That was an idle boast, though made but to myself.
I had not yet met the woman.
THE BARONESS HELENA
Woman is seldom merciful
to the man who is timid.
—Edward
Bulwer Lytton.
There was one of our dim street lights at a central
corner on old Pennsylvania Avenue, and under it, after
a long walk, I paused for a glance at the inscription
on my sealed document. I had not looked at it
before in the confusion of my somewhat hurried mental
processes. In addition to the name and street
number, in Calhoun’s writing, I read this memorandum:
“Knock at the third door in the second block
beyond M Street”
I recalled the nearest cross street; but I must confess
the direction still seemed somewhat cryptic.
Puzzled, I stood under the lamp, shielding the face
of the note under my cloak to keep off the rain, as
I studied it.
The sound of wheels behind me on the muddy pavement
called my attention, and I looked about. A carriage
came swinging up to the curb where I stood. It
was driven rapidly, and as it approached the door swung
open. I heard a quick word, and the driver pulled
up his horses. I saw the light shine through
the door on a glimpse of white satin. I looked
again. Yes, it was a beckoning hand! The
negro driver looked at me inquiringly.
Ah, well, I suppose diplomacy under the stars runs
much the same in all ages. I have said that I
loved Elisabeth, but also said I was not yet thirty.
Moreover, I was a gentleman, and here might be a lady
in need of help. I need not say that in a moment
I was at the side of the carriage. Its occupant
made no exclamation of surprise; in fact, she moved
back upon the other side of the seat in the darkness,
as though to make room for me!
I was absorbed in a personal puzzle. Here was
I, messenger upon some important errand, as I might
guess. But white satin and a midnight adventure—at
least, a gentleman might bow and ask if he could be
of assistance!
A dark framed face, whose outlines I could only dimly
see in the faint light of the street lamp, leaned
toward me. The same small hand nervously reached
out, as though in request.
I now very naturally stepped closer. A pair of
wide and very dark eyes was looking into mine.
I could now see her face. There was no smile upon
her lips. I had never seen her before, that was
sure—nor did I ever think to see her like
again; I could say that even then, even in the half
light. Just a trifle foreign, the face; somewhat
dark, but not too dark; the lips full, the eyes luminous,
the forehead beautifully arched, chin and cheek beautifully
rounded, nose clean-cut and straight, thin but not
pinched. There was nothing niggard about her.
She was magnificent—a magnificent woman.
I saw that she had splendid jewels at her throat,
in her ears—a necklace of diamonds, long
