II
On the 6th of October I found on my table a letter of introduction andthe card of Captain Arthur Merton, U.S.A. (2d Infantry), 12 Rue du Roide Rome.
The note was simple but positive. My uncle, Harry Wellwood, a cynical,pessimistic old bachelor and a rank Copperhead, wrote me to make thecaptain welcome, which meant much to those who knew my uncle. On thatday the evening mail was large. Alphonse laid the letters on my table,and as he lingered I said, "Well, what is it?"
"Monsieur may not observe that three letters from America have beenopened in the post-office."
I said, "Yes." In fact, it was common and of course annoying. One ofthese letters was from my uncle. He wrote:
I gave Arthur Merton an open letter to you, but I add this to state that he is one of the few decent gentlemen in the army of the North.
He inherited his father's share in the mine of which I am part owner, and has therefore no need to serve an evil cause. He was born in New Orleans of Northern parents, spent two years in the School of Mines in Paris, and until this wretched war broke out has lived for some years among mining camps and in the ruffian life of the far West. It is a fair chance which side turns up, the ways of the salon, the accuracy of the man of science, or the savagery of the Rockies. You will like him.
He has been twice wounded, and then had the good sense to acquire the mild typhoid fever which gave him an excuse to ask for leave of absence. He has no diplomatic or political errand, and goes abroad merely to recruit his health. Things here are not yet quite as bad as I could desire to see them. Antietam was unfortunate, but in the end the European States will recognize the South and end the war. I shall then reside in Richmond.
Yours truly,
_Harry Wellwood._
I hoped that the imperial government profited by my uncle's letter. Itwas or may have been of use, as things turned out, in freeing CaptainMerton from police observation, which at this time rarely failed tokeep under notice every American.
I was kept busy at the legation two thirds of the following day. Atfive I set out in a coupe having Alphonse on the seat with thecoachman. He left cards for me at a half-dozen houses, and then I toldhim to order the driver to leave me at Rue du Roi de Rome, No.12.--Captain Merton's address.
As I sat in the carriage and looked out at the exterior gaiety of theopen-air life of Paris, my mind naturally turned in contrast to thewar at home and the terrible death harvest of Antietam, news of whichhad lately reached Europe. The sense of isolation in a land of hostileopinion often oppressed me, and rarely was as despotic as on thisafternoon. I turned for relief to speculative thought of thenumberless dramas of the lives of the busy multitude among which Idrove. I wondered how many lived simple and uneventful days, likemine, in the pursuit of mere official or domestic duties. Not theutmost imaginative ingenuity of the novelist could have anticipated,as I rode along amidst the hurries and the leisures of a Parisianafternoon, that my next hour or two was about to bring into themonotony of office life an adventure as strange as any which I couldhave conceived as possible for any human unit of these numberless menand women.
Captain Merton lived so far away from the quarter in which I had beenleaving cards that it was close to dusk when I got out of thecarriage at the hotel I sought.
I meant to return on foot, but hearing thunder, and rain beginning tofall heavily, I told Alphonse to keep the carriage. The captain wasnot at home. I had taken his card from my pocket to assure me inregard to the address, and as I hurried to reenter my coupe I put itin my card-case for future reference.
A Diplomatic Adventure Page 2