"I thank you, Mr. Morris," said Calvert, shaking his head, "but—but 'tis impossible for me to leave France."
"Ah, 'tis as I thought," said Mr. Morris, slowly, "and Madame de St. André is a most charming and beautiful woman. Forgive me for having guessed your secret, boy. 'Tis my interest in you which makes me seem impertinent. Have you told her that you love her?"
"'Tis a poor game to tell all one knows," says Calvert, again shaking his head and smiling a little bitterly. "Besides, it would be but folly in this case."
"Folly!" exclaimed Mr. Morris. "Don't be above committing follies, Ned! Old age will be but a dreary thing if we have not the follies of youth to look back upon. Happiness and folly go hand in hand sometimes. Don't miss one in avoiding the other, boy! Besides, why do you call your love for her folly? By the Lord Harry," he burst out, "why shouldn't she love you in return? 'Tis true you are not one of the dukes or marquises who follow her about, but I think that no disability, and, were she not a capricious, worldly woman, she would have the wit vastly to prefer a clean, honest American gentleman to these dissolute popinjays, whose titles, riches, and very life are being menaced. Were I a woman, Ned," and he gave the young man a kindly look, "I think I could find it in my heart to admire and respect you above most men."
"'Tis far more than I can hope for in Madame de St. André, and it has been madness for me to think of her for a moment," said Calvert, gloomily.
"Then come away," urged Mr. Morris. "Come with me to London." But
Calvert was not to be persuaded.
"You counselled me a while ago not to be afraid of committing follies," he said, looking at the older man. "I think I am capable of all folly—I don't dare hope, but I cannot leave her."
"Ah, you are not as wise as I, my boy," returned Mr. Morris, smiling cynically. "You stay because you care too much and I go for the same reason. Believe me, mine is the better plan. But if you stay, speak! Perhaps, after all, she may have the sense to appreciate you. Though she is worldly and ambitious, there is a leaven of sincerity and purity in her nature, I think. And then, who can guess what is in a woman's heart? 'Tis the greatest of puzzles. Who knows what you may find in Adrienne de St. André's, Ned? She is a high-spirited creature, trained in her world to conceal her feelings, should she be unfashionable enough to have any, and perhaps the indifference with which she treats you is but a mask. There are women like that, boy, who are as great actresses as Raucourt or Contat, and who would die before they betrayed themselves, just as there are women to whom candor is as natural as breathing and who can no more help showing the depth and tenderness of their hearts than the sun can help shining. And now," he said, rising as Mr. Jefferson entered the room, "I must be going or I shall be imprudent enough to make some observations on the extraordinary proceedings of this evening."
"Extraordinary indeed," said Mr. Jefferson, with a troubled air, as he seated himself. "I shall wait upon Montmorin in the morning and explain how it has happened that the American Legation has been the rendezvous for the political leaders of France. But though this affair has deeply embarrassed me, I would not, for a great deal, have missed hearing the coolness and candor of argument, the logical reasoning and chaste eloquence of the discussion this evening. Would that it had all been employed in a better cause! It seems almost pitiful that these men should be battling for a King who, though meaning well toward the nation, is swayed absolutely by a Queen, proud, disdainful of all restraint, concerned only in the present pleasure, a gambler and intrigante. Dr. Franklin and I have seen her in company with d'Artois and Coigny and the Duchesse de Polignac, than whom there is no more infamous woman in France, gambling and looking on at the wild dances and buffoonery of a guinguette, and, though her incognita was respected, think you the people did not know the Queen? 'Tis to preserve the throne of a woman such as that that Lafayette and d'Azay and Barnave bend all their powerful young energies and talents and may, perhaps, give their young lives!"
"There are those who think differently about Louis and Marie Antoinette, and who consider the Queen the better man of the two," replied Mr. Morris, dryly. "But 'tis past my patience, the whole thing, and I can scarce trust myself to think of it. By the way, Ned," he said, suddenly turning to Calvert, "'twas that villain Bertrand, that protégé of yours, who was carrying the head of that poor devil, Foulon, on his pike this afternoon. I recognized the fellow instantly, and I think he knew me, too, though he was near crazed with blood and excitement. He handed the bike to a companion and slunk into the crowd when he saw me. Have a care of him, boy. 'Twas the most awful sight my eyes ever rested on! And now, good-night." At the door he looked back and saw Mr. Jefferson filling his long pipe with fragrant Virginia tobacco and Calvert still sitting beside the table with the troubled look on his thoughtful young face.