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 Constitution 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--"
"An oath to support the Constitution 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 Constitution!"
"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 assembly. 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.
The breathless galleries leaned forward to catch the slightest sound from the arena below.
One by one the Senators from the seceding Southern States rose and renounced their allegiance to the United States in obedience to the voice of their people.
With each solemn exit the women of the galleries grew hysterical, waved their perfumed handkerchiefs and shouted their approval with cries of sympathy and admiration.
David Yulee, Stephen K. Mallory and Benjamin Fitzpatrick had each closed his portfolio and with slow measured tread marched down the crowded aisle and out of the Chamber never again to enter its doors.
All eyes were focused now on the brilliant young Senator from Alabama, Clement C. Clay, Jr. It was understood that he had prepared an eloquent defense of his action and would voice the passionate feeling of the masses of the Southern people in this his last utterance in the crumbling temple of the old Republic.
He rose in his place, lifted his strong head with its leonine locks and broad, high forehead, paused a moment and began his speech in the clear steady tones of the trained orator, master of himself, his theme and his audience. The Northern Senators met his gaze with scorn and he answered with a look of bold defiance.