ert stooped quickly for it.
"Madame will permit me," he said, courteously, and, lifting his hat,
placed the coin upon the desk. Without another look or word he turned
and, followed leisurely by Beaufort, made his way to the door.

"An insolent," said Danton, savagely, to Madame, and gazing after
Beaufort's retreating back.

"Yes," returned Madame, grinding her pretty teeth with rage--"Monsieur
le Vicomte de Beaufort is an insolent--and not for the first time."

"I shall remember Monsieur le Vicomte de Beaufort's insolence as well as
I shall remember the Englishman's politeness."

Bertrand edged nearer the herculean Monsieur Danton. "Pardon, M'sieur,"
he commenced, nervously, "it is not an Englishman--it is an American--a
young American officer--Monsieur Calvert--aide-decamp to Monsieur le
Marquis de Lafayette, before Yorktown. A patriot of patriots,
Messieurs," he went on, turning to the listening throng about him; "a
lover of freedom, a compassionate heart. He saved me from death,
Messieurs, he gave me money, he sent me clothing, he saw that I was fed
and cared for, Messieurs." He told his story with many gesticulations
and much emphasis, interrupted now and then by huzzas for the young
American.

Calvert would have been vastly astonished to know that the lifting of
his hat and his courteous tone had contrived to make a popular hero of
him; as much astonished, perhaps, as Beaufort to know that his careless,
impertinent compliment to Madame Danton's charming head had sealed the
fate of his own. But 'tis in this hap-hazard fashion that the destiny of
mortals is decided. We are but the victims of chance or mischance. Of
all vainglorious philosophies, that of predestination is the vainest.

Outside, the night had fallen, and the shops, arcades, and gardens of
the Palais Royal were ablaze with innumerable candles and illuminated
Chinese lanterns. Before the entrance Monsieur de Beaufort's groom was
walking his half-frozen and restless horses up and down the icy street.

Beaufort laid his hand on Calvert's arm. "Come," he said, gloomily, "the
place is become insufferable. Let me take you back to the Legation."
Springing in he turned his horses' heads once more toward the Place
Louis XV. and the Champs Elysees, and, while he guided them through the
crowded and badly lighted thoroughfare, Calvert had leisure to think
upon the events of the last hour. It was with resentment and shame he
reflected upon his friend's airy i