As for Calvert, he had been only too glad to make his escape on Madame de Stael’s cool dismissal, and had retreated to the side of Madame Necker, who was kindness itself to the young man, pointing out the great celebrities of the Paris world who thronged the rooms, and presenting him to many of the most famous people of the day.  Thither had come Monsieur le Marechal de Castries, Monsieur le Duc d’Aiguillon, Mr. Arthur Young, the noted English traveller, His Grace the Duc de Penthievre, the richest and best noble of France, together with Monsieur de Montmorin, of the Foreign Affairs, and Monsieur de la Luzerne, Minister of Marine.  Monsieur Houdon, the sculptor, was there, with a young poet named Andre Chenier, and later entered the daintily beautiful Madame de Sabran, followed by her devoted admirer, the Chevalier de Boufflers, abbe, soldier, diplomat, and courtier.  Madame de Chastellux, the Duchesse d’Orleans’s lady-in-waiting, whom Calvert had once met in America, was also making a tour of the salon, accompanied by that charming hedonist, Monsieur le Vicomte de Segur, than whom there was no wilder, lighter-headed youth in Paris, unless it was his bosom friend, Beaufort, who, catching sight of Calvert standing beside Madame Necker, straightway went over to him.

“As ever, the Squire of Elderly Dames,” he whispered to Calvert, smiling mockingly.  “Are you looking for d’Azay?  Well, he has not arrived, nor Madame la Marquise, nor Madame la Duchesse.  Trust me for seeing them as soon as they come!  In the meantime, my dear Calvert, there are some beauties here whom you must meet.  Madame de Flahaut, for example.  I shall ask Madame Necker’s permission to take you to her.  But wait,” he said, with a little laugh, and, laying a hand on Calvert’s arm, “we are forestalled!  See, Mr. Morris is just being presented,” and he motioned to where a beautiful young woman sat, before whom Mr. Morris was making a most profound bow.  Calvert thought he had rarely seen a more lovely face, though there was a touch of artificiality about it, young as it was, which he did not admire.  The soft, fair hair was thickly powdered, the cheeks rouged, and the whiteness of the chin and forehead enhanced by many patches.  The eyes were intelligent, but restless and insincere, the mouth too small.

“’Twill have to be for another time, Calvert,” said Beaufort, after an instant’s pause, during which Mr. Morris installed himself beside the lady with the evident intention of staying. “’Tis plain that the beautiful Madame de Flahaut has thrown her spell over him, and ’twill not do to break it just yet.  But by St. Denis!” he suddenly whispered to Calvert, “here comes d’Azay with the Duchess and Madame de St. Andre, attended as usual by St. Aulaire.”