“’Tis the general opinion here among the ministers that the Emperor is too cautious ever to engage in that war, however,” said Calvert.

“I see you have been affiliating with the peaceful Pitt and not carousing with Sheridan and Fox,” returned Mr. Morris, with a smile.

“I have been endeavoring to learn some of that useful information which Mr. Jefferson recommended,” said Calvert, smiling also.  “Upon Mr. Pitt’s recommendation I have been reading ‘The Wealth of Nations’ and studying the political history of Europe.  Seriously, I hope my time has not been spent entirely without profit, although I have caroused, as you express it, to some extent.  I have drunk more than was good for me, and I have gone to the play and tried to fancy myself in love with Mrs. Jordan, but, to tell the truth, I can’t do any of these things with enthusiasm.  I’m a quiet fellow, with nothing of the stage hero in me, and I can’t go to the devil for a woman after the approved style.”

“Don’t try it, boy!  The pretty ones are not worth it and the good ones are not pretty,” said Mr. Morris, cynically.  “I found Madame de Flahaut surrounded by half a dozen new admirers, in spite of which she tried to make me believe she had not forgotten me in my absence.  I pretended to be convinced, of course, but I devoted myself to the Comtesse de Frize, and I think she liked me all the better for my defection.  Come back to Paris with me and see what Madame de St. Andre would say to a like treatment,” he went on, laughing, but looking shrewdly at the young man.

“I am best away from Paris—­although separation does not seem to help me.”

“Absence may extinguish a small passion, but I think it only broadens and deepens a great one,” said Mr. Morris.  “I saw many of our friends—­Madame de Chastellux and the Duchesse d’Orleans, Madame de Stael and Madame d’Azay—­she is much broken, Ned; the emigration of so many of her friends, the tragic death of many, the disrupting of her whole social world, has begun to tell seriously on her health, though her spirit is still indomitable.  She and Madame de St. Andre and d’Azay are living very quietly in the mansion in the rue St. Honore.  In the evenings some of the friends who still remain come in for a dinner or to play quinze or lansquenet, but, in truth, ’tis difficult to get half a dozen people together.  Madame de St. Andre is more beautiful than ever, with a new and softer beauty.  The horror of the times hath touched her, too, I think, and rendered more serious that capricious nature.  But who, indeed, could live in Paris and not be chastened by the awful scenes there enacting?  I almost shudder to think of having to return so soon, but I shall only stay to see His Grace of Leeds once more relative to the treaty.”