eaufort's wild talk, Mr. Jefferson suddenly rose in
his place.

"One more toast," he said, in a loud voice--"a toast without which we
cannot disperse. Ned, I call on you, who are his young favorite, for a
toast to General Washington!"

There was a burst of applause at the name, and then Calvert rose. He was
a gallant young figure as he stood there, his wine-glass uplifted and a
serious expression on his boyish face.

"To the one," he cried, after an instant's hesitation, "whom we hold in
our hearts to be the bravest of soldiers, the purest of patriots, and
the wisest of men--General Washington!"

As he spoke the last words, Mr. Jefferson drew aside a heavy curtain
which had hung across the wall behind his chair, and as the velvet fell
apart a replica of the famous portrait of General Washington, which Mr.
Stuart had but lately painted for the Marquis of Lansdowne, was revealed
to the surprised and delighted guests. Amid a burst of patriotic
enthusiasm everyone arose and, with glass upheld, saluted the great
Hero, and then--and for the last time for many years--the Sage of
Monticello.

CHAPTER IV

AT THE PALAIS ROYAL

It was in pursuance of his favorite plan to make Calvert his secretary,
should he be appointed Minister to the court of Louis XVI., that Mr.
Jefferson wrote to the young man four years later, inviting him to come
to France. This invitation was eagerly accepted, and it was thus that
Mr. Calvert found himself in company with Beaufort at the American
Legation in Paris on that February evening in the year 1789.

When the great doors of the Legation had shut upon the two young men,
they found themselves under the marquise where Beaufort's sleigh--a very
elaborate and fantastic affair--awaited them. Covering themselves with
the warm furs, they set off at a furious pace down the Champs Elysees to
the Place Louis XV. It was both surprising and alarming to Calvert to
note with what reckless rapidity Beaufort drove through the crowded
boulevard, where pedestrians mingled perforce with carriages, sleighs,
and chairs, there being no foot pavements, and with what smiling
indifference he watched their efforts to get out of his horses' way.

"'Tis insufferable, my dear Calvert," he said, when his progress was
stopped entirely by a crowd of people, who poured out of a small street
abutting upon the boulevard, "'tis insufferable that this rabble cannot
make way for a gentleman's carriage."

"I should th