as much of a farce as Citizen Genêt's commissions. But it has been a sad farce to me, inasmuch as it involves the honor of my old friend and Colonel, General Clark, and the safety of my cousin, Mr. Temple.”