For an instant there was a profound silence, and then Louis, drawing himself up to his full height and looking around upon the stricken company, turned to Calvert with so much benignity in his gaze and mien that the young American was startled and awed.  He never forgot that unexpected graciousness nor ceased to feel grateful for it.

“Monsieur,” said the King, and there was a thrill of deep feeling in his voice, “believe me, whatever failings crowned monarchs may have, they at least know how to value such deep devotion as you give your uncrowned ruler.  Tis as you say—­this kingly estate is thrust upon us; it is not of our seeking, perhaps it would not be of our choosing; how much more grateful to us, then, is the loyalty and the love of those over whom we find ourselves involuntarily placed and who must of their own free wills give us their faith and service or else withhold them entirely!  Gentlemen, proud as I am of my kingdom and my subjects, I still find it in my heart to envy General Washington!  And yet, have I not as loyal subjects?” He turned and looked at the company about him.  At his glance a hundred cries of “Vive le roi!” were heard, and there was a sharp ring of silver swords as they leaped from their sheaths and were held aloft.  The King stood smiling and triumphant.  Seeing him thus, with his courtiers about him, who could dream that the 6th of October was but a few months off!

“Ah, gentlemen, I am no ‘king by trade,’ as our cousin of Austria hath called himself.  At this moment I feel that I am indeed your King.”  The tumult of applause which followed these words was suddenly stilled as the King lifted his hand and pointed to St. Aulaire.

“But, Monsieur,” says Louis, a sombre expression clouding the triumph in his face as he looked hard at St. Aulaire, “what is the meaning of this speech of yours to which Monsieur Calvert makes reference?”

“Nom de diable!” whispered St. Aulaire to Calvert, deathly pale and almost ready to faint from consternation.  “You have ruined me!” He managed to make a step forward and sank down before the King, who glowered at him.

“’Twas but a plaisanterie, Your Majesty!” and if such a jest, with a king for the butt, seems incredible, let one remember that already Louis had been refused his cour pleniere and the Queen lampooned and hissed at the theatre.

“Monsieur le Baron de St. Aulaire, we have heard before of your plaisanteries,” said Louis, his light-blue eyes flashing more wrathfully than one could have believed possible, the red heels of his shoes clicking together, and his heavy figure bent forward menacingly, “but this audacity passes belief.  The court of Louis the Sixteenth needs no jester.  For a season you can be spared attendance upon us.  Your estates in Brittany doubtless need your presence.  This unpardonable levity, Monsieur,” he went on, severely, “contrasts strangely with the attitude and language of this American subject,” and he bowed slightly to Calvert as he turned away.