news and heated discussion, the room began to ring with voices.
Broken sentences, words, and talismanic phrases danced as thick as motes
in a sunbeam. "Non-Importation.... Gregg.... Too wholesale....
Nicholson.... Silk, window-glass.... Napoleon.... Brass, playing-cards,
books, prints, beer, and ale.... Napoleon.... The Essex of Salem, the
Enoch and Rowena.... Texas--the seizure of Texas. Two millions for the
Floridas.... The Death of Pitt.... Napoleon--Austerlitz.... 'Decius' in
the Enquirer--that's John Randolph of Roanoke.... 'Aurelius'--that
letter of 'Aurelius'--"

Rand, at the corner table, had moved his chair so as to face the room.
Letters and papers were spread before him; he had broken the seal of a
thin blue sheet and drawn a candle close to the fine, neat, and pointed
writing. The letter interested him, and he apparently took no heed of
the rapid disjointed speech around him. But the word "Aurelius" brought
a sudden, darting glance, a movement of the lower lip, and a stiffening
of the shoulders. Gaudylock, who sat and smoked, supremely indifferent
to the display of newspapers, marked the flicker of emotion. "He sees a
snake in the grass," he thought lazily "Who's 'Aurelius'?"

Rand turned the thin blue page, snuffed the candle, and fell again to
his reading. Right and left the talk continued. "Glass, tin.... The
Albemarle Resolutions. Great speech. He's over there.... All this talk
about Aaron Burr.... Austerlitz--twenty thousand Russians.... Westwood
the coiner got clean away on a brig for Martinique. One villain the less
here, one the more in Martinique. Martinique! that's where the Empress
Josephine comes from--"

"My faith!" said Adam. "It's worse than the mockingbirds in June!"

The doors opened and the two Carys entered the coffee room. Rand lifted
his eyes for a moment, then let them fall to the third sheet of his
letter. Mr. Lynch bustled forward. "Ha, Mr. Cary, your letters are
waiting! Mr. Fairfax Cary,--your servant, sir!--Eli, wine for Mr.
Cary--_the_ Madeira. Christopher, more wood to the fire! The night is
falling cold."

"Very cold, Mr. Lynch," said Ludwell Cary. "Colonel Ambler--Mr. Wickham,
we meet again!"--and his brother, "We never have such cold in Albemarle,
Mr. Lynch! Ha, your fire is good, and your wine's good, and your
company's good. There's a table by the fire, Ludwell."

They moved to it, exchanging greetings, as they went, with half the
room, sat down, drank each a glass of