This interview, having been twice postponed, and pressing affairs calling Mr. Morris to France, he finally left London in January with the promise of returning in the spring.  This promise he fulfilled, getting back in May and bringing with him news of Mirabeau’s death and splendid burial and of the widespread fear of a counter-revolution by the emigrant army under the Prince de Conde.  He was warmly welcomed by Calvert, who, in spite of the many kind offices and attentions of the friends he had made, was beginning to weary of the English capital.  In truth, he was possessed by a restlessness that would have sent him home had he not wished to respect Mr. Jefferson’s advice and make a tour on the continent before returning.  He hoped to persuade Mr. Morris to accompany him, and in this he was not disappointed.  Accordingly, after a month in London, they set out for Rotterdam and, travelling leisurely through the Low Countries, made their way to Cologne.  It was while waiting there for a boat to take them up the Rhine—­both Mr. Morris and Calvert were anxious to make this water trip—­that they heard the news, already two weeks old, of the flight of their Majesties and of Monsieur from France and of the recapture of the King and Queen at Varennes.  Monsieur had escaped safely to Brussels and had made his way to Coblentz, where Mr. Morris and Calvert saw him later.  He was installed in a castle, placed at his service by the Elector of Treves, which over-looked the great fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, and there he held his little court and made merry with the officers of the Prince de Conde’s army and the throngs of emigres who came and went and did a vast deal of talking and even laughing over their misfortunes, but who never seemed to learn a lesson from them.  Coblentz was full of these exiles from France, who treated the townsfolk with a mixture of condescension and rudeness which caused them to speedily become detested.  There was one little cafe in particular, Les Trois Colonnes, which they frequented, and where they laughed and gambled and made witty speeches and tremendous threats against the men in France from whom they had run away.  It was at this little inn that Mr. Calvert one day saw Monsieur de St. Aulaire for the first time in two years.  He came into the gaming-room where Mr. Morris and Calvert were sitting at a side-table drinking a glass of cognac and talking with Monsieur de Puymaigre, one of the Prince de Conde’s officers.  As his glance met that of Mr. Calvert, he bowed constrainedly, and the red of his face deepened.  He was more dissipated-looking, less debonair than he had seemed to Calvert in Madame d’Azay’s salon.  There was an uneasiness, too, in his manner that was reflected in the attitude toward him of the other gentlemen in the room.  In fact, he was welcomed coldly enough, and in a few days he left the town.  ’Twas rumored pretty freely that he was an emissary of Orleans and that Monsieur and the Prince de Conde were in a hurry to get rid of him.  Mr. Calvert was of this belief, which was confirmed by St. Aulaire himself when Calvert met him unexpectedly during the winter in London.