I had kept my end up with them and they knew it. They had lately
let my sleeping-car alone in the old barn. Their shouts rang in
my ears, nevertheless, when I reached New York and found that the
volunteers were gone, and that I was once more too late. I fell back
on the French Consul then, but was treated very cavalierly there.
I suppose I became a nuisance, for when I called the twelfth or
twentieth time at the office in Bowling Green, he waxed wroth with
sudden vehemence and tried to put me out.
Then ensued the only fight of the war in which I was destined to
have a part, and that on the wrong side. My gorge rose at these
continual insults. I grabbed the French Consul by the nose, and
in a moment we were rolling down the oval stairs together, clawing
and fighting for all we were worth. I know it was inexcusable,
but consider the provocation; after all I had sacrificed to serve
his people, to be put out the second time like a beggar and a tramp!
I had this one chance of getting even, and that I took it was only
human. The racket we made on the stairs roused the whole house.
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