fine here. Andy's a good, trustworthy man.'
'I know, but —'
'Darling, don't worry so.' Saying that, she turned herself. The bed creaked as she brought the white of belly and breast into the pale glow from outdoors. They lay back gently; she touched him with her hip. Mouth against his face, she murmured, 'Not tonight. A husband must attend to certain duties, you know.'
Drowsing afterward, both woke to a wild, raw sound out in the night.
'Dear God, what's that?' She started up, bracing her hands on the sheet.
The cry came again, then went echoing away. They heard birds roused in the night thickets. Downstairs a house woman called an anxious question. The sound wasn't repeated.
Madeline shuddered. 'It sounded like some wild animal.'
'It's a panther cry. That is, an imitation of one. Now and again the nigras will use it to frighten white people.'
'There's no one here who would want to do such a —'
She stopped and pressed against his back, shivering again.
30
A momentous excitement filled Washington that night. The city resounded with the grind and rumble of wagons moving, the thuds and flinty ring of horsemen galloping, the shouted songs of regiments marching to the Virginia bridges. It was Monday, the fifteenth of July.
George had spent the day trying to get a hundred personal details in order — it seemed that many, anyway — in preparation for the arrival of Constance and the children. At half past nine, he entered Willard's main dining room. His brother waved from a table near the center.
George felt stiff and ridiculous carrying the French chapeau, with its clutter of devices, authorized for general staff officers: gold strap, extra braid, brass eagle, black cockade. He had purchased the cheapest regulation sword available, a tinny weapon good only for show. That was all right; he would wear it as seldom as possible. The damned hat, too.
It seemed queer to be back in uniform, queerer still to be greeting his own brother in a hotel in wartime. George had sent a message over to Alexandria suggesting supper, and it had gotten through.
'God preserve us — what elegance!' Billy said as George sat down. 'And I see you outrank me, Captain.'
'Let's have none of that or I'll put you on report,' George growled good-naturedly. He found it hard to arrange himself and the sword on the chair without embarrassing contortions. 'I'll probably be a major in the next month or so. Everyone in the department is due to move up one or two grades.'
'How do you like Ordnance so far?'
'I don't.'
'Then why on earth —?'
'We must all occasionally do things we don't like. I think I can be useful to the department. I wouldn't be there otherwise.' He lit one of his cigars, which induced a coughing spasm in the hovering waiter. George barked selections from the menu, inwardly amused when he realized he sounded like a West Point upper classman hectoring a plebe. He had never cared for soldiering, but it came easily. The waiter's pencil flew.
'I'll have the veal chops too,' Billy said. The waiter left, and the brothers sipped their whiskeys. 'You know, George, maybe you won't have a chance to do anything in the department. One sweep to Richmond and it could be all over. McDowell's moving tonight.'
Nodding, George said, 'You'd have to be dumb and blind not to notice. I had advance warning from Stanley. We had dinner this noon.'
Billy looked guilty. 'Should we have invited him tonight?'
'Yes, but I'm glad we didn't. Besides, Isabel probably wouldn't let him out.'
'Your note said Constance will arrive in the morning. Do you have rooms?'
'Right here. A suite. Expensive as hell, but I couldn't get anything else.'
'Willard's is packed. How did you manage it?'
'Cameron managed it somehow. I gather the secretary can rig or arrange anything.' He puffed the cigar. 'Are you as fit as you look?'
'Yes, I'm doing well — except for missing Brett a lot. I have a splendid commanding officer. Much more religious than I am, but a fine engineer.'
'On speaking terms with God, is he? Got to keep track of fellows like that. We may need all available help. I watched some volunteers drilling on the mall this afternoon.'
'Bad?'
'Incredibly.'
'How many men is McDowell marching into Virginia?'
'I heard thirty thousand.' Another puff. 'I'm sure the correct figure will be in print tomorrow. We can write Old Bory for confirmation. I'm told he gets the local papers delivered by courier every day.'
Billy laughed, amazed. 'I've never been in a war, the way you have. But I never imagined it would be carried on this way.'
'Don't fool yourself. This isn't war, it's — well, who knows what to call it? A carnival. A convocation of zealous amateurs led by a lot of politicians everybody trusts and a few professionals they don't. Maybe it's an exhibit fit for Barnum's Museum — it's that bizarre.' The waiter brought steaming bowls of fat oysters in a milky broth.
'Tell you one thing,' George continued as he put his cigar aside and spooned up stew. 'To speed the end of the war, I'd certainly arm all the blacks pouring in from the South.'
'You'd arm the contrabands?'
George was put off by Billy's disapproving expression. He shrugged. 'Why not? I suspect they'd fight harder than some of the white gentlemen I've seen skylarking around town.'
'But they aren't citizens. The Dred Scott case said so.'
'True — if you believe the decision was right. I don't.' He leaned over the table. 'Billy, secession is the powder that blew up to start this war, but the fuse was slavery. It's the moral heart of all this trouble. Shouldn't black men be allowed to fight for their own cause?'
'Maybe. I mean, you may be right politically, but I know the army. There'd be violent reactions if you introduced Negro troops. The change would be too drastic.'
'You're saying white soldiers would have no faith in colored ones?'
'No, they wouldn't.'
'Including you?'
Concealing his embarrassment behind a faint defiance, Billy answered, 'Yes. I may be wrong, but that's how I feel.'
'Then perhaps we'd better change the subject.'
They did, and the rest of the meal proved pleasant. Afterward they walked out to the avenue in time to watch a regiment of foot ramble by, bayoneted muskets pointing every which direction. The drummers might as well have tapped their cadence on the moon.
'Take care of yourself, Billy,' George said in a quiet voice. 'The big one is coming — maybe within the week.'
'I'll be all right. I'm not sure our unit would be sent on to Richmond with the others anyway.'
'Why is everyone so confident of reaching Richmond? People act as if the rebs are all fools and fops. I know some of the West Point men who went south. They're the cream. As for the rank and file, Southern boys are accustomed to the fields, to rough living out of doors. Their way of life favors them. So don't underestimate them. And heed my advice. Be careful. For Brett, if for no one else.'
