up and said:

"I forgot. Pardon me, Citess."

Hamilton laughed merrily. "Is that the last invention?"

"It sounds like the name of some wild little animal," said the Pearl.

"Neat, that, Margaret," said Hamilton; "and might I, too, have a peach?
Mr. Jefferson has emptied the basket."

Margaret rose, and with De Courval went down the garden, a fair
presentment of the sexes, seen and approved by Hamilton, while Jefferson
said gaily:

"The transit of Venus, Rittenhouse," for it was that observation which
had given this star-gazer fame and recognition abroad.

"My compliments, sir," said Schmidt. "I regret not to have said it."

Jefferson bowed. He was at his best, for neither manners nor wit were
wanting in his social hour. The astronomer, without comment, went on
eating sweet bread. They drank chocolate and chatted idly of the new
luxury--ice-cream, which Monsieur de Malerive made for a living, and
sold on the mall we now call Independence Square. They talked, too, of
the sad influx of people from San Domingo; the widow, attentive,
intellectually sympathetic, a pleasant portrait of what the silver-clad
Pearl would be in days to come; she, the girl, leaning against a pillar
of the porch, a gray figure silently watchful, curious, behind her for
background the velvets of the rival statesmen, the long broidered
waistcoats, the ribbon-tied queues, and the two strongly contrasted
faces. Perhaps only Schmidt recognized the grace and power of the group
on the porch.

The warm August evening was near its close, and a dark storm, which hung
threateningly over the Jersey shore, broke up the party. Warned by
rolling thunder, the three men went away in peaceful talk.

"The hate they have buried in their bellies," said Schmidt; "but, Rene,
they are of the peerage, say what they may. Equality! _Der gute Himmel!_
All men equal--and why not all women, too! He left that out. Equal
before the law, perhaps--not his slaves; before God, no--nor man. Does
he think Hamilton his equal? He does not love the gentleman entirely.
But these two are, as fate, inevitable withal, rulers of men. I have
seen the labeled creatures of other lands--kings, ministers. These men
you saw here are the growth of a virgin soil--_Ach!_ 'There were giants
in those days,' men will say." Mrs. Swanwick listened quietly,
considering what was said, not always as quick as Margaret to understand
the German. He spoke further of the never-pleased Virginian, and then