The good Marsan goes from the room; for she has a deal of sympathy and good sense. Commodore Paul Jones, when now the two are alone, draws Aimee to him, and dries those tears in ways that lovers know. For the first time he folds her in his arms and kisses her lips.
“Perhaps it is also the last time,” she thinks sadly.
And the gallant lover, as though he reads her thoughts, kisses her again, and vows by sword and ship to love her always.
Commodore Paul Jones finds the Duchess de Chartres in spirits. She and the Duke give him a suite of apartments that has heretofore been sacred to Bourbon occupation alone. At this the sensation that rocks the Court is profound.
It even reaches the rabbit-faced king—weak rather than dull—at Versailles, and gives him a shock. He draws down the uncertain corners of his undecided mouth, says naught, and goes out under the trees to feed his squirrels. He would be wiser were he to go out into the starved highways and byways of his oppressed realm, and feed his subjects. Did he do so, he might even yet avoid that revolution, which is slowly yet terribly preparing itself in the ante-chamber of Time.
CHAPTER XXII—THE FÊTE OF THE DUCHESS DE CHARTRES
The Duke and Duchess de Chartres give a grand banquet in honor of Commodore Paul Jones. The Duchess asks Doctor Franklin, whom she esteems, and calls “Monsieur le Sage” for his wisdom. Also, to please the worthy doctor, she has Madame de Houdetot, and the rest of his Passy friends, including the vivacious Madame Helvetius.
“Only,” says the Duchess, who has weaknesses that favor washtubs—“only I trust that our ‘Rich Widow of Passy’ will wear a fresh frock, if only to give us something to, talk about.”