“It is a proud day,” Miss Bettie Duvall said.

“It certainly is,” Mary Todd Lincoln said, her voice now more Southern-Todd than Yankee-Lincoln. “Have you been keeping well?”

The softness of her words belied the sharpness of their content. After first being put under house arrest in Washington for the outspokenness of her Confederate views, Miss Duvall had finally been sent south along with the widow Greenhow, who now stood beside her. This was after it was discovered that not only were they outspoken sympathizers — but that they had been active as well as spies for the South. Imprisoning women of their class and advanced years had been out of the question. Sending them back to the impoverished wartime South had been punishment enough.

“Most well. Our boys have done it — haven’t they?”

“Most certainly they have. Soldiers of the North and South fighting side by side to hurl back a foreign invader. It is a wonderful day.”

They all smiled and, at least for the moment, the past was put behind them. This was a night of victory and not of malice.

The room was soon crowded and hot and Mary’s head was beginning to hurt. She whispered to her husband and slipped away. He shook the proffered hands diligently, but scarcely looked at the visitors.

“A day of victory for American arms,” the officer said. Lincoln glanced down at the short, uniformed man standing before him, shook hands once, then let go.

“I sincerely hope that you have recovered from your fever, General McClellan.”

“In every way,” Little Napoleon said firmly. “And prepared once again to serve my country in the field of battle.” No hint in his voice of his procrastination in avoiding battle, or his losses when battle was finally and hesitantly joined.

“Indeed I am sure you are. But I relinquished the title of Commander-in-Chief that I assumed with your illness. That title is now held by one far more efficient than I in military prowess.” With perhaps a suggestion in his voice that General Sherman was far more efficient than McClellan as well. “You must address yourself to our most victorious commander when he returns from the battlefront.”

Everyone wanted to talk to the President this night, even former Navy Lieutenant Gustavus Fox who, intelligence services put aside for the moment, was in naval uniform to honor the occasion. He signed to Lincoln as he took the arm of a short man in dark garb, who carried an ebony cane as well as an air of calculated indifference.

“Mr. President. May I present you to the new French ambassador, the Due de Valenciennes.”

The duke bent very slightly from the waist in condescending acknowledgment. Lincoln shook his soft hand like a pump handle before the Frenchman could extricate it.

Fox smiled and said, “The Duke was explaining to me just why his country has landed another thirty thousand troops at the Mexican port of Vera Cruz just a short while ago.”

Valenciennes dismissed this minutia with a flick of his hand. “A matter of business only. The Mexican government has not been honoring its commitments nor repaying certain loans to the French.”

“You go about your bill collecting in a most impressive way,” Lincoln said.

“It was on the fourteenth of December last year that French troops landed in Vera Cruz, was it not?” Fox asked.

This was also dismissed with a trifling wave. “Business, just business. We were aided by the Spanish who were calling in the same loan. As well as, I believe, some seven hundred British troops. Also there to collect a loan.”

Lincoln nodded. “I do remember a bit about that. But the British were causing a lot of trouble about one of their ships, the Trent, at the time so I let my attention waver. But you have all of my attention now. I do believe that Mexico has a new constitution that is based on the American one — is that right, Mr. Fox?”

“Indeed it is. Done in 1857.”

“Which I guess makes her a sister republic. Thirty thousand troops is an awful lot of bill collectors calling on our sister. I think that the Monroe Doctrine covers matters of this kind. Mr. Fox, could I have a complete report about this?”

“Of course.”

“My congratulations upon your military victories,” Valenciennes said, suddenly eager to change the subject. “Might I meet with your Mrs. Lincoln to add to those congratulations?”

“I think she has retired, but I will be sure and tell her what you said.”

Fox led him away and Lincoln smiled. While his attention was distracted by the war with the British, there had been trouble coming in through the back door of the United States. Well, he was looking the right way now.

It was well past midnight by this time and the excitement showed no sign of abating. Lincoln worked his way through the crowds of well-wishers and climbed the stairs, heard the clacking of the telegraph from the office beside his own. Nicolay was there sorting through a thick wad of papers.

“Mostly congratulations, sir,” he said. “As well as suggestions of what we should do to the defeated enemy, some of them very instructive. And the usual entreaties for appointments.”

Lincoln settled into his armchair with a sigh. “What of the prisoners? How many thousands do we have?”

“Not tallied yet — but there are sure to be even more after the fall of Quebec. The Irish prisoners have welcomed our farming program and will stay in this country. They feel that they would be far better off working the land here rather than back in their impoverished country. Though some are too young for heavy work I am sure that they will all fit in. There are Irish boy soldiers of only eight and ten. Volunteered for the British Army they say. That or starve. There is still no decision on the English prisoners.”

“What do you mean?”

“The offer of farm work and the possibility of homesteading was meant only for the Irish. But there are now English volunteers who prefer staying on in this country to returning home.”

“Let’s have them, I say. One’s good as another. But I am to bed, Nico. It has been quite a day.”

“It certainly has.”

But not quite over yet. Gideon Welles was waiting in the president’s office, stroking his great fluffy beard as he looked out of the window. He turned when Lincoln came in. “A day that will live forever in history.” Being a former journalist, he sometimes spoke in newspaper headlines.

“It certainly will. It has been a long time since the British have been so thoroughly beaten.”

“It is the first time, I do believe. England was last invaded in 1066. Since then she has not been invaded and has fought a good number of wars. She gobbled up Wales, Cornwall, Scotland and Ireland and became Great Britain. Not satisfied with that she has plundered her way right around the world and in doing so has founded the British Empire. I fear for our navy, Mr. President.”

“As Secretary you should. But is there anything in particular that troubles you?”

“Peacetime bothers me. We have just laid the keels of eight more iron ships. Will there be the money available to build them?”

“There must be. We will tread softly in this world — but we will not go unarmed. A strong navy and a strong army will assure our safety.”

“People will complain about taxes and Congress will listen to them.”

“Congress will listen to me as well. No one in the Cabinet is in any doubt about our economic needs for the future, that Mr. Mill has pointed out.”

“There are distant rumbles of discontent.”

“As long as they stay that way, why fine. But none shall stay the course of the mighty battleship America as she sails into her successful future. Those that man her must speak with one voice, seek one goal.”

“They must sail with a fair breeze — or jump overboard.”

“Precisely. There have been Cabinet changes in the past — ” Lincoln turned to address his Secretary of War, who was just now entering the office, “you will not forget your predecessor Simon Cameron.”