[ELLINGHAM enters up centre and comes down.]

Are you Southerners all mad, Robert?

ELLINGHAM.  Are you Northerners all blind? [KERCHIVAL sits.] We Virginians would prevent a war if we could.  But your people in the North do not believe that one is coming.  You do not understand the determined frenzy of my fellow-Southerners.  Look! [Pointing.] Do you see the lights of the city, over the water?  The inhabitants of Charleston are gathering, even now, in the gray, morning twilight, to witness the long-promised bombardment of Fort Sumter.  It is to be a gala day for them.  They have talked and dreamed of nothing else for weeks.  The preparations have become a part of their social life—­of their amusement—­their gayeties.  This very night at the ball—­here—­in the house of my own relatives—­what was their talk?  What were the jests they laughed at?  Sumter!  War!  Ladies were betting bonbons that the United States would not dare to fire a shot in return, and pinning ribbons on the breasts of their “heroes.”  There was a signal rocket from one of the forts, and the young men who were dancing here left their partners standing on the floor to return to the batteries—­as if it were the night before another Waterloo.  The ladies themselves hurried away to watch the “spectacle” from their own verandas.  You won’t see the truth!  I tell you, Kerchival, a war between the North and South is inevitable!

KERCHIVAL.  And if it does come, you Virginians will join the rest.

ELLINGHAM.  Our State will be the battle-ground, I fear.  But every loyal son of Virginia will follow her flag.  It is our religion!

KERCHIVAL.  My State is New York.  If New York should go against the old flag, New York might go to the devil.  That is my religion.

ELLINGHAM.  So differently have we been taught what the word “patriotism” means!

KERCHIVAL.  You and I are officers in the same regiment of the United States Regular Army, Robert; we were classmates at West Point, and we have fought side by side on the plains.  You saved my scalp once; I’d have to wear a wig, now, if you hadn’t.  I say, old boy, are we to be enemies?

ELLINGHAM. [Laying his hand over his shoulder.] My dear old comrade, whatever else comes, our friendship shall be unbroken!

KERCHIVAL.  Bob! [Looking up at him.] I only hope that we shall never meet in battle!

ELLINGHAM.  In battle? [Stepping down front.] The idea is horrible!

KERCHIVAL. [Rising and crossing to him.] My dear old comrade, one of us will be wrong in this great fight, but we shall both be honest in it. [Gives hand, ELLINGHAM grasps it warmly, then turns away.

ELLINGHAM.  Colonel Haverill is watching the forts, also; he has been as sad to-night as we have.  Next to leaving you, my greatest regret is that I must resign from his regiment.

KERCHIVAL.  You are his favourite officer.