gone yet to the Secretary of State with—with—his accusations. But the Secretary suspects me. I saw it in his face more plainly this morning than ever before. And there are certain things in connection with my negotiations—Great God! What a country! I communicate with the Department of State on certain diplomatic matters. The Department tells me that the Senate has called for information in the matter, and all my communications are handed over to a Senate Committee. Then the Lower House imagines there is a commercial question involved, and invites its Foreign Affairs Committee to take charge of it. There is no diplomacy in this miserable country," he cried, throwing out his hands. "The State Department is a puppet in the hands of Congress. No diplomatist can understand this when he comes here—or after."
"That is true," responded Madame Volkonsky, with a spice of sarcasm in her that never wholly left her. "None of you Foreign Office people know anything of the workings of the United States Government." This angered Volkonsky. He broke out—
"There is more yet to tell. This wretched canaille they call the Lower House, this Foreign Affairs Committee—is subdivided into numerous smaller committees—and the one in charge of our negotiation is virtually Pembroke—Pembroke himself!"
Madame Volkonsky fell back in the carriage. She did not wholly understand what this meant, but she knew from Volkonsky's manner, assisted by
