A PRESIDENT FOR ONE NIGHT.
Hildegarde had intended to rush forward and throw herself into my arms.
Poor girl! She had suffered torments during the last two hours, while
the uproar continued around the citadel.
At Robbins’ astonishing declaration she stood still and looked at me
with startled eyes.
Really, there was cause for surprise; it is not every woman who bids
her husband adieu as a plain, everyday American citizen, and welcomes
him back two hours later as the president of a bellicose little
republic.
“Morgan--is it true?” she gasped.
“I’m afraid I must plead guilty to the indictment. I didn’t dream of
accepting the honor, but, you see, they were so very urgent, under the
belief that I had been of some little assistance in the capture of the
citadel, that I was overwhelmed.”
“Some little assistance? Madam, he is too modest by long odds; why,
he carried the whole business by the might of his valor, and made the
most gallant charge I ever saw or heard of, barring none--why, the
whole city resounds with his praise, and there was no other choice for
the presidency after Toreado went down; they demanded it, and public
opinion is irresistible here as in the States.”
“Come, Mr. Secretary, you draw it too strongly,” I said, in
expostulation; but, all the same, this fervid praise was as balm of
Gilead to my soul, for Hildegarde’s face shone with ardent admiration.
Truly, my cup was running over, and the hour of my triumph at hand.
Perhaps I should have remembered that pride usually goes before a fall.
“Oh, Morgan, to think of you a president in a night! I must be
dreaming,” she said, from the shelter of my arms, to which she had fled.
“Think how little I expected such a thing a few hours ago when in the
alcalde’s old dungeon. Liberty was then the height of my ambition,
and I would have laughed any one to scorn had they prophesied such a
tremendous push up the ladder of fame. But this is a wonderful country,
my dear, and men are made or unmade in an hour. It’s philosophy to
take things as they come. Honors are fleeting--some day it will be
ex-president with me, and perhaps we’ll be making a bolt for the
border.”
I might have said more in this vein, but I saw that it worried her, and
no matter what anxieties might loom above the horizon. I felt that I
had no right to burden her with them.
Anyhow, she seemed very proud to have a president for a husband; it was
an experience few women may enjoy.
Her admiration made me forget what I had endured since we separated;
why, all that was an ugly dream, to arise at times like a phantom,
conjured to existence by a desire to compare present happiness with
past misery, and then allowed to sink back into its grave again.
She insisted on hearing the story of the attack on the citadel, and
between us we gave it to her. When Robbins thought I faltered in
touching upon my own share in the exploit, he rushed in and described
with the tongue of a romancist the tragic events preceding and
succeeding the smashing of the door. So that, taking it in all, I
rather imagine the little woman received a pretty strong impression of
what that affair was like.
She kept squeezing my arm sympathetically all the while, as though
she appreciated how vast an amount of heroic blood it required to do
such things in these days of modern destructive engines of war; and
when I incidentally mentioned being knocked down by the discharge of
the cannon, she threw her arms suddenly about my neck--Jove! I would
cheerfully allow myself to be prostrated by such concussion of air
again and again if by so doing I could merit so sweet a recompense.
At last it was all told.
The hour had grown very late.
We began to realize how sleepy we were, and I knew I must personally
secure some rest if I expected to take up the burden of my official
business on the following day.
Then it was I experienced the first qualms of burning regret at having
been lured into acceptance; why, only for that I could look forward to
sweet idleness, sailing a handsome yacht over the blue waters of the
summer seas, and up the grand, historic Nile; whereas now I must assume
the burden of governing a nation.
It made me sad.
Still, why should I complain, so long as Hildegarde were content to
remain with me and share my lot? Paradise would be where she was.
I ought to be thankful indeed.
Carmencita was so very proud of me she could not seem to take her eyes
from my face, and I even felt embarrassed, which showed I had not yet
become accustomed to being worshiped as a hero.
There was but a poor chance of securing much comfort on this night in
these humble quarters; perhaps, when I had been duly inaugurated, we
might have a presidential palace on the order of the alcalde’s big
affair, where we could entertain.
Hildegarde was led to a cot where she might snatch a little sleep,
covered with a shawl; while I, being an old campaigner, asked for
nothing better than a chair.
As for the secretary of war, he promptly declared that since old
Bolivar seemed determined to make a night of it, he believed it a part
of his new duties to be upon the street, studying the character of the
people, and entering into the spirit of the hour.
If ever there was a watchdog, Robbins was one--a jewel beyond compare;
and so long as he remained on guard, small reason had I to worry.
I busied myself in seeing that Hildegarde was comfortable, and even
insisted upon placing the Mexican shawl over her.
Then I kissed her good-night, and went away to the outer room, where I
was to compose myself in a chair as best I could.
Little did I expect to sleep--there were too many wonderful things
rioting through my mind to allow of my settling down.
I began to believe that, after all, Dame Fortune, weary of giving me
hard knocks, had determined to shower favors in my lap; my recent
experience was almost as dazzling as anything from the romantic pages
of the “Arabian Nights,” of which I had been so fond as a boy.
Where would it end?
Had I done wisely to accept this new burden?
Would not my lot have been more abundantly blessed with happiness had
I put aside ambition and refused the crown, like Cæsar is reported to
have thrice done?
Now that the thing had been carried through, I was sorry, and wished to
be free--free to go where I willed with my sweet Hildegarde, and leave
these regions of plots and counterplots, of uprisings and revolutions,
and presidents who were made in an hour.
Would the city of Bolivar ever quiet down again, I wondered.
It was just as noisy as before, and to all appearances the people meant
to make a full night of the change in dynasty; revolutions only occur
periodically, and must be taken advantage of.
The inhabitants were a queer set.
Would I ever understand them?
When the novelty had worn off, would their old-time prejudices, fanned
into a flame by the sly _padres_, arouse a storm which might threaten
to overwhelm me and my mushroom fortunes?
But there was sagacious Robbins to stand between, to swing the army to
my side, and quench the rising fires.
Bah! what need of worry, and on the first night too.
All might go well, and a grateful country, yoked to progress, rise up
and call me blessed.
At least the thought was pleasant.
So I sat there and conjured up all these fancies, being in the humor to
enjoy them. You see, I had never been a president before, never even
had the yearning for office, and the experience was so very novel it
quite demoralized me.
Other men have worked to that end, have laid wires to gain the office,
and pulled them, too, so that when the result was attained they only
realized their dreams.
With me it was so sudden.
Sleep? I could not have lost myself had I been offered a premium for so
doing.
I remember, distinctly, that three times I arose and tiptoed to the
connecting door, to peep into the other room. You see I was a bit
skeptical, and wished to assure myself she was there, and that the
whole thing was not the fabric of a dream.
Carmencita sat beside her in a chair; the child was sound asleep, and
yet the smile on her face told that she dreamed pleasant things.
Troubles are but fleeting things with such young minds; only the
present affects them.
The night was wearing on.
I thought of Robbins--and hoped he was enjoying himself after his own
fashion out on the streets.
Several times I heard voices without, and once I sat up as a couple of
citizens stopped before the door, for I distinctly heard one say in
Spanish:
“This is the house--I saw him enter.”
Presently they went on.
No doubt it was only curiosity or hero worship--they wished to know
where the new president lodged.
Something made me get up and glance out of the window--the two figures
neared the lights by the cathedral, and when I discovered that one of
them wore the remarkable hat of a _padre_ I felt a little uneasiness.
That might be the rock on which my ship of state would founder, for
no man has as yet been able to successfully antagonize the religious
elements in one of these hide-bound republics.
Perhaps half an hour more passed--I could not say exactly, as I had no
means of measuring time.
Then I heard quick footsteps that I knew must indicate Robbins’ coming;
instinctively I felt there was something wrong, else he would not
return in such a hurry.
I stepped over and opened the door just as he arrived outside, and as
the light in the room fell on his rugged features I realized that my
guess must have been pretty near the truth.
There was something out of joint.
“Well, what is it, Mr. Secretary?” I asked, grimly.
“Nothing much, only old Toreado has refused to stay dead; he has
reappeared, is haranguing the boys, denouncing us; you are already a
‘has been,’ and I reckon they’ll soon follow me here demanding tropical
vengeance. We must levant, Morgan, my boy.”