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  CHAPTER XXXVI

  THE PALO ALTO BALL

  A beautiful woman pleases the eye, a good woman pleases the heart; one is a jewel, the other a treasure.--_Napoleon I_.

  On the evening of that following day in May, the sun hung red and roundover a distant unknown land along the Rio Grande. In that country, noiron trails as yet had come. The magic of the wire, so recently appliedto the service of man, was as yet there unknown. Word traveled slowly byhorses and mules and carts. There came small news from that far-offcountry, half tropic, covered with palms and crooked dwarfed growth ofmesquite and chaparral. The long-horned cattle lived in these densethickets, the spotted jaguar, the wolf, the ocelot, the javelina, manysmaller creatures not known in our northern lands. In the loam along thestream the deer left their tracks, mingled with those of the wildturkeys and of countless water fowl. It was a far-off, unknown, unvaluedland. Our flag, long past the Sabine, had halted at the Nueces. Now itwas to advance across this wild region to the Rio Grande. Thus did smugJames Polk keep his promises!

  Among these tangled mesquite thickets ran sometimes long bayous, madefrom the overflow of the greater rivers--_resacas_, as the natives callthem. Tall palms sometimes grew along the bayous, for the country ishalf tropic. Again, on the drier ridges, there might be taller detachedtrees, heavier forests--_palo alto_, the natives call them. In some suchplace as this, where the trees were tall, there was fired the first gunof our war in the Southwest. There were strange noises heard here in thewilderness, followed by lesser noises, and by human groans. Some facesthat night were upturned to the moon--the same moon which swam sogloriously over Washington. Taylor camped closer to the Rio Grande. Thefight was next to begin by the lagoon called the Resaca de la Palma. Butthat night at the capital that same moon told us nothing of all this. Wedid not hear the guns. It was far from Palo Alto to our ports ofGalveston or New Orleans. Our cockaded army made its own history in itsown unreported way.

  We at the White House ball that night also made history in our ownunrecorded way. As our army was adding to our confines on the Southwest,so there were other, though secret, forces which added to our territoryin the far Northwest. As to this and as to the means by which it cameabout, I have already been somewhat plain.

  It was a goodly company that assembled for the grand ball, the firstone in the second season of Mr. Polk's somewhat confused and discordantadministration. Social matters had started off dour enough. Mrs. Polkwas herself of strict religious practice, and I imagine it had takensomewhat of finesse to get her consent to these festivities. It wascalled sometimes the diplomats' ball. At least there was diplomacy backof it. It was mere accident which set this celebration upon the veryevening of the battle of Palo Alto, May eighth, 1846.

  By ten o'clock there were many in the great room which had been madeready for the dancing, and rather a brave company it might have beencalled. We had at least the splendor of the foreign diplomats' uniformsfor our background, and to this we added the bravest of our attire, eachone in his own individual fashion, I fear. Thus my friend Jack Dandridgewas wholly resplendent in a new waistcoat of his own devising, and anevening coat which almost swept the floor as he executed the evolutionsof his western style of dancing. Other gentlemen were, perhaps, moregrave and staid. We had with us at least one man, old in governmentservice, who dared the silk stockings and knee breeches of an earliergeneration. Yet another wore the white powdered queue, which might havebeen more suited for his grandfather. The younger men of the day woretheir hair long, in fashion quite different, yet this did not detractfrom the distinction of some of the faces which one might have seenamong them--some of them to sleep all too soon upturned to the moon inanother and yet more bitter war, aftermath of this with Mexico. The tallstock was still in evidence at that time, and the ruffled shirts gavesomething of a formal and old-fashioned touch to the assembly. Such asthey were, in their somewhat varied but not uninteresting attire, thebest of Washington were present. Invitation was wholly by card. Somesaid that Mrs. Polk wrote these invitations in her own hand, though thiswe may be permitted to doubt.

  Whatever might have been said as to the democratic appearance of ourgentlemen in Washington, our women were always our great reliance, andthese at least never failed to meet the approval of the most sneering ofour foreign visitors. Thus we had present that night, as I remember, twoyoung girls both later to become famous in Washington society; tall andslender young Terese Chalfant, later to become Mrs. Pugh of Ohio, and toreceive at the hands of Denmark's minister, who knelt before her at alater public ball, that jeweled clasp which his wife had bade himpresent to the most beautiful woman he found in America. Here also wasMiss Harriet Williams of Georgetown, later to become the second wife ofthat Baron Bodisco of Russia who had represented his government with ussince the year 1838--a tall, robust, blonde lady she later grew to be.Brown's Hotel, home of many of our statesmen and their ladies, turnedout a full complement. Mr. Clay was there, smiling, though I fear nonetoo happy. Mr. Edward Everett, as it chanced, was with us at that time.We had Sam Houston of Texas, who would not, until he appeared upon thefloor, relinquish the striped blanket which distinguished him--though asplendid figure of a man he appeared when he paced forth in eveningdress, a part of which was a waistcoat embroidered in such fancy asmight have delighted the eye of his erstwhile Indian wife had she beenthere to see it. Here and there, scattered about the floor, there mighthave been seen many of the public figures of America at that time, menfrom North and South and East and West, and from many other nationsbeside our own.

  Under Mrs. Polk's social administration, we did not waltz, but our ballbegan with a stately march, really a grand procession, in its waydistinctly interesting, in scarlet and gold and blue and silks, and allthe flowered circumstance of brocades and laces of our ladies. And afterour march we had our own polite Virginia reel, merry as any dance, yetstately too.

  I was late in arriving that night, for it must be remembered that thiswas but my second day in town, and I had had small chance to take mychief's advice, and to make myself presentable for an occasion such asthis. I was fresh from my tailor, and very new-made when I entered theroom. I came just in time to see what I was glad to see; that is to say,the keeping of John Calhoun's promise to Helena von Ritz.

  It was not to be denied that there had been talk regarding this lady,and that Calhoun knew it, though not from me. Much of it was idle talk,based largely upon her mysterious life. Beyond that, a woman beautifulas she has many enemies among her sex. There were dark glances for herthat night, I do not deny, before Mr. Calhoun changed them. For, howeverJohn Calhoun was rated by his enemies, the worst of these knew well hisausterely spotless private life, and his scrupulous concern for decorum.

  Beautiful she surely was. Her ball gown was of light golden stuff, andthere was a coral wreath upon her hair, and her dancing slippers were ofcoral hue. There was no more striking figure upon the floor than she.Jewels blazed at her throat and caught here and there the filmy folds ofher gown. She was radiant, beautiful, apparently happy. She camemysteriously enough; but I knew that Mr. Calhoun's carriage had beensent for her. I learned also that he had waited for her arrival.

  As I first saw Helena von Ritz, there stood by her side Doctor SamuelWard, his square and stocky figure not undignified in his dancing dress,the stiff gray mane of his hair waggling after its custom as he spokeemphatically over something with her. A gruff man, Doctor Ward, butunder his gray mane there was a clear brain, and in his broad breastthere beat a large and kindly heart.

  Even as I began to edge my way towards these two, I saw Mr. Calhounhimself approach, tall, gray and thin.

  He was very pale that night; and I knew well enough what effort it costhim to attend any of these functions. Yet he bowed with the grace of ayounger man and offered the baroness an arm. Then, methinks, allWashington gasped a bit. Not all Washington knew what had gone forwardbetween these two. Not all Washington knew what that couple meant asthey marched in the grand procession that night--wha
t they meant forAmerica. Of all those who saw, I alone understood.

  So they danced; he with the dignity of his years, she with the gracewhich was the perfection of dancing, the perfection of courtesy and ofdignity also, as though she knew and valued to the full what was offeredto her now by John Calhoun. Grave, sweet and sad Helena von Ritz seemedto me that night. She was wholly unconscious of those who looked andwhispered. Her face was pale and rapt as that of some devotee.

  Mr. Polk himself stood apart, and plainly enough saw this little mattergo forward. When Mr. Calhoun approached with the Baroness von Ritz uponhis arm, Mr. Polk was too much politician to hesitate or to inquire. Heknew that it was safe to follow where John Calhoun led! These twoconversed for a few moments. Thus, I fancy, Helena von Ritz had herfirst and last acquaintance with one of our politicians to whom fategave far more than his deserts. It was the fortune of Mr. Polk to gainfor this country Texas, California and Oregon--not one of them by desertof his own! My heart has often been bitter when I have recalled thatlittle scene. Politics so unscrupulous can not always have a JohnCalhoun, a Helena von Ritz, to correct, guard and guide.

  After this the card of Helena von Ritz might well enough indeed beenfull had she cared further to dance. She excused herself gracefully,saying that after the honor which had been done her she could not askmore. Still, Washington buzzed; somewhat of Europe as well. That mighthave been called the triumph of Helena von Ritz. She felt it not. But Icould see that she gloried in some other thing.

  I approached her as soon as possible. "I am about to go," she said. "Saygood-by to me, now, here! We shall not meet again. Say good-by to me,now, quickly! My father and I are going to leave. The treaty for Oregonis prepared. Now I am done. Yes. Tell me good-by."

  "I will not say it," said I. "I can not."

  She smiled at me. Others might see her lips, her smile. I saw what wasin her eyes. "We must not be selfish," said she. "Come, I must go."

  "Do not go," I insisted. "Wait."

  She caught my meaning. "Surely," she said, "I will stay a little longerfor that one thing. Yes, I wish to see her again, Miss ElisabethChurchill. I hated her. I wish that I might love her now, do you know?Would--would she let me--if she knew?"

  "They say that love is not possible between women," said I. "For my ownpart, I wish with you."

  She interrupted with a light tap of her fan upon my arm. "Look, is notthat she?"

  I turned. A little circle of people were bowing before Mr. Polk, whoheld a sort of levee at one side of the hall. I saw the tall young girlwho at the moment swept a graceful curtsey to the president. My heartsprang to my mouth. Yes, it was Elisabeth! Ah, yes, there flamed up onthe altar of my heart the one fire, lit long ago for her. So we came nowto meet, silently, with small show, in such way as to thrill none butour two selves. She, too, had served, and that largely. And my constantaltar fire had done its part also, strangely, in all this long coil oflarge events. Love--ah, true love wins and rules. It makes our maps. Itmakes our world.

  Among all these distinguished men, these beautiful women, she had herown tribute of admiration. I felt rather than saw that she was in somepale, filmy green, some crepe of China, with skirts and sleeves loopedup with pearls. In her hair were green leaves, simple and sweet andcool. To me she seemed graver, sweeter, than when I last had seen her. Isay, my heart came up into my throat. All I could think was that Iwanted to take her into my arms. All I did was to stand and stare.

  My companion was more expert in social maneuvers. She waited until thecrowd had somewhat thinned about the young lady and her escort. I sawnow with certain qualms that this latter was none other than my whilomfriend Jack Dandridge. For a wonder, he was most unduly sober, and hemade, as I have said, no bad figure in his finery. He was very merry andjust a trifle loud of speech, but, being very intimate in Mr. Polk'shousehold, he was warmly welcomed by that gentleman and by all aroundhim.

  "She is beautiful!" I heard the lady at my arm whisper.

  "Is she beautiful to you?" I asked.

  "Very beautiful!" I heard her catch her breath. "She is good. I wish Icould love her. I wish, I wish--"

  I saw her hands beat together as they did when she was agitated. Iturned then to look at her, and what I saw left me silent. "Come," saidI at last, "let us go to her." We edged across the floor.

  When Elisabeth saw me she straightened, a pallor came across her face.It was not her way to betray much of her emotions. If her head was atrifle more erect, if indeed she paled, she too lacked not in quietself-possession. She waited, with wide straight eyes fixed upon me. Ifound myself unable to make much intelligent speech. I turned to seeHelena von Ritz gazing with wistful eyes at Elisabeth, and I saw theeyes of Elisabeth make some answer. So they spoke some language which Isuppose men never will understand--the language of one woman to another.

  I have known few happier moments in my life than that. Perhaps, afterall, I caught something of the speech between their eyes. Perhaps notall cheap and cynical maxims are true, at least when applied to noblewomen.

  Elisabeth regained her wonted color and more.

  "I was very wrong in many ways," I heard her whisper. For almost thefirst time I saw her perturbed. Helena von Ritz stepped close to her.Amid the crash of the reeds and brasses, amid all the brokenconversation which swept around us, I knew what she said. Low down inthe flounces of the wide embroidered silks, I saw their two hands meet,silently, and cling. This made me happy.

  Of course it was Jack Dandridge who broke in between us. "Ah!" said he,"you jealous beggar, could you not leave me to be happy for one minute?Here you come back, a mere heathen, and proceed to monopolize all ourladies. I have been making the most of my time, you see. I have proposedhalf a dozen times more to Miss Elisabeth, have I not?"

  "Has she given you any answer?" I asked him, smiling.

  "The same answer!"

  "Jack," said I, "I ought to call you out."

  "Don't," said he. "I don't want to be called out. I am getting foundout. That's worse. Well--Miss Elisabeth, may I be the first tocongratulate?"

  "I am glad," said I, with just a slight trace of severity, "that youhave managed again to get into the good graces of Elmhurst. When I lastsaw you, I was not sure that either of us would ever be invited thereagain."

  "Been there every Sunday regularly since you went away," said Jack. "Iam not one of the family in one way, and in another way I am. Honestly,I have tried my best to cut you out. Not that you have not played yourgame well enough, but there never was a game played so well that someother fellow could not win by coppering it. So I coppered everythingyou did--played it for just the reverse. No go--lost even that way. AndI thought _you_ were the most perennial fool of your age andgeneration."

  I checked as gently as I could a joviality which I thought unsuited tothe time. "Mr. Dandridge," said I to him, "you know the Baroness vonRitz?"

  "Certainly! The _particeps criminis_ of our bungled wedding--of course Iknow her!"

  "I only want to say," I remarked, "that the Baroness von Ritz has thatlittle shell clasp now all for her own, and that I have her slipperagain, all for my own. So now, we three--no, four--at last understandone another, do we not? Jack, will you do two things for me?"

  "All of them but two."

  "When the Baroness von Ritz insists on her intention of leaving us--justat the height of all our happiness--I want you to hand her to hercarriage. In the second place, I may need you again--"

  "Well, what would any one think of that!" said Jack Dandridge.

  I never knew when these two left us in the crowd. I never said good-byto Helena von Ritz. I did not catch that last look of her eye. Iremember her as she stood there that night, grave, sweet and sad.

  I turned to Elisabeth. There in the crash of the reeds and brasses, therise and fall of the sweet and bitter conversation all around us, wasthe comedy and the tragedy of life.

  "Elisabeth," I said to her, "are you not ashamed?"

  She looked me full in the eye. "No!" she said, and
smiled.

  I have never seen a smile like Elisabeth's.

  THE END