“Yes,” said de Mello, “I have played it before.” He shook hands and walked to the door.
The President accompanied him. “It is possible,” he said earnestly, “that I shall want you back here before you have gone very far; there are many signs of trouble in the city, and after all Strelitz is still on the frontier waiting for a chance. If I send for you, you will come?” There was almost an appealing note in his tone.
“Come?” said the Admiral. “Of course I will come—full steam ahead. I have had my big gun trained on the Parliament House for the last month, and I mean to let it off one day. Oh, you can trust the fleet.”
“Thank God I never doubted that,” said the President with some emotion, and shaking de Mello’s hand warmly, he returned to his writing-table. He felt that the Admiral was thoroughly loyal to the Government.
These men who live their lives in great machines, become involved in the mechanism themselves. De Mello had lived on warships all his days, and neither knew nor cared for anything else. Landsmen and civilians he despised with a supreme professional contempt. Such parts of the world as bordered on the sea, he regarded as possible targets of different types; for the rest he cared nothing. With equal interest he would burst his shells on patriots struggling to be free or foreign enemies, on a hostile fort or on his native town. As long as the authority to fire reached him through the proper channel, he was content; after that he regarded the question from a purely technical standpoint.
The afternoon was far advanced before the President finished the varied labours of his office. “There is a great meeting tonight, is there not?” he asked Miguel.
“Yes,” said the Secretary, “in the City-Hall; Savrola is going to speak.”
“Have you arranged about an opposition?”
“Some of the secret police are going to make a little, I believe; Colonel Sorrento has arranged that. But I fancy Señor Savrola’s party are rather displeased with him, as it is.”
“Ah,” said Molara, “I know his powers; he will tear their very hearts out with his words. He is a terrible force; we must take every precaution. I suppose the troops have been ordered to be under arms? There is nothing he cannot do with a crowd—curse him!”
“The Colonel was here this morning; he told me he was making arrangements.”
“It is good,” said the President; “he knows his own safety is involved. Where do I dine tonight?”
“With Señor Louvet, at the Home Office, an official dinner.”
“How detestable! Still he has a plain cook and he will be worth watching tonight. He gets in such a state of terror when Savrola holds forth that he is ridiculous. I hate cowards, but they make the world the merrier.”
He bade the Secretary good night and left the room. Outside he met Lucile. “Dearest,” he said, “I am dining out tonight, an official dinner at Louvet’s. It is a nuisance, but I must go. Perhaps I shall not be back till late. I am sorry to leave you like this, but in these busy days I can hardly call my soul my own.”
“Never mind, Antonio,” she replied; “I know how you are pressed with work. What has happened about the English affair?”
“I don’t like the situation at all,” said Molara. “They have a Jingo Government in power and have sent ships as an answer to our note. It is most unfortunate. Now I have to send the fleet away—at such a moment.” He groaned moodily.
“I told Sir Richard that we had to think of the situation here, and that the despatch was meant for domestic purposes,” said Lucile.
“I think,” said the President, “that the English Government also have to keep the electorate amused. It is a Conservative ministry; they must keep things going abroad to divert the public mind from advanced legislation. What, more still, Miguel?”
“Yes, Sir; this bag has just arrived, with several important despatches which require your immediate attention.”
The President looked for a moment as if he would like to tell Miguel to take himself and his despatches to the infernal regions; but he repressed the inclination. “Good, I will come. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow, my dear, till then, farewell,” and giving her a weary smile he walked off.
Thus it is that great men enjoy the power they risk their lives to gain and often meet their deaths to hold.
Lucile was left alone, not for the first time when she had wanted companionship and sympathy. She was conscious of an unsatisfactory sensation with regard to existence generally. It was one of those moments when the prizes and penalties of life seem equally stale and futile. She sought refuge in excitement. The project she had conceived the night before began to take actual shape in her mind; yes, she would hear him speak. Going to her room she rang the bell. The maid came quickly. “What time is the meeting tonight?”
“At eight, Your Excellency,” said the girl.
“You have a ticket for it?”
“Yes, my brother—”
“Well, give it to me; I want to hear this man speak. He will attack the Government; I must be there to report to the President.”
The maid looked astonished, but gave up the ticket meekly. For six years she had been Lucile’s maid, and was devoted to her young and beautiful mistress. “What will Your Excellency wear?” was her only remark.
“Something dark, with a thick veil,” said Lucile. “Don’t speak of this to anyone.”
“Oh no, Your Ex—”
“Not even to your brother.”
“Oh, no, Your Excellency.”
“Say I
