Read Online In The Face Of Death by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
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Had he not warned me of these starts of his, I would be more troubled by him than I am, and I am troubled enough. . . .
My work on my manuscript has gone well, which is very satisfying. I have completed my chapters on the Osage and the Kiowa, and I am well into my chapter on the Pawnee. I have been reviewing my notes on the Cheyenne and the Ute in order to organize the material more suitably. If this progress continues, I will be able to send the entire manuscript to Amsterdam before the end of October, which will please me very much.
I will have to extend my rental here until November at least, so that I may complete my work. . . .
“Pray do not take his manner to heart, Madame,” said Baron deStoeckl to Madelaine as they danced at the summer ball given by Captain and Missus Elihu Hazellet; he avoided using Sherman’s name in case they were overheard. “He will soon be as filled with enthusiasm as he is now consumed with desolation.” He missed a step and began to apologize.
“It’s not necessary, Baron,” said Madelaine, “neither this nor your intercession for your friend.”
“You are more understanding than many another woman would be,” said the Baron gallantly.
The musicians, crowded into an alcove, were doing their best to follow the erratic beat of Captain Hazellet, who had seized the baton from their leader and was enjoying himself hugely.
“Come, Baron, it is not as if he were courting me, for that is impossible. I would be more foolish than is permissible if I were to demand all the attentions and courtesies that fashion demands.” She noticed Fanny Kent in the arms of General Hitchcock and nodded politely.
“I hope my friend comes to his senses and rejoices in his good fortune,” Baron deStoeckl told Madelaine as they swept down the room. “Permit me to tell you, Madame, that I am much impressed with your wisdom.”
“Wisdom?” scoffed Madelaine, though she flushed with the compliment. “What would be the use of making demands of him? It would serve only to embarrass us both and I am convinced would not engage his affections in the least.”
The musicians came to the end of the waltz; Captain Hazellet reluctantly surrendered the baton to their leader once again.
“Permit me to bring you a glass of wine,” said Baron deStoeckl as he led Madelaine off the floor.
“Thank you, Baron, but I do not drink wine,” said Madelaine; she could feel Sherman watching her from across the room and it was difficult to resist the urge to return his stare.
“Then tell me what I may bring you,” said the Baron, his gallantry unfazed by her courteous refusal.
“Nothing, thank you,” said Madelaine, releasing his arm as they reached the chairs around the ballroom.
“Poor Captain Hazellet,” said deStoeckl smoothly, covering the awkwardness he sensed in Madelaine. “He is hoping that the government will give him the license to import more Chinese to work on the railroads. He is making a grand show in the hope that it will convince his relatives in the Capitol to provide the license.”
Madelaine took her seat “But how are parties and balls going to convince men on the other side of the continent—”
“Rumors, Madame,” said the Baron quietly. “He hopes that he will cause the high society of San Francisco to endorse him to those in power.” He shook his head at the folly of it. “He has spent a great deal of money entertaining the army officers posted here. I understand he has great hopes that Henry Halleck will support his efforts with useful introductions.”
“How absurd,” said Madelaine, and looked up sharply as a man in uniform stumbled into the ballroom.
Conversation faded and all the guests stared at the unexpected arrival. A number of the ladies drew back.
The young soldier turned deep red, aware that he had committed a serious social lapse. He removed his cap and bowed gracelessly. “Sorry to intrude. But there’s trouble. A riot. General Hitchcock, we need
My work on my manuscript has gone well, which is very satisfying. I have completed my chapters on the Osage and the Kiowa, and I am well into my chapter on the Pawnee. I have been reviewing my notes on the Cheyenne and the Ute in order to organize the material more suitably. If this progress continues, I will be able to send the entire manuscript to Amsterdam before the end of October, which will please me very much.
I will have to extend my rental here until November at least, so that I may complete my work. . . .
“Pray do not take his manner to heart, Madame,” said Baron deStoeckl to Madelaine as they danced at the summer ball given by Captain and Missus Elihu Hazellet; he avoided using Sherman’s name in case they were overheard. “He will soon be as filled with enthusiasm as he is now consumed with desolation.” He missed a step and began to apologize.
“It’s not necessary, Baron,” said Madelaine, “neither this nor your intercession for your friend.”
“You are more understanding than many another woman would be,” said the Baron gallantly.
The musicians, crowded into an alcove, were doing their best to follow the erratic beat of Captain Hazellet, who had seized the baton from their leader and was enjoying himself hugely.
“Come, Baron, it is not as if he were courting me, for that is impossible. I would be more foolish than is permissible if I were to demand all the attentions and courtesies that fashion demands.” She noticed Fanny Kent in the arms of General Hitchcock and nodded politely.
“I hope my friend comes to his senses and rejoices in his good fortune,” Baron deStoeckl told Madelaine as they swept down the room. “Permit me to tell you, Madame, that I am much impressed with your wisdom.”
“Wisdom?” scoffed Madelaine, though she flushed with the compliment. “What would be the use of making demands of him? It would serve only to embarrass us both and I am convinced would not engage his affections in the least.”
The musicians came to the end of the waltz; Captain Hazellet reluctantly surrendered the baton to their leader once again.
“Permit me to bring you a glass of wine,” said Baron deStoeckl as he led Madelaine off the floor.
“Thank you, Baron, but I do not drink wine,” said Madelaine; she could feel Sherman watching her from across the room and it was difficult to resist the urge to return his stare.
“Then tell me what I may bring you,” said the Baron, his gallantry unfazed by her courteous refusal.
“Nothing, thank you,” said Madelaine, releasing his arm as they reached the chairs around the ballroom.
“Poor Captain Hazellet,” said deStoeckl smoothly, covering the awkwardness he sensed in Madelaine. “He is hoping that the government will give him the license to import more Chinese to work on the railroads. He is making a grand show in the hope that it will convince his relatives in the Capitol to provide the license.”
Madelaine took her seat “But how are parties and balls going to convince men on the other side of the continent—”
“Rumors, Madame,” said the Baron quietly. “He hopes that he will cause the high society of San Francisco to endorse him to those in power.” He shook his head at the folly of it. “He has spent a great deal of money entertaining the army officers posted here. I understand he has great hopes that Henry Halleck will support his efforts with useful introductions.”
“How absurd,” said Madelaine, and looked up sharply as a man in uniform stumbled into the ballroom.
Conversation faded and all the guests stared at the unexpected arrival. A number of the ladies drew back.
The young soldier turned deep red, aware that he had committed a serious social lapse. He removed his cap and bowed gracelessly. “Sorry to intrude. But there’s trouble. A riot. General Hitchcock, we need
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