Yes! she was going to the President’s levee that evening, Rosa said.  A sort of raree-show—­was it not? with the Chief Magistrate for head mountebank.  He was worse off in one respect than the poorest cottager in the nation he was commonly reported to govern, inasmuch as he had not the right to invite whom he pleased to his house, and when the mob overran his premises he must treat all with equal affability.  She pitied his wife!  She would rather, if the choice were offered her, be one of the revolving wax dummies used in shop-windows for showing the latest style of evening costume and hair-dressing—­for the dolls had no wits of their own to begin with, and were not expected to say clever things, as the President’s consort was, after she had lost hers in the crush of the aforesaid mob, who eyed her freely as an appendage to their chattel, the man they had bought by their votes, and put in the highest seat in the Republic.  No! she was not provided with an escort to the White House.  She did not know three people in Washington beside her relatives, and, looking forward to creeping into the palatial East Room at her uncle’s back, or in the shadow of her cousin’s husband, the vision of enjoyment had not been exactly enrapturing—­but, her companion’s proposal to join their party and help elbow the crowd away from her, lent a different coloring to the horizon.

But—­again—­flushing prettily—­was he certain that the expedition would not bore him?  Doubtless he had had some other engagement in prospect for the evening, before he stumbled over her.  He ought to know her well enough not to disguise his real wishes by gallant phrases.

“I have never been otherwise than sincere with you,” Frederic said, honestly; “I had thought of going to the levee alone, as a possible method of whiling away an idle evening.  If you will allow me to accompany you thither, I shall be gratified—­shall derive actual pleasure from the motley scene.  It will not be the only time you and I have studied varieties of physiognomy and character in a mixed assembly.  Do you recollect the hops at the Rockbridge Alum Springs?”

“I do,” replied Rosa, laconically and very soberly.

He thought she suppressed a sigh in saying it.  She was a warm-hearted little creature with all her vagaries, and he was less inclined to reject her unobtrusive sympathy than if a more sedate or prudent person had proffered it.

It was certain he could not have selected a more entertaining associate for that evening.  She amused him in spite of the painful recollections revived by their intercourse.  She did not pass unobserved in the dense crowd that packed the lower floor of the White House.  Her face, all glee and sparkle, the varied music of her soft Southern tongue, her becoming attire—­were, in turn, the subject of eulogistic comment among the most distinguished connoisseurs present.  It was not probable that these should all be unheard by her cavalier, or that he should listen to them with profound indifference.