“I have heard vaguely of some such things, Madam,” I said.  “I know that in Europe they have still the fight which we sought to settle when we left that country for this one.”

She nodded.  “So then, at last,” she went on, “still young, having learned something and having now those means of carrying on my studies which I required, I came to this last of the countries, America, where, if anywhere, hope for mankind remains.  Washington has impressed me more than any capital of the world.”

“How long have you been in Washington?” I asked.

“Now you begin to question—­now you show at last curiosity!  Well, then, I shall answer.  For more than one year, perhaps more than two, perhaps more than three!”

“Impossible!” I shook my head.  “A woman like you could not be concealed—­not if she owned a hundred hidden places such as this.”

“Oh, I was known,” she said.  “You have heard of me, you knew of me?”

I still shook my head.  “No,” said I, “I have been far in the West for several years, and have come to Washington but rarely.  Bear me out, I had not been there my third day before I found you!”

We sat silent for some moments, fixedly regarding each other.  I have said that a more beautiful face than hers I had never seen.  There sat upon it now many things—­youth, eagerness, ambition, a certain defiance; but, above all, a pleading pathos!  I could not find it in my heart, eager as I was, to question her further.  Apparently she valued this reticence.

“You condemn me?” she asked at length.  “Because I live alone, because quiet rumor wags a tongue, you will judge me by your own creed and not by mine?”

I hesitated before I answered, and deliberated.  “Madam, I have already told you that I would not.  I say once more that I accredit you with living up to your own creed, whatever that may have been.”

She drew a long breath in turn.  “Monsieur, you have done yourself no ill turn in that.”

“It was rumored in diplomatic circles, of course, that you were in touch with the ministry of England,” I ventured.  “I myself saw that much.”

“Naturally.  Of Mexico also!  At least, as you saw in our little carriage race, Mexico was desirous enough to establish some sort of communication with my humble self!”

“Calhoun was right!” I exclaimed.  “He was entirely right, Madam, in insisting that I should bring you to him that morning, whether or not you wished to go.”

“Whim fits with whim sometimes. `Twas his whim to see me, mine to go.”

“I wonder what the Queen of Sheba would have said had Solomon met her thus!”