"Corneel! are you the woman to go with me?"
The question was from Julia Girdwood to her cousin, after their return
to the Hotel de Louvre. They were alone in their _chambre de coucher_,
still shawled and bonneted, as they had come in from their promenade:
Mrs Girdwood, yet engaged with the trio of gentlemen, was in a
reception-room below. "Where?" asked Cornelia.
"Where! I'm astonished you should ask! Of course after _him_!"
"Dear Jule! I know what you mean. I was thinking of it myself. But
what will aunt say, if we so expose ourselves? There's danger in the
streets. I believe they were firing upon the people--I'm sure they
were! You hear the shooting now? Isn't that the roaring of cannon? It
sounds like it!"
"Don't be a coward, cousin! You remember a roaring loud as that against
the rocky cliffs of Newport! Did he hold back when we were in danger of
our lives? Perhaps we may save his!"
"Julia! I did not think of holding back. I'm ready to go with you, if
we can do anything for him. What do you propose?"
"First, find out to where they have taken him. I'll know that soon.
You saw me speak to a _commissaire_!"
"I did. You put something into his hand?"
"A five-franc piece for him to follow the Zouaves, and see where they
took their prisoner. I promised him twice as much to come back and make
report. I warrant he'll soon be here."
"And what then, Julia? What can we do?"
"Of ourselves, nothing. I don't know any more than yourself why Captain
Maynard has got into trouble with these Parisian soldiers. No doubt
it's on account of his republican belief. We've heard about that; and
God bless the man for so believing!"
"Dear Julia! you know how I agree with you in the sentiment!"
"Well--no matter what he's done. It's our duty to do what we can for
him."
"I know it is, cousin. I only ask you what can we do?"
"We shall see. We have a Minister here. Not the man he should be: for
it's the misfortune of America to send to European Governments the very
men who are _not_ true representatives of our nation. The very opposite
are chosen. The third-rate intellects, with a pretended social polish,
supposed to make them acceptable at kingly courts--as if the great
Republic of America required to be propped up with pretension and
diplomacy. Corneel! we're losing time. The man, to whom we perhaps
both owe our lives, may be at this moment in danger of losing his! Who
knows where they've taken him? It is our duty to go and see."
"Will you tell aunt?"
"No. She'd be sure to object to our going out. Perhaps take steps to
hinder us. Let us steal downstairs, and get off without telling her.
We needn't be long absent. She'll not know anything about it till we're
back again."
"But where do you propose going, Julia?"
"First, down to the front of the hotel. There we shall await the
_commissaire_. I told him the Hotel de Louvre; and I wish to meet him
outside. He may be there now. Come, Corneel!"
Still in their promenade dresses, there was no need of delay; and the
two ladies, gliding down the stone stairway of the Louvre Hotel stood in
the entrance below. They had no waiting to do. The _commissaire_ met
them on the steps, and communicated the result of his errand.
His account was simple. Accustomed only to speculate upon what he was
paid for, he had observed only to the limits of the stipulation. The
Zouaves had carried their prisoner to a guardroom fronting the Tuileries
Gardens, and there shut him up. So the commissary supposed.
He had made memorandum of the number, and handed it over to the lady who
commissioned him, receiving in return a golden coin, for which no change
was required.
"That will do," muttered Julia to her cousin, as they sallied forth upon
the street, and took their way toward the unpretentious building that
over the door showed the lettering, "U.S. LEGATION."
There, as everywhere else, they found excitement--even terror. They had
to pass through a crowd mostly composed of their own countrymen.
But these, proverbially gallant towards women, readily gave way to them.
Who would not to women such as they?
A Secretary came forth to receive them. He regretted that the Minister
was engaged.
But the proud Julia Girdwood would take no denial. It was a matter of
moment--perhaps of life and death. She must see the representative of
her country, and on the instant!
There is no influence stronger than woman's beauty. Perhaps none so
strong. The Secretary of Legation succumbed to it; and, disregarding
the orders he had received, opened a side door, and admitted the
intercessors to an interview with the Ambassador.
Their story was soon told. A man who had borne the banner of the Stars
and Stripes through the hailstorm of more than one battle--who had
carried it up the steep of Chapultepec, till it fell from his arm
paralysed by the enemy's shot--that man was now in Paris--prisoner to
drunken Zouave soldiers--in peril of his life!
Such was the appeal made to the American Minister.
It needed not such beautiful appellants. Above the conservatism of the
man--after all only social--rose the purer pride of his country's
honour.
Yielding to its dictates, he sallied forth, determined upon doing his
duty.