were viewing the ever-increasing crowds in the streets from the great stone balcony draped with silken banners and rich velvet hangings.  The British Ambassador and the Ambassadress, Lady Sutherland (whom Calvert had the honor of meeting for the first time), were there, as was Madame de Montmorin, Madame de Stael, and Madame de St. Andre, looking radiant in the brilliant morning sunshine.  As Mr. Calvert bent over her hand he thought to himself that she might have sat for a portrait of Aurora’s self, so fresh and beautiful did she look.  The sun struck her dark hair (over which she wore no covering) to burnished brightness, the violet eyes sparkled with animation, and her complexion had the freshness and delicacy of some exquisite flower.

“I am glad you are here, Monsieur l’Americain, on this great day for France, one of the most momentous, one of the happiest in all her history.  You see I have not forgotten your fondness for history!” and she shot him an amused glance.

“I am glad, too, Madame,” replied Calvert, seating himself beside her.  “’Tis one of the most momentous days in France’s history, as you say, but one of the happiest?—­I don’t know,” and he looked dubiously at the thronged streets, for he was of Mr. Morris’s way of thinking, and, try as he might, he could not bring himself to look upon the course of affairs with the optimism Mr. Jefferson felt.

“Are you going to be gloomy on this beautiful day?” demanded Adrienne, impatiently.  “Aren’t the very heavens giving us a sign that they approve of this event?  Mr. Jefferson is the only one of you who appreciates this great occasion—­even Mr. Morris, who is usually so agreeable, seems to be out of spirits,” and she glanced toward that gentleman where he sat between Madame de Montmorin and Madame de Flahaut, who had just arrived with Beaufort.  Mr. Morris, hearing his name spoken, arose and went over to Madame de St. Andre.

“Are you saying evil things about me to Mr. Calvert, my dear young lady?” he asked, bowing with that charming show of deference which he always paid a pretty woman and which in part atoned for the cynical expression in his keen eyes.

“But yes,” returned Adrienne, laughing.  “I was saying that you wore a displeased air almost as if you envied France her good fortune of to-day!”

“You mistake me,” said Mr. Morris, warmly.  “I have France’s interest and happiness greatly at heart.  The generous wish which a free people must form to disseminate freedom, the grateful emotion which rejoices in the happiness of a benefactor, and a strong personal interest as well in the liberty as in the power of this country, all conspire to make us far from indifferent spectators,” and he glanced at Calvert as though certain of having expressed the young man’s sentiments as well as his own.  “The leaders here are our friends, many of them have imbibed their principles in America, and all have been fired by our example.  If I wear an anxious air ’tis because I am not sure that that example can be safely imitated in this country, that those principles can be safely inculcated here, that this people, once having thrown off the yoke of absolute dependence on and obedience to kingly power, will not confound license with liberty.  But enough of this,” he said, smiling.  “May I ask why the Duchess is not of the company?”