"He's looking forward to the possible new Empire of the South," Holt whispered, "and proposes at an early day to forestall the French--"
Dick threw him a look of scorn as he returned to the door and rose with a scowl.
"I can't breathe in here. Two's company and three's a crowd."
In spite of her protest he bounded up the steps of the gallery, turned sharply to the right, avoided the intruders and disappeared in the crowd.
"Miss Barton, permit me to introduce to you Signor Henrico Socola, Secretary to His Excellency, the Minister of Sardinia."
The slender figure bent low with an easy grace.
"Pleased to meet you, Signor Socola," Jennie responded, lifting the heavy lashes from her lustrous brown eyes with the slightest challenge to his.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mad'moiselle," he gravely replied.
"You'll excuse me now if I hurry on?" the Secretary said, again bowing and disappearing in the crowd.
"Mr. Holt tells me, Miss Barton, that you know every Senator on the floor."
"Yes. My father has been in Congress and the Senate for twenty years."
"You'll explain the drama to me to-day when the curtain rises?"
"I'll be so much obliged--" he paused and the even white teeth smiled pleasantly. "I'm pretty well up on American history but confess a little puzzled to-day. Your Southern Senators are really going to surrender their power here without a struggle?"
"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?"
"With the certainty of an uprising of your slaves at home?"
"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!"