it had been the intention of the court to give but one levee—that to the deputies on the saturday preceding the opening of the states-general, but so widespread and so profound had been the dissatisfaction among the tiers at the treatment they had received on that occasion at the hands of monsieur de brézé, that the king had hastily decided to hold another levee on the evening of the 5th of may, to which all the deputies were again invited and at which much of the formal and displeasing ceremony of the first reception was to be banished. at the first levee his majesty had remained in state in the salle d'hercule, to which the deputies were admitted according to their rank, the noblesse and higher clergy passing in through the great state apartments, the tiers being introduced one after the other by a side entrance. the king now rightly determined to receive all in the great salle des glaces with as little formality as possible. but with that unhappy fatality which seemed to attend his every action, this resolution, which would have been productive of such good results at first, now seemed but a tardy and inefficient apology for courtly hauteur.
so fatigued was madame de tessé and her guests by the day's proceedings, that it was late when they set off from the rue dauphine for the palace. mr. morris had the honor of driving alone with madame de tessé (lafayette and d'azay declining to attend this levee, having paid their respects to the king on saturday), while mr. jefferson, whose coach had remained at versailles, begged the pleasure of madame de st. andré's company for himself and mr. calvert. she came down the marble steps in her laces and gaze d'or, her dark hair unpowdered and unadorned save for a white rose, half-opened, held in the coil by a diamond buckle, and she looked so lovely and so much the grand princess that mr. jefferson could not forbear complimenting her as he handed her into the coach. as for mr. calvert, he stood by in silence, quite dazzled by her beauty. she took mr. jefferson's compliments and calvert's silent admiration complacently and as though they were no more than her just due, and talked gayly and graciously enough with the minister, though she had scarce a word for the younger man, whom she treated in a fashion even more than usually imperious, and to which he submitted with his unvarying composure and good-nature.
in the place d'armes the crush of coaches was so great that the american minister's carriage could move but slowly from that point into the cour royale, and 'twas with much difficulty that mr. jefferson and calvert, finally alighting, forced a passage through the crowd for madame de st. andré. at the foot of the great escalier des ambassadeurs they found madame de tessé and mr. morris, who had just arrived. mounting together, they passed through the state apartments of the king, upon the ceilings and panellings of which mr. calvert noted the ever recurring sun-disk, emblem of the roi soleil whose sun had set so ingloriously long before; through the salle de la guerre, from whose dome that same sun-king, vanquished so easily by death, hurled thunder-bolts of wrath before which spain and holland cowered in fear; until they at length came into the galérie des glaces, where their majesties were to receive.
not even the splendor of the salle des menus could rival for an instant the beauty of the vast hall, brilliantly lighted by great golden lustres set in double row up and down its length, in which mr. calvert now found himself. these lights burned themselves out in endless reflections in the seventeen great mirrors set between columns on one side of the hall. opposite each of these mirrors was a window of equal proportions giving upon the magnificent gardens and terraces. the vaulted ceiling of this great gallery was dedicated, in a series of paintings by lebrun, to the glorification of louis xiv, from the moment when, on the death of mazarin, in 1661, he took up the reins of government ('twas the theme of the great central fresco, le roi gouverne par lui-même, wherein, according to the fashion of the day, the very olympian deities were subject to the princes of france, and mercury announced this kingly resolve to the other powers of europe) to the peace of nymwegen, which closed that unjust and inglorious war with holland. lebrun, being a courtier as well as an artist, had made these military operations under turenne and condé resemble prodigious success, and from the passage of the rhine to the capture of ghent, louis was always the conqueror over the young stadtholder, william of orange.
these and many other details mr. calvert had time to note as he made a tour of the princely apartment in the train of madame de st. andré and madame de tessé. their progress was necessarily slow, as the gallery was thronged with the deputies of the noblesse, the higher clergy, and the invited guests. but the members of the tiers, whose presence had been especially desired by his majesty, were conspicuous by their absence. here and there one saw a commoner in black coat and simple white tie, but he seemed to be separated from the rest of the splendid company by some invisible barrier, constrained, uneasy. indeed, there was over the whole scene that same feeling of constraint, a sense of danger, and an air of apathy, too, that killed all gayety.
"if this is a fair sample, court balls must be but dreary affairs," said mr. morris to calvert, in a low tone, as they moved slowly about. and yet, in spite of this indefinite but sensible pall over everything, the company was both numerous and brilliant. the ladies of the queen's household and many others of the highest nobility were present, dazzling in jewels, powder, feathers, and richest court dresses. as for the gentlemen, they were as resplendent as the women in their satins and glittering orders and silver dress swords. mr. morris alone of all the company was without the dress sword, this concession having been granted him on account of his lameness and through the application of mr. jefferson.
"it is a grim jest to give a man an extra arm when he needs a leg, mr. jefferson. can't you see to it that i am spared being made a monstrosity of?" mr. morris had said, whimsically. "i can hear ségur or beaufort now making some damned joke about the unequal distribution of my members," and mr. jefferson had made a formal request to the master of ceremonies to allow mr. morris to be presented to his majesty without a sword. with that exception, however, he was in full court costume and stumped his way about the galérie des glaces with his accustomed savoir faire, attracting almost as much attention and interest as mr. jefferson. that gentleman, in his gray cloth, with some fine mechlin lace at throat and wrists, and wearing only his order of the cincinnati, overtopped all the other ambassadors in stately bearing, and looked more noble than did most of the marquises and counts and dukes in their brocades and powdered perukes and glittering decorations—or, at least, so thought calvert, who was himself very good to look at in his white broadcloth and flowered satin waistcoat.
the slow progress of the party around the room was not entirely to mr. calvert's liking, for at each step madame de st. andré was forced to stop and speak to some eager courtier who presented himself, and, by the time they were half-way through the tour and opposite the oeil de beef, such a retinue was following the beauty that he found himself quite in the rear and completely separated from her.
"i feel like the remnant of a beleaguered army cut off from the base of supplies," said mr. morris, smiling at the young man. he and mr. jefferson had dropped behind, having given way to younger and more pressing claimants for madame de st. andré's favor. "shall we make a masterly retreat while there is time?"
while he was yet speaking a sudden silence fell upon the company, and monsieur de brézé, throwing open the doors leading into the gallery of mirrors from louis's council chamber, announced the king and queen. their majesties entered immediately, attended at a respectful distance by a small retinue of gentlemen, among whom calvert recognized the duc de broglie, monsieur de la luzerne, and monsieur de montmorin. at this near sight of the king—for he found himself directly opposite the door by which their majesties entered—mr. calvert felt a shock of surprise. surrounded by all the pomp and circumstance of a most imposing ceremonial and seen across the vast salle des menus, louis xvi. had appeared to the young american kingly enough. but this large, awkward, good-natured-looking man who now made his way quietly and with a shambling gait into the brilliant room, crowded with the most splendid courtiers of europe, had no trace of majesty about him, unless it was a certain look of benignity and kindliness that shone in the light-blue eyes. his dress of unexpected simplicity and the unaffected style of his whole deportment were unlocked for by calvert. indeed, but for the splendid decorations he wore and the humility of his courtiers, the young gentleman would have found it hard to believe himself in such exalted company, and thought privately that general washington or mr. jefferson or many another great american whom he had known had a more commanding presence and a more noble countenance than this descendant of kings.
but if louis xvi was awkward and unprepossessing he had the kindest manners in the world, and when mr. jefferson presented mr. calvert to his majesty as "son jeune et bien-aimé secrétaire, qui avait servi dans la guerre de l'indépendence sous le drapeau de la france, commandé par monsieur de lafayette, pour qu'il avait un respect le plus profond et une amitié la plus vive," the young man was quite overcome by the graciousness of his reception and retained for the rest of his life a very lively impression of the king's kind treatment of him. he never had speech with that unhappy, but well-intentioned, ruler but once afterward, and very possibly 'twas as much the memory of the courtesy shown him as the wish to see justice done and royalty in distress succored that made him, on the occasion of his second interview, offer himself so ardently in the dangerous service of the king.
perhaps it was the presence at his side of his beautiful consort that accentuated all of louis's awkwardness. as mr. calvert bowed low before the queen, marie antoinette, he thought to himself that surely there was no other princess in all europe to compare with her, and but one beauty. certain it was that she bore herself with a pride of race, a majesty, a divine grace that were peerless. it must have been some such queen as this who first inspired the artists with the idea of representing the princes of this earth as olympic deities, for assuredly no goddess was ever more beautiful. though care and grief and humiliation had already touched her, though there were fine lines around the proudly curving lips and an anxious shadow in the large eyes, her complexion was still transcendently brilliant, her figure still youthful and marvellously graceful, and there was that in her carriage and glance that attracted all eyes. she was dressed in a silver gauze embroidered in laurier roses so cunningly wrought that they looked as if fresh plucked and scattered over the lacy fabric. her hair, which was worn simply—she had set the fashion for less extravagance in the style of head-dress—was piled up in lightly powdered coils, ornamented only with a feather and a star of brilliants.
"ainsi, monsieur, vous connaissez notre cher de lafayette" (she hated and feared him) "et tout jeune que vous êtes vous avez déjà vu la guerre—la mort, la victorie, et la déroute!" she spoke with a certain sadness, and calvert, bowing low again, and speaking only indifferent french in his agitation, told her that under lafayette it had been "la mort et la victoire," but never defeat.
she glanced around the assemblage. "monsieur de lafayette is not come to-night," she said, coldly, to the young man, and then, with a sudden accession of interest, she went on: "we heard much of that america of yours from him when he returned from your war" ('twas she herself who had obtained his forgiveness from the king and a command for him in the roi dragons). "i think he loves it and your general washington better than he does his own king and country," she said, smiling a little bitterly. "is it, then, so beautiful a country?"
"tis a very beautiful and a very grateful country, your majesty," replied calvert. "america desires nothing so much as to do some service for your majesty in return for all the benefits and assistance france has rendered her."
"we are glad to know that she is grateful. ingratitude is the last of vices," said the queen, quietly, looking at the young man with a sombre light in her beautiful eyes. "but, indeed, we fear france hath given her something she can never repay," and she passed on with the king. together they walked the length of the salon between the ranks of courtiers, after which they mingled freely and without formality with their guests. though it was easy to see that the queen was suffering, so charming and easy were her manners, so brilliant her very presence, that a new animation and gayety was diffused throughout the entire assemblage. mr. morris, whom she had also treated with the utmost graciousness, was enchanted with her.
"i think venus herself was not more beautiful," he said, enthusiastically, to calvert when her majesty had passed on. "'tis no wonder the wits have dubbed the king vulcan. and this is the paragon of beauty and grace whom her ungallant subjects chose to insult this morning! have they no hearts, no senses to be charmed with her loveliness, her majesty, her sorrows? i think you and i, ned, ought to be loyal servants of both the king and queen, for surely royalty could not have been more courteous in its treatment of two untitled and unimportant gentlemen."
"certainly their majesties were most amiable," said mr. jefferson, dryly, "and your reception was as unlike the ungracious notice which king george took of mr. adams and myself in '86 at buckingham palace as possible. but, come, i want to show you a view of the gardens," he went on, pushing back the heavy drapery and drawing the two gentlemen into the embrasure of one of the great windows, from which a perfect view of the extensive park, the bosquets, the artificial lakes and tapis vert, the fountains and statues, was to be had. a thousand lanterns lighted up the scene, though they shone with but a yellow, ineffectual radiance in the moonlight, which rested in splendor on the grass and water, turning to milky whiteness the foam in the basins of the fountains and throwing long shadows on the close-clipped lawns and marble walks.
the three gentlemen gazed for some minutes in silence at the enchanting scene before them.
"'tis a fitting-setting for the palace of a king," said mr. morris, at length.
"yes—" returned mr. jefferson, slowly, "if 'tis ever fitting that a king should arrogate to his sole use the wealth, the toil, the bounty of an empire. i confess i never look at this stately palace, at these magnificent gardens, but i shudder to think of the hundred millions of francs this impoverished nation has been goaded into giving; of the thousands of lives lost in the building of these aqueducts; of the countless years and countless energy spent in devising and carrying out these schemes for royal aggrandizement and pleasure. we come here and gape and wonder at it all, and little think at what stupendous cost our senses are so gratified.
"'the man of wealth and pride
takes up a space that many poor supplied—
space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
space for his horses, equipage, and hounds;
the robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth
has robb'd the neighboring fields of half their growth;
his seat, where solitary sports are seen,
indignant spurns the cottage from the green;
around the world each needful product flies,
for all the luxuries the world supplies:
while thus the land adorn'd for pleasure—all
in barren splendor feebly waits the fall.'"
as mr. jefferson finished quoting the lines, the sound of voices and exclamations of astonishment came to the gentlemen from the other side of the curtain. looking into the salon they saw monsieur de st. aulaire surrounded by a little group of ladies and gentlemen. he was speaking quite audibly, so that his words reached the astonished group in the embrasure of the window.
"'tis the latest from the club des enragés—the king abdicates to-morrow!" he passed on amid a chorus of dismayed ejaculations.
"what is this?" said mr. jefferson, in alarm. "'tis impossible that it should be true. yonder i see montmorin. i will ask him the meaning of this," and he passed hurriedly into the salon, leaving mr. morris and calvert alone.
"'tis some infernal deviltry of st. aulaire's, i'll be bound," said mr. morris. "i think i will go, too, ned," he said, after a minute's silence, "and see if i can't find madame de flahaut. she will know what this wild report amounts to. oh, you need not stand there smiling at me with those serious eyes of yours, my young sir galahad! she's a very pretty and a very interesting woman, if a good deal of the intrigante, and as for me, i know excellently well how to take care of myself. i wonder if you do!" and with that he passed out, laughing and drawing the velvet curtains of the window together behind him.
mr. calvert, thus left alone, and being shut off from the great gallery by the drapery of the window, folded his arms, and, leaning against the open casement, gazed out at the beautiful scene before him. and as he looked up in the heavens at the moon shining with such effulgence on this scene of splendor, the thought came to him that she was shining on other and far different scenes, too—on the tides of the ocean and on the cold snows of the mountain-peaks; on squalor and wretchedness and agitation in the great city so near; and especially did he think of one tranquil and beloved spot across the sea, on which he had seen this self-same moon shining with as serene a radiance many, many times. the sounds of laughter and animated talk, the click of silver swords, the strains of music from the musicians in the gallery above the oeil de beef came faintly to him. suddenly he was aware that the curtains had been lifted, and turning around, he saw madame de st. andré standing in the light, one hand pulling back the velvet hangings, and, behind her, monsieur de beaufort and st. aulaire.
"i am come to congratulate you, monsieur," she said, smiling, and coming into the embrasure of the window, followed by the two gentlemen—it was so deep that the four could stand at ease in it, even when the curtains had been dropped. "i am come to congratulate you! your courtesy to the king was perfection itself. i was over against the oeil de beef and could see very well what passed. i am sure had his majesty been general washington himself you could not have excelled it. you must know, gentlemen," she said, laughing maliciously and turning to st. aulaire and beaufort, "you must know that when i expressed my great desire to see how an american would salute a king, monsieur told me that i need have no fear, as he had paid his respects to general washington!"
"monsieur does not mean to compare general washington with his majesty
louis xvi, does he?" drawled st. aulaire, insolently.
"no, monsieur—no," says calvert, turning to the nobleman, who was leaning negligently against the ledge of the window. "there can be no comparison. who, indeed, can be compared with him?" he breaks out suddenly. "there is none like him. none so wise or courageous or truly royal. how can the kings of this world, born in the purple, who, through no act, nor powers, nor fitness of their own, reign over their people; how can they be compared to one who, by the greatness of his talents, the soundness of his judgment, the firmness of his will, the tenderness of his heart, the overtopping majesty of his whole nature, hath raised himself so gloriously above his fellows? to one, the kingly estate is but a gift blindly bestowed; to the other, 'tis the divine right of excelling merit. the one is ruler by sufferance; the other, by acclamation. and do you think, madame," he goes on, turning to adrienne, "that that ruler who has been elevated to his greatness by the choice of a people would betray that confidence, abandon that trust, as monsieur de st. aulaire has just announced that the king of france is about to do? surely general washington would not. ah, madame! could you but see him; but see the noble calm of his countenance, the commanding eye, the consummate majesty of his presence, you would say with me, 'there is no king like him!'"
as calvert finished his impassioned eulogy of his great commander, there was a slight stir near him and, looking around, he beheld the king draw back the heavy curtains and, standing in the flood of light, look quietly into the embrasure of the window. behind him was mr. jefferson, pale and concerned-looking, but with a glow of ill-concealed pride on his countenance at the patriotic words he had just heard uttered. on either side of his majesty stood monsieur le due de broglie and monsieur de montmorin, white with anger and consternation. as the king stepped forward, madame de st. andré sank almost to the ground in a deep courtesy, while beaufort and st. aulaire dropped on their knees before him. calvert alone retained his composure and stood before the king, pale, with folded arms.
for an instant there was a profound silence, and then louis, drawing himself up to his full height and looking around upon the stricken company, turned to calvert with so much benignity in his gaze and mien that the young american was startled and awed. he never forgot that unexpected graciousness nor ceased to feel grateful for it.
"monsieur," said the king, and there was a thrill of deep feeling in his voice, "believe me, whatever failings crowned monarchs may have, they at least know how to value such deep devotion as you give your uncrowned ruler. tis as you say—this kingly estate is thrust upon us; it is not of our seeking, perhaps it would not be of our choosing; how much more grateful to us, then, is the loyalty and the love of those over whom we find ourselves involuntarily placed and who must of their own free wills give us their faith and service or else withhold them entirely! gentlemen, proud as i am of my kingdom and my subjects, i still find it in my heart to envy general washington! and yet, have i not as loyal subjects?" he turned and looked at the company about him. at his glance a hundred cries of "vive le roi!" were heard, and there was a sharp ring of silver swords as they leaped from their sheaths and were held aloft. the king stood smiling and triumphant. seeing him thus, with his courtiers about him, who could dream that the 6th of october was but a few months off!
"ah, gentlemen, i am no 'king by trade,' as our cousin of austria hath called himself. at this moment i feel that i am indeed your king." the tumult of applause which followed these words was suddenly stilled as the king lifted his hand and pointed to st. aulaire.
"but, monsieur," says louis, a sombre expression clouding the triumph in his face as he looked hard at st. aulaire, "what is the meaning of this speech of yours to which monsieur calvert makes reference?"
"nom de diable!" whispered st. aulaire to calvert, deathly pale and almost ready to faint from consternation. "you have ruined me!" he managed to make a step forward and sank down before the king, who glowered at him.
"'twas but a plaisanterie, your majesty!" and if such a jest, with a king for the butt, seems incredible, let one remember that already louis had been refused his cour plénière and the queen lampooned and hissed at the theatre.
"monsieur le baron de st. aulaire, we have heard before of your plaisanteries," said louis, his light-blue eyes flashing more wrathfully than one could have believed possible, the red heels of his shoes clicking together, and his heavy figure bent forward menacingly, "but this audacity passes belief. the court of louis the sixteenth needs no jester. for a season you can be spared attendance upon us. your estates in brittany doubtless need your presence. this unpardonable levity, monsieur," he went on, severely, "contrasts strangely with the attitude and language of this american subject," and he bowed slightly to calvert as he turned away.
st. aulaire, pallid with consternation, stretched out an imploring hand to the king. "your majesty," he said, "'twas but a thoughtless jest, too idle to be believed or repeated. will your majesty not deign to remember that st. aulaire's life and sword have been ever at your majesty's service?"
as the prostrate nobleman began to speak, the king hesitated, turned back, and looked perplexedly at him. as he gazed, a look of indecision, of distaste and weariness, crept into his countenance. all the passion, dignity, and just anger which had lit it up faded away. the brief revelation of majesty was quenched, and the customary commonplace, vacant, good-natured expression held sway once more.
"rise, monsieur de st. aulaire," he said, wearily. "we forgive you this unfortunate plaisanterie, since its execrable taste carries with it its own worst punishment. but be careful, sir, how you offend again!" with a last glance of warning, which, however, had lost its severity, the king turned away, followed by the due de broglie, and, seeking the queen, their majesties retired very shortly.
with the queen's withdrawal, all the zest and animation of the function disappeared, too, and mr. calvert, wearying of the brilliant company, determined to leave the scene and stroll through the gardens. he descended by the grand escalier des ambassadeurs, up which he had come, and, passing out through the marble court, quickly found himself on the broad terrace beneath the windows of the gallery of mirrors. from this, marble steps led down to a beautiful parterre, below which the fountain of latona played in the white moonlight. standing on the terrace, calvert could see the marble nymph through the mist of spray flung upon her from the hideous gaping mouths of the gilded frogs lying along the edge of the basin. 'twas the story of jupiter's wrath against the lyceans which the sculptor had told, and calvert remembered it out of his ovid. beyond this lovely fountain the green level of the tapis vert fell away to the great bassin d'appollon, where the sun-god disported himself among his tritons, the foamy tops of the great jets of water blown from their shell-trumpets rising high in the air and scattered into spray by the night wind.
it was a scene not to be forgotten, and mr. calvert stood gazing at it a long while—at the softly playing fountains and the sombre bosquets and the sculptured groups on every hand, showing faintly in the moonlight. fauns and satyrs peeped from the dense foliage. here there showed a venus sculptured in some ionian isle before ever caesar and his cohorts had pressed the soil of gallia beneath their roman sandals; there, a ganymede or a ceres or a minerva gleamed wan and beautiful; beneath an ilex-tree a bacchus leaned lightly on his marble thyrsus. it seemed as if all the hierarchy of olympus had descended to dwell in this royal pleasure-ground at the bidding of the roi soleil.
filled with the unrivalled beauty of the scene, calvert at length turned away and, passing down the great flight of marble steps leading to the orangery, slowly made his way into the park. the shadows were so dense here that the statues looked ghostly in the dim light. now and then he could hear a low laugh and catch the flutter of a silken gown along the shadowy walks, or the glint of a stray moonbeam on a silver sword. he strolled about, scarcely knowing whither, guided by the sound of splashing water, and coming upon many a beautiful spot in his solitary ramble, among them that famous bosquet de la reine where the scoundrelly, frightened rohan had sworn the queen had stooped to him. he passed by the place, all unconscious of its unhappy history, and so on down a broad pathway toward the tapis vert.
as he walked slowly along, charmed with the beauty of the scene around him, and smiling now and again to think that fortune should have placed him in the midst of such unaccustomed splendors, he suddenly heard the sounds of a lute near him, fingered in tentative accord, and an instant later he recognized st. aulaire's voice.
"'twas written for you, madame, and 'tis called 'le pays du tendre,'" he said, still fingering the strings. "i would wander in the land with you, madame." suddenly he begins to sing softly, and, in the silence and perfume of the summer night, his hushed voice sounded like a caress:
land of the madrigal and ode,
of rainbow air and cloudless weather,
tell me what ferny, elfin road
will lead my eager footsteps thither.
tricked out with gems shall i go hither?
or in a carriage à la mode,
land of the madrigal and ode,
of rainbow air and cloudless weather?
or in the garb by love bestow'd?
with roses crown'd and sprigs of heather,
with mandolin and dart enbow'd
shall cupid and i go together—
land of the madrigal and ode,
of rainbow air and cloudless weather?
as the last tinkling notes of the lute died away, calvert was about to go, but he was suddenly startled by hearing a faint scream. turning quickly and noiselessly in the direction from which the sound seemed to have come, he found himself in an instant in a thick and beautiful bosquet. a double row of ilex-trees, inside of which ran a colonnade of white marble, completely encircled and shut in a cleared space, in the centre of which bubbled a fountain. into this secluded spot the moon, high in the heavens, shone with unclouded radiance, so that he saw, as clearly as though 'twere noonday, madame de st. andré standing at the edge of the basin, her lips white and parted in fear, one hand pressed against her throat, the other held roughly in the grasp of monsieur de st. aulaire, who knelt before her, his lute fallen at his side. the rose which she had worn in her hair had escaped from its diamond loop and lay upon the ground; the delicate gaze d'or of her dress was torn and crushed.
for an instant calvert stood in the shadow of one of the grecian columns and looked at the scene before him in sick amazement. so it was to adrienne that st. aulaire was singing love-songs in this isolated spot at midnight! as he hesitated, monsieur de st. aulaire rose from his knees.
"you did not always treat me with such contempt, madame," he said, with a mocking laugh, "and by god, i have no mind to stand it now," and, putting one arm around her quivering shoulders and crushing in his the hand with which she would have pushed him from her, he leaned lightly over to kiss her.
as he did so, calvert stepped quietly forward ('twas wonderful how, though he always seemed to move slowly, he was ever in the right place at the right time) and, seizing st. aulaire by the collar, hurled him backward with such force that he fell heavily against one of the gleaming marble columns and lay, for an instant, stunned and motionless. feeling herself thus violently released from st. aulaire's embrace, adrienne sprang back, uttering a low cry and gazing in surprise at calvert. the ease with which he had flung off the larger and heavier man aroused her wonder as well as her admiration, for she never imagined calvert's slender, boyish figure to be possessed of so much brute strength, and, since the days of hercules and omphale, brute strength in man has ever appealed to woman. before either of them could speak, st. aulaire struggled to his feet and, wrenching his dress sword from its sheath, staggered toward calvert, thrusting wildly and ineffectually at him.
"put up your sword, my lord," says calvert, contemptuously, knocking up the silver blade with his own, which he had drawn. "we cannot fight with these toys. should you wish to pursue this affair with swords or pistols, if you prefer the english mode, you know where to find me. and now, begone, sir!"
the quiet sternness with which the young man spoke filled adrienne with fresh wonder and something like fear. she glanced from calvert's face, with its look of calm authority, to st. aulaire's convulsed countenance. the nobleman's face, usually so debonair, was now white and seamed with anger. all the hidden evil traits of his soul came out and stamped themselves visibly on his countenance, in that heat of passion, like characters written in a secret ink and brought near a flame.
"monsieur l'américain," he said, lowering his point and coming up quite close to calvert, "monsieur, you have a trick of being damnably mal apropos. i have had a lesson from you in skating and one in singing, but i need none in love-making. my patience—never very great, i fear—is at an end, sir! this intrusion, monsieur l'américain, is unpardonable," he went on, recovering his composure with a great effort, "unpardonable—unless, indeed, monsieur hoped to gain what i have just lost," he added, smiling his brilliant, insolent smile, though he had to half-kneel for support upon the marble edge of the fountain.
"silence!" said calvert, his white face filled with such sudden horror and disgust that monsieur de st. aulaire burst out laughing.
"a poor compliment to you, madame," he said to adrienne.
at the words and the mocking laughter, calvert's wrath blazed up uncontrollably. he went over to st. aulaire, where he knelt on the basin, and, catching him again by the collar, shook him to and fro without mercy.
"another word, sir, and i will toss you into this fountain with the hope that you break your head against the bottom! and now, go!"
the water in the marble basin was not very deep, but st. aulaire did not covet a ducking—'twould be too good a theme for jests at his expense; and though he could still laugh and talk insolently, he felt weak and in no condition to prevent calvert from carrying out his threat. retreat seemed to be all left to him. with a sour smile he got upon his feet, and, making an elaborate courtesy to madame de st. andré, passed through the colonnade from the bosquet.
when he had quite disappeared, calvert turned to the young girl. she still stood by the bubbling fountain, pale between anger and fright, one hand yet pressed against her throat, the other clenched and hanging by her side. at her feet the white rose lay crushed and unheeded. as calvert looked at the wilful, beautiful girl before him, he comprehended for the first time that he loved her—loved and mistrusted her. the shock of surprise that this cruel conviction brought with it held him rooted to the spot for an instant. love had ever been a vague dream to him, but certainly no woman could be further from his ideal than this brilliant, volatile, worldly creature.
a smile rippled over her face, to which the color was gradually returning.
"well done, sir! i am only sorry you did not drop him into the fountain, as you threatened. 'twould have been a light enough punishment, and, for once, we should have had the pleasure of seeing monsieur de st. aulaire in something besides his customary immaculate attire!" and she laughed faintly.
as for calvert, he could not reply to her light banter, but stood looking at her in silence.
"well, sir, why do you look at me so?" demanded adrienne, petulantly, after an instant. "have you nothing to say? but, indeed, i know you have! i can see you are dying to rebuke me for this indiscretion—this stroll with monsieur de st. aulaire!" and she gave him a mutinous side glance and tapped the gravel with her satin slipper. "one who dares express himself so frankly before the king will not hesitate to say his mind to a woman!"
"ah, madame, i fear, indeed, that you can never forgive me for having betrayed my republican sentiments so freely in the presence of your monarch—unconscious though i was of doing so."
"oh, no, monsieur, you mistake," said adrienne, maliciously. "i can forgive you for having betrayed your republican sentiments, but i can never forgive the king for not having properly rebuked them!"
at these words calvert let his gaze rest on the haughty face before him for a moment, and then, making a profound obeisance, he said, quietly:
"when you are quite ready, madame, permit me to escort you back to the palace." he spoke with such formality and dignity that adrienne blushed scarlet and bit her lips.
"before i accept monsieur calvert's escort, i wish to explain—" but
calvert interrupted her.
"no explanation is necessary, madame, surely," he said, a little wearily.
she blushed yet more deeply and raised her head imperiously. "you are right, monsieur. 'tis not necessary, as you say, but i will accept no favor—not even a safe-conduct back to the palace—from one whose manner"—she hesitated, as if at a loss for words—"whose manner is an accusation. but though i am hurt, i should not be surprised by it, sir!" she went on, advancing a step and drawing herself up proudly. "it has ever been your attitude toward me. from that first night we met i have felt myself under the ban of your disapproval. poor monsieur de st. aulaire and i!" and she laughed mockingly.
"i pray you, madame, do not name yourself in the same breath with that scoundrel!" said calvert, in a low voice.
"and why not, monsieur? we are both of the same world, we have both been brought up after the same fashion, we are probably much alike. ah, monsieur," she went on, defiantly, "is it the quaker in you—monsieur jefferson has told me that your mother was a quakeress—that makes you hate the world, the flesh, and the devil so? is paris, then, so much more wicked than your virginia? are we so different from the women of your world?" she went up to him and put her beautiful face close to his disturbed one. "are you so different from the men of our world, monsieur, or is it only those grand yeux of yours, with their serious expression, that make you seem different—and better?" and her eyes smiled mockingly into his. "pshaw, sir, you make me feel like a naughty school-girl when you reprove me so. upon my word, i don't know why i submit to it! though i am younger than you, sir, i feel a hundred years older in experience—and yet—and yet—there is something about you—" she broke off and again tapped the gravel impatiently with her foot.
"i have said nothing, madame." calvert was quiet and unsmiling.
"no, monsieur, 'tis that i most object to—you keep silence, but your eyes reprove me. oh, i have seen you looking at me with that reproving glance many times when you did not know i saw it! am i to blame, sir, for being of the great world of which you do not approve? am i to be rebuked—even silently—for coming here with monsieur de st. aulaire, by you, monsieur?" suddenly she dropped her defiant tone and, leaning against the edge of the marble basin, looked intently and silently at the splashing water gleaming white in the moonlight.
"can you not see?—do you not understand, monsieur?" she said at length, hurriedly, and in a low voice. "do not misjudge me. i have been brought up in this court life, which is the life of intrigue and dissimulation and wickedness—yes, wickedness! we know nothing else. there is no one in our world so pure as to be above suspicion. the walls of this great palace, thick and massive as they are, cannot keep out the whispers of calumny against the queen herself. is it so different in your country? sometimes i abhor this life and would hear of another. sometimes i hate all this," she went on, speaking as if more to herself than to calvert. "as for monsieur de st. aulaire, i loathe him! i thank you, monsieur, for ridding me of his presence. if i seemed ungrateful, believe me, i was not! 'tis but my pride which stands no rebuke. but it is late! will you do me the favor, monsieur, of taking me back to the galérie des glaces?" she turned her eyes away from the fountain, at which she had gazed steadily while speaking, and looked at calvert. he saw that they were full of tears. the mask was down again. there was an humbled, shamed expression on that lovely face usually so imperious. the look of appeal and distress went to his heart like a knife. she made him think of some brilliant bird cruelly wounded.
for an instant she looked at him so, and then resuming her imperious air with a palpable effort and forcing a smile to her lips, she gathered up her trailing gown and passed slowly beneath the colonnade, calvert following at her side. as she turned away, he stooped quickly and picked up the white rose she had worn where it had fallen on the path.
