It was now near midnight. We could hear the rattle
of cabs on the cobblestones, the cries of strange voices in Spanish; and
we saw the lights in the harbor, the lights in the Prado, over the city
which was still feasting and playing. Then Douglas confided to me that
he was going to be a candidate for President in this next campaign of
1852.
The prospects were very good, he thought. If he could get two or three
western states to speak out in his favor he would win. He wondered if I
could not go to Iowa for him. He hoped to have the leading politicians
of Illinois as delegates at Baltimore. He wished me to be a delegate,
not that I was a leading politician, but I counted for as much since I
was an old friend and a sympathetic adherent. I told him to use me in
any way that would serve him.
Having all these enterprises on his hands he was leaving for Mobile in
the morning. No time to see a bull fight. "I'll not say good night to
Mrs. Miles," he said. "Let her sleep." He got up to tiptoe away. "Good
night, Senator," called Dorothy. She had aroused at the cessation of our
talk. Douglas returned and in his most gallant manner bade Dorothy good
night. Then he strode away, stepped through the trapdoor, began to
descend, disappeared. I looked up at the great stars. Then lifting
Dorothy into my arms, I carried her to the stairs and on my back to our
room.
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