"I am going to follow her," whispered Nighthawk, placing his lips close to my ear, "she is at her devil's work here in Richmond, as Swartz was--."

Suddenly he was silent; a light step was heard. A form approached us, pa.s.sed by. I could see that it was a woman, wrapped from head to foot in a gray cloak.

She pa.s.sed so close to us that the skirt of her cloak nearly brushed our persons, and disappeared toward the gate. The iron latch was heard to click, the door of the carriage to open and close, and then the vehicle began to move.

Nighthawk took two quick steps in the direction of the gate.

"I am going to follow the carriage, colonel," he whispered. "I have been waiting here to do so. I will tell you more another time. Give my respects to General Mohun, and tell him I am on his business!"

With which words Nighthawk glided into the darkness--pa.s.sed through the gate without sound from the latch--and running noiselessly, disappeared on the track of the carriage.

I gazed after him for a moment, said to myself, "well this night is to be full of incident!"--and going straight to the door in the rear of the house, pa.s.sed through it, went to the door of Mr. X-----'s room, and knocked.

"Come in," said the voice of that gentleman; and opening the door I entered.

VI.

THE HEART OF A STATESMAN.

Mr. X----- was seated in front of an excellent coal fire, in his great armchair, near a table covered with papers, and between his lips was the eternal cigar.

At sight of me he rose courteously--for he never omitted any form of politeness--and cordially shook my hand.

"I am glad to see you, colonel," he said. "Just from the army? Have a cigar."

And he extended toward me an elegant cigar-case full of Havanas, which he took from the table. I declined, informing him that I had been smoking all the evening in the sanctum of the editor of the _Examiner_.

"Ah! you have been to see Daniel," said Mr. X-----. "He is a very remarkable man. I do not approve of the course of his paper, and he has attacked me very bitterly on more than one occasion. But I bear no grudge against him. He is honest in his opinions. I admire the pluck of the man, and the splendid pith of his writings."

"My views accord with your own," I replied.

"Everybody thinks with us," said Mr. X-----, puffing at his cigar. "It is only ignoramuses who deny this man's courage and ability. I have never done injustice to Daniel--and I call that 'liberal' in myself, colonel! He has flayed me alive on three or four occasions, and it is not his fault that I am enjoying this excellent Havana."

"I read the attacks," I said.

"Were they not fearful?" said Mr. X-----, smiling tranquilly. "After reading them, I regarded myself as a moral and political monster!"

I could not forbear from laughing as the portly statesman uttered the words. He seemed to derive a species of careless enjoyment from the recollection of his "flayings."

"I expect to talk over these little affairs with Daniel hereafter," he said. "We shall have a great deal of time on our hands--in Canada."

And Mr. X----- smiled, and went on smoking. It was the second time he had uttered that phrase--"in Canada."

I laughed now, and said:--

"You continue to regard Toronto, or Montreal, or Quebec, as your future residence?"

"Yes; I think I prefer Quebec. The view from Cape Diamond is superb; and there is something English and un-American in the whole place, which I like. The Plains of Abraham bring back the history of the past,--which is more agreeable to me at least than the history of the present."

"You adhere more than ever, I see, to your opinion that we are going to fail?"

"It is not an opinion, my dear colonel, but a certainty."

My head sank. In the army I had been hopeful. When I came to Richmond, those high intelligences, John M. Daniel and Mr. X-----, did not even attempt to conceal their gloomy views.

"I see you think me a croaker," said Mr. X-----, tranquilly smoking, "and doubtless say to yourself, colonel, that I am injudicious in thus discouraging a soldier, who is fighting for this cause. A year ago I would not have spoken to you thus, for a year ago there was still some hope. Now, to discourage you--if thinking men, fighting for a principle, like yourself, _could_ be discouraged--would result in no injury: for the cause is lost. On the contrary, as the friend of that most excellent gentleman, your father, I regard it as a sort of duty to speak thus--to say to you 'Don't throw away your life for nothing. Do your duty, but do no more than your duty, for we are doomed.'"

I could find no reply to these gloomy words.

"The case is past praying for," said Mr. X----- composedly, "the whole fabric of the Confederacy at this moment is a mere sh.e.l.l. It is going to crumble in the spring, and another flag will float over the Virginia capitol yonder--what you soldiers call 'The Gridiron.' The country is tired. The administration is unpopular, and the departments are mismanaged. I am candid, you see. The days of the Confederacy are numbered, and worse than all, n.o.body knows it. We ought to negotiate for the best terms, but the man who advises that, will be hissed at and called a 'coward.' It is an invidious thing to do. It is much grander to shout 'Death sooner than surrender!' I shouted that l.u.s.tily as long as there was any hope--now, I think it my duty as a statesman, and public functionary, to say, 'There are worse things than death--let us try and avoid them by making terms.' I say that to you--I do not say so on the streets--the people would tear me to pieces, and with their sources of information they would be right in doing so."

"Is it possible that all is lost? That negotiations are our only hope?"

"Yes; and confidentially speaking--this is a State secret, my dear colonel--these will soon be made."

"Indeed!"

"You think that impossible, but it is the impossible which invariably takes place in this world. We are going to send commissioners to meet Mr. Lincoln in Hampton Roads--and it will be useless."

"Why?"

"We are going to demand such terms as he will not agree to. The commissioners will return. The war will continue to its legitimate military end, which I fix about the last days of March."

"Good heaven! so soon!"

"Yes."

"In three months?"

Mr. X----- nodded.

"General Lee may lengthen the term a little by his skill and courage, but it is not in _his_ power, even, to resist beyond the month of April."

"The army of Northern Virginia, driven by the enemy!"

"Forced to surrender, or annihilated; and in Virginia--it will never join Johnston. Its numbers are too small to cut a path through the enemy. Grant will be at the Southside road before the first of April; Lee will evacuate his lines, which he will be compelled to hold to the last moment; he will retreat; be intercepted; be hunted down toward Lynchburg, and either surrender, or be butchered. Cheerful, isn't it?"

"It is frightful!"

"Yes, Lee's men are starving now. The country is tired of the war, and disgusted with the manner in which we manage things. No recruits are arriving. The troops are not _deserting_, but they are leaving the army without permission, to succor their starving families. Lee's last hours are approaching, and we are playing the comedy here in Richmond with an immense appearance of reality; dancing, and fiddling, and laughing on the surface of the volcano. I play my part among the rest. I risk my head more even, perhaps, than the military leaders. I take a philosophic view, however, of the present and future. If I am not hung, I will go to Canada; meanwhile, I smoke my cigar, colonel."

And Mr. X----- lazily threw away his stump, and lit a fresh Havana. It is impossible to imagine any thing more careless than his att.i.tude.

This man was either very brave or frightfully apathetic.