'My —? Dear woman, I have never mentioned —' 'No. Another nurse did.'
His pink changed to red. 'Damn her. Which one?' 'Actually, it was several. In this hospital and also in the one previous to this. Your reputation for protecting your wife's good name is widespread. They say you protect it so zealously, hardly anyone knows she exists.'
Taking wicked delight in his reaction, she lifted her right arm, a peremptory signal that he should remove his hand. He was too astonished. She did it for him, dropping the hand as if it were soiled.
'I'm flattered by your attentions, Dr. Foyle, but I think we should return to our duties.' 'Attentions? What attentions?' He snarled it. 'I wanted a private discussion on a medical matter, nothing more.' He jerked down the front of his blue coat, adjusted his sash, and quick-marched into the ballroom. In other circumstances Virgilia would have laughed.
'Well, Miss Alcott?' Virgilia asked when the tired nurses ate their first full meal, at eight that night. They had worked without interruption. 'What do you think of the nursing service?'
Worn out and irritable, Louisa Alcott said, 'How candid may I be?'
'As candid as you wish. We are all volunteers — all equal.'
'Well, then — to begin — this place is a pesthole. The mattresses are hard as plaster, the bedding's filthy, the air putrid, and the food — have you tasted this beef? It must have been put up for the boys of '76. The pork brought out for supper might be a secret weapon of the enemy, it looked so terrible. And the stewed blackberries more closely resembled stewed cockroaches.'
She was so emphatic she generated laughter among the women on both sides of the trestle table. She looked tearful, then laughed, too.
Virgilia said, 'We know all that, Miss Alcott. The question is — will you stick?'
'Oh, yes, Miss Hazard. I may not be experienced at bathing naked men — at least I was not until today — but I shall definitely stick.' As if to prove it, she put a chunk of the beef in her mouth and chewed.
The familiar hospital sounds crept to Virgilia in her room that night. Cries of pain. The weeping of grown men. A woman on duty singing a lullaby.
She was restless, remembering the awkward, seriocomical encounter with Foyle. How marvelous that he had wanted her. Not a field hand, not some fugitive, but a respectable white man. She had today discovered a truth only suspected before. Her body had a power over men, and because of that, she had power as a person. The discovery was as dazzling as a display of rockets on Independence Day.
Sometime in the future, when she met a man more solid and worthy than the randy little surgeon, she would put the newfound power to use. To lift herself higher than she had ever thought possible. To help her find a place to play a truly important part in the final crushing of the South.
In the dark, she slipped her hands down to her breasts and squeezed. She began to cry, the tears streaming while she smiled an exalted smile no one could see.
62
That same Tuesday, the day on which General Banks was to relieve General Butler in New Orleans, Elkanah Bent was summoned before the old commandant at eleven o'clock. He had been steeling himself for an inquiry about the brawl at Madame Conti's but hadn't expected the inquiry officer to be the general himself.
'A fine business to deal with on my last day with the department.' Petulant, Butler whacked a file in front of him. Bent was numb. A bad tone was already set, and he hadn't said a word.
Ben Butler was a squat, round man, bald and perpetually squinting. His eyes went different ways, and subordinates joked that if you looked at the wrong one, the bad one, he would demote you. He seemed in that kind of mood now.
'I suppose it never occurred to you that the proprietress of the house would file a complaint with the civil authorities and with me as well?'
'General, I —' Bent tried to strengthen his voice but couldn't. 'Sir, I plead guilty to effecting rough justice. But the woman is a prostitute, no matter how grand her manners. Her employees insulted you, then attacked me.' He fingered the healing nail marks. 'When I and others protested, she provoked us with more insults. I admit matters got somewhat out of control —'
'That's putting a nice gloss on it,' Butler interrupted, squinting harder than ever. His voice had the nasal quality Bent associated with New England. 'You totally destroyed the place. To go by the book, I should request that General Banks convene a court-martial.'
Bent almost fainted. Seconds went by. Then Butler said, 'Personally, I would prefer to exonerate you completely.' Buoyed, Bent was quickly cast down again: 'Can't do it, though. You're one reason, she's the other.'
Confused, Bent muttered, 'Sir?'
'Plain enough, isn't it? It is because of your record that I can't extend leniency.' He opened the file and removed several pages; the topmost ones had yellowed. 'It's covered with blemishes, and you have now added another. As for the woman, of course you're right; she's a prostitute, and I know she's vilified me more than once. But if I hanged everyone who did that, there'd be no more hemp in the Northern Hemisphere.'
Bent's forehead began to ooze and glisten. With a grunt, Butler launched himself from his chair. Hands behind his back and paunch preceding him, he walked in small circles, like a pigeon.
'Unfortunately, Madame Conti's charges run deeper than inciting to vandalism, which is bad enough. She accuses you of theft of a valuable painting. She accuses you of assault on her person in order to accomplish that theft.'
'Both — damned lies.' He gulped.
'You deny the charges?'
'On my honor, General. On my sacred oath as an officer of the United States Army.'
Butler knuckled his mustache, chewed his lip, stepped in a circle again. 'She won't like that. She hinted that if she could get her property back, she might drop the charges.'
Something told Bent it was a critical moment. Told him to attack or he'd be finished. 'General — if I am not speaking out of turn — why is it necessary to accommodate in any way a woman who is both a traitor and disreputable?'
'That's the point,' Butler exclaimed crossly. 'She isn't as disreputable as one might expect. Her family goes back generations in this town. Haven't you ever noticed the street in the old quarter that bears her last name?' Of course he had, but he had drawn no conclusions from it. 'What I'm telling you, Colonel, is that some of Madame Conti's clients are also friends and highly placed in the municipal government. They're men I dislike but men I was forced to depend upon to keep the cily running. General Banks is in the same unfortunate position. So I have to throw her a bone, don't you see?'
That was it, then; accommodation with traitors. In the wake of the realization came rage. Butler, meantime, sank back into his chair, a little comic-opera man. Ludicrous. But he had dangerous power.
'I suppose I could put you in command of a black regiment' — Bent almost fainted a second time — 'but I doubt Madame Conti knows I can't find white officers for that duty. She wouldn't see the nicety of the punishment. Regrettably, I must find a more visible alternative.'
From under the contents of the file — the record of humiliations and reversals engineered by others — Butler plucked a crisp new sheet, the ink stark black. He spun the order around and laid it on the desk for Bent to read. The junior officer was too dazed and upset.
'Effective today, your brevet is revoked. That will keep the bitch from barking till I get out of town. Someone from General Banks's staff will speak to you about financial reparations. I am afraid you may spend the rest of your army career paying for this little escapade, Lieutenant Bent. Dismissed.'
Lieutenant Bent? After sixteen years, he was to be reduced to the rank he had when he came out of the
