Under Mrs. Polk’s social administration, we did not waltz, but our ball began with a stately march, really a grand procession, in its way distinctly interesting, in scarlet and gold and blue and silks, and all the flowered circumstance of brocades and laces of our ladies.  And after our march we had our own polite Virginia reel, merry as any dance, yet stately too.

I was late in arriving that night, for it must be remembered that this was but my second day in town, and I had had small chance to take my chief’s advice, and to make myself presentable for an occasion such as this.  I was fresh from my tailor, and very new-made when I entered the room.  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 beautiful as she has many enemies among her sex.  There were dark glances for her that night, I do not deny, before Mr. Calhoun changed them.  For, however John Calhoun was rated by his enemies, the worst of these knew well his austerely spotless private life, and his scrupulous concern for decorum.

Beautiful she surely was.  Her ball gown was of light golden stuff, and there was a coral wreath upon her hair, and her dancing slippers were of coral 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 of her gown.  She was radiant, beautiful, apparently happy.  She came mysteriously enough; but I knew that Mr. Calhoun’s carriage had been sent 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 Samuel Ward, his square and stocky figure not undignified in his dancing dress, the stiff gray mane of his hair waggling after its custom as he spoke emphatically over something with her.  A gruff man, Doctor Ward, but under his gray mane there was a clear brain, and in his broad breast there beat a large and kindly heart.

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

He was very pale that night; and I knew well enough what effort it cost him to attend any of these functions.  Yet he bowed with the grace of a younger man and offered the baroness an arm.  Then, methinks, all Washington gasped a bit.  Not all Washington knew what had gone forward between these two.  Not all Washington knew what that couple meant as they marched in the grand procession that night—­what they meant for America.  Of all those who saw, I alone understood.

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