“She dare not!  She never will.  She will enjoy in secret her revenge on perfidious Albion, which is to say, perfidious Pakenham.  Her nature is absolutely different from that of the Baroness von Ritz.  The Dona Lucrezia dreams of the torch of love, not the torch of principle!”

“The public might not approve, Mr. Calhoun; but at least there were advantages in this sort of aids!”

“We are obliged to find such help as we can.  The public is not always able to tell which was plot and which counterplot in the accomplishment of some intricate things.  The result excuses all.  It was written that Texas should come to this country.  Now for Oregon!  It grows, this idea of democracy!”

“At least, sir, you will have done your part.  Only now—­”

“Only what, then?”

“We are certain to encounter opposition.  The Senate may not ratify this Texas treaty.”

“The Senate will not ratify,” said he.  “I am perfectly well advised of how the vote will be when this treaty comes before it for ratification.  We will be beaten, two to one!”

“Then, does that not end it?”

“End it?  No!  There are always other ways.  If the people of this country wish Texas to belong to our flag, she will so belong.  It is as good as done to-day.  Never look at the obstacles; look at the goal!  It was this intrigue of Van Zandt’s which stood in our way.  By playing one intrigue against another, we have won thus far.  We must go on winning!”

He paced up and down the room, one hand smiting the other.  “Let England whistle now!” he exclaimed exultantly.  “We shall annex Texas, in full view, indeed, of all possible consequences.  There can be no consequences, for England has no excuse left for war over Texas.  I only wish the situation were as clear for Oregon.”

“There’ll be bad news for our friend Senor Yturrio when he gets back to his own legation!” I ventured.

“Let him then face that day when Mexico shall see fit to look to us for aid and counsel.  We will build a mighty country here, on this continent!”

“Mr. Pakenham is accredited to have certain influence in our Senate.”

“Yes.  We have his influence exactly weighed.  Yet I rejoice in at least one thing—­one of his best allies is not here.”

“You mean Senor Yturrio?”

“I mean the Baroness von Ritz.  And now comes on that next nominating convention, at Baltimore.”

“What will it do?” I hesitated.

“God knows.  For me, I have no party.  I am alone!  I have but few friends in all the world”—­he smiled now—­“you, my boy, as I said, and Doctor Ward and a few women, all of whom hate each other.”

I remained silent at this shot, which came home to me; but he smiled, still grimly, shaking his head.  “Rustle of silk, my boy, rustle of silk—­it is over all our maps.  But we shall make these maps!  Time shall bear me witness.”