Part 19 (2/2)
”What do you mean?” the girl asked with a slight frown.
”That your Democratic party has still a majority in both the House and the Senate. If the Southern members simply sit still in their places, the incoming administration of Abraham Lincoln will be absolutely powerless. The new President can not even call a cabinet to his side without their consent.”
”The North has elected their President,” Jennie answered with decision.
”The South scorns to stoop to the dishonor of cheating them out of it.
They've won the election. They can have it. The South will go and build a government of her own--as we built this one--”
”And fight twenty-three million people of the North?”
”If forced to--yes!”
”With the certainty of an uprising of your slaves at home?”
Jennie laughed.
”Our slaves would fight for us if we'd let them--”
A curious smile twitched the lips of the Italian.
”You speak with great confidence, Miss Barton!”
”Yes. I know what I'm talking about.”
The keen eyes watched her from the shadows of the straight thick brows.
”And your Senators who took a solemn oath in entering this Chamber to support the Const.i.tution will leave their seats in violation of that oath?”
The Southern girl flushed, turned with quick purpose to answer, laughed and said with winning frankness:
”You don't mind if I give you my father's answer in his own words? I know them by heart--”
”By all means.”
”An oath to support the Const.i.tution of the United States does _not_ bind the man who takes it to support an administration elected by a mob whose purpose is to subvert the Const.i.tution!”
”Oh,--I see,” was the quiet response.
”You speak English with perfection, Signor!” Jennie said with a smile.
”Yes, Mad'moiselle, I've spent my life in the Diplomatic service.”
He bowed gravely, lifted his head and caught the smile on the lips of the Secretary of War standing in the shadows of the doorway of the Diplomatic gallery.
The stately figure of John C. Breckinridge, the Vice-President, suddenly mounted the dais and his piercing eyes swept the a.s.sembly. He rapped for order and the silence which followed was as the hush of death.
”The curtain rises on our drama, Mad'moiselle,” the smooth even voice said.
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