and then in the crowd was seen some beautiful woman on skates or more frequently wrapped in furs and being pushed luxuriously about in a chair-sleigh by lackeys and attended by a retinue of admirers.  On the terrace of the garden overlooking the river a throng of the most notable people of the court and society, drawn hither by the novelty of the pastime and comfortably installed in chairs brought by their servants, with chaufferettes and furs to keep them protected from the intense cold, looked on at the shifting, swiftly moving pageant before them.  For the time being the Parisian world was mad about skating, both because of its popularity as an English sport and because of the rarity with which it could be enjoyed in France.

Joining the throng of spectators, Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Morris quickly found themselves surrounded by friends and acquaintances, and Calvert left them talking with Madame d’Azay, Madame de Flahaut, and the Marechal de Segur, while he put on his skates.  The young man was no great proficient in the art of skating as he was in that of swimming and riding (indeed, he was a most perfect equestrian, seeming to have some secret understanding and entente cordiale with every animal he ever bestrode), but with that facile acquirement of any physical accomplishment which ever distinguished him, he was soon perfectly at ease on the ice.

It was while opposite the Place du Carrousel and almost out of sight of the crowd of onlookers, that Calvert suddenly came upon Madame de St. Andre.  She had ventured upon the ice on skates, and was talking to St. Aulaire, who skated slowly beside her.  Even in the bright sunshine the Baron de St. Aulaire did not show his age, and moved and bore himself with incomparable grace on the ice.  Indeed, in his rich dress and splendid decorations he made a dazzling appearance, and quite eclipsed Mr. Calvert in his sober garments and unpowdered hair.  Calvert would have passed by or retreated without intruding himself upon Madame de St. Andre, but before he could do either she had caught sight of him, and he saw, or fancied he saw, a look of relief pass over her face and a welcome dawn in her eyes.  Thinking so, he skated slowly toward her, wishing to be sure that he was wanted, and, as he did so, the gentleman, perceiving his approach, ceased speaking and looked most obviously annoyed at the young man’s arrival.

Madame de St. Andre waved her hand lightly.  “Au revoir, Monsieur de St. Aulaire!” she cried.  “Here is Monsieur Calvert, who will take me back over the ice, so I shall not have to trouble you,” and she laughed in a relieved, if somewhat agitated, fashion as St. Aulaire, doffing his hat and scowling fiercely at Calvert, skated rapidly away.  As Calvert looked at the retreating figure, Beaufort’s words of two days before flashed through his mind again, and it was with a sort of horror that he thought of this dissolute nobleman having even spoken with Madame de St. Andre.  Was this beautiful girl