I was ever a blundering idiot, and knew not when to leave well enough alone; neither had I ever the heart to see fellow-man discomfited (especially if he were on my side of the question) without going at once to his aid. So, forgetting that it was the powerful minister of a great nation, who needed no help from a man entirely unknown in the great world and of extreme youth, I plunged boldly in.
"I agree with you, sir, most heartily," I said. "In force and polish and weight of argument it was beyond compare. But I expected nothing less from Gouverneur Morris."
There was a dead silence around the table; even the British minister had not the temerity to do more than bow his thanks in the face of Jefferson's icy smile. I caught a glimpse of the marquis's profile; he was frowning heavily. The French minister's face was a blank, and so was Mr. Monroe's. Pelagie looked the picture of distress, and Mr. Lewis made me a slight gesture which I took to mean, "Keep still." Even Mistress Erskine looked embarrassed, and I could understand none of it. But as I caught Mistress Madison's eye there was a twinkle of humor in it, and she gave the slightest, very slightest nod in the world toward the President.
Then at once it flashed upon me: Gouverneur Morris was bosom friend to Mr. Hamilton, and this was no place to be lauding him to the skies. Then was I seized with a rage against the restraints of society, that would not permit me to fling defiance in the face of all these grandees,—aye, and of the President himself—and declare my allegiance to Hamilton and his friends. And mingled with my rage was an intolerable sense of mortification that I had made such an arrant fool of myself before all these older men and lovely women. But, with a tact for which I can never be sufficiently grateful to her, Mistress Madison turned at once to Pelagie.
"Comtesse," she said, "you are fresh from the colony of Louisiana, in which we are all so deeply interested; tell us something about your life in St. Louis, and how you found your Spanish rulers."
And mademoiselle, understanding, responded at once with glowing descriptions of her happy life there, and the courtesy and polish of the people, with many gay little touches of rude and funny experience. Everybody thawed at once; for most of those present had been much in Paris and could understand her French as easily as I. The President became as genial as he had been icy, and he insisted on drawing me also into the conversation (I think for the purpose of giving me an opportunity of retrieving myself), in which I hope I bore my part modestly; for I like not to seem either presumptuous or vainglorious, though, because I am a blunderer, I no doubt seem sometimes to be both.
The curtains had been drawn and the candles lighted when we sat down to dinner, though the sun was still shining; but the short winter afternoon had rapidly passed into evening, and then into dark night, and we still lingered at the table. Talk had grown more and more animated as the wine flowed more freely, and toasts were drunk and bright speeches made in response. I had, as in duty bound, devoted most of my attention to the marchioness, and the marquis had engrossed Pelagie. Yet there had been chance for an occasional word with her. It was when the marquis was rising to respond to a toast to his Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, amid the ringing of glasses, that I turned to mademoiselle.
"Would it be permitted an old friend to call at the house of the French minister on the Comtesse de Baloit?"
"It would be unpardonable if he neglected to do so," she responded, with a bright smile.
"Then to-morrow at two I hope to find you at home," I said, and then added quickly—"unless you are going to the Senate again?"