"And here let me say," he remarked, pausing from the reading of his minutes of his last conversation with Volkonsky, "that in some of my language and stipulations I had no authority from either the President or Secretary of State—but with the impetuosity of all honest men, I felt a profound indignation at a man of the late Minister's character, daring to present himself as an accredited agent to this Government. In many of these instances, as for example, when I stipulated that the late Minister should not presume to shake hands with the President at his parting interview, or address him in any way, no doubt the late Minister supposed that I was instructed to make that stipulation. Sir, I was not. It was an outburst of feeling. I felt so clearly that no man of Volkonsky's character should be permitted to touch the hand of the President of the United States, that I said so—and said so in such a way that the late Minister supposed I had the President's authority for it."
At this, there was an outburst of applause. The Speaker made no move to check it. Pembroke bowed slightly, and resumed in his calm and piercing voice.
Members of the House and Senate had settled themselves to hear a speech. In five minutes the old stagers had found out that there was the making of a great parliamentary speaker in this stalwart dark young man. Members leaned back and touched each other. Pens refrained from scratching.
