Calvert of Strathore

by Abbe Carter Goodloe

Beaufort went up to her. "He is here—wounded, I think," he said in a low voice. "I will go and see—you will not be afraid to wait?"

"To wait!—I am going, too," and before he could prevent it she had stepped from the coach and was making her way toward the allée. A ghastly sight met their eyes as they entered the lane. St. Aulaire lay upon the ground, one of his companions standing over him, and at a little distance, Calvert, white and unconscious, the blood trickling from his left shoulder. With a low cry Adrienne knelt on the ground beside him and felt his pulse to see if he still lived. In an instant she was up.

"Bring him to the carriage. We must take him to the Legation—to Mr. Morris," she says, in a low tone, to Beaufort and Bertrand, whom she had recognized as the servant Calvert had brought with him to Azay-le-Roi. Without a look at St. Aulaire she helped the two to get Calvert to the coach, where he was placed on the cushions as easily as possible and held between herself and Madame d'Azay. She hung over him during the long drive in a sort of passion of pity and love. It was the dearest happiness she had ever known to touch him, to feel his head upon her arm. Even though he were dead, she thought, it were worth all her life to have held him so. She scarcely spoke save to ask Bertrand if he knew the cause of the encounter, and, when he had told her all he knew of the events of the evening, she relapsed again into silence. They reached the Legation as Mr. Morris's guests were leaving, and in a very few minutes the young man was put to bed and a surgeon called.

Though the wound was not fatal—not even very serious—a sharp fever fastened upon Calvert, and, in the delirium of the few days following, Mr. Morris was easily able to learn the cause of the duel. The story he thus gathered from Calvert's wild talk he told Adrienne and Madame d'Azay—the two ladies came daily to inquire how the patient was doing—for he thought that they should know of the noble action of the young man, and he felt sure that as soon as Calvert was himself again he would request him to keep silence about his share in the matter. He was right, for when Calvert was come to his senses again and was beginning to be convalescent—which was at the end of a week—he told Mr. Morris the particulars of his encounter with St. Aulaire, requesting that he make no mention of his part in the affair and begging him to urge d'Azay to leave Paris. This was the more necessary as St. Aulaire, though badly wounded, was fully conscious and might at any moment cause d'Azay's arrest, and, moreover, passports were becoming daily harder to obtain.

Mr. Morris had to confess his inability to comply with Calvert's first request, but promised to see d'Azay immediately, and, ordering his carriage, in half an hour was on his way to the rue St. Honoré. No man in Paris knew better than he the risk an aristocrat ran who was denounced to the Assembly and remained in Paris, nor how difficult it was to get out of the city. He was also aware of rumors concerning d'Azay of which he thought best not to tell Calvert in his present condition, but which made him seriously fear for d'Azay's safety.

On his arrival in the rue St. Honoré he found Adrienne with the old Duchess in one of the smaller salons, but d'Azay was not with them, nor did they know where he was. Mr. Morris had not intended telling the two ladies of his mission, fearing to increase the anxiety which he knew they already felt on d'Azay's account, but he suddenly changed his determination and, in a few words, informed them of Calvert's urgent message to d'Azay and of the reasons for his instant departure from Paris.

"He is not safe for a day," he said. "Calvert has saved him for the time being, but St. Aulaire, though unable himself to go to the Assembly and prefer charges against him, can find a dozen tools among the Orléans party who will do his dirty work for him. The mere assertion that d'Azay is in correspondence with Monsieur de Condé or any of the counter-revolutionists will send him to prison—or worse. As you know, he, like Lafayette, is out of favor with all factions. There is but one thing to do—get him out of Paris."

"He will never go!" said the old Duchess, proudly.

"He must! Listen," said Adrienne, rising and laying her hand on Mr. Morris's arm. "I think he will never ask for a passport himself, but if we could get it for him, if, when he comes in, he should find all in readiness for his going, if we could convince him by these means that his immediate departure was so necessary—" She stood looking at Mr. Morris, forcing herself to be calm, and with such an expression of courage and determination on her pale face that Mr. Morris, who had always admired her, was touched and astonished.

"'Tis the very best thing to be done, my dear young lady," he said. "We must get the passport for d'Azay and force him to quit Paris. I think I am not entirely without influence with some of these scoundrels in authority just now. Danton, for instance. He is, without doubt, the most powerful man in Paris for the moment. Suppose we apply to him and his worthy assistant, Bertrand, and see what can be done. As Danton himself said to me the other evening at the Cordelliers Club, 'in times of revolution authority falls into the hands of rascals!' Bertrand was a good valet, but he knows no more of statescraft than my coachman does. However, what we want is not a statesman but a friend, and I think Bertrand may prove to be that. My carriage is waiting below; shall we go at once?"