Least of all did De Courval like the change to the busy life of the city. A growing love, which he knew would arouse every prejudice his mother held dear, occupied his mind when he was not busy with Schmidt's affairs or still indecisively on the outlook for his enemy. GenÊt, dismissed, had gone to New York to live, where later he married De Witt Clinton's sister, being by no means willing to risk his head in France. His secretary, as De Courval soon heard, was traveling until the new minister arrived. Thus for the time left more at ease, De Courval fenced, rode, and talked with Schmidt.

December of this calamitous year went by and the rage of parties increased. Neither French nor English spared our commerce. The latter took the French islands, and over a hundred and thirty of our ships were seized as carriers of provisions and ruthlessly plundered, their crews impressed and many vessels left to rot, uncared for, at the wharves of San Domingo and Martinique. A nation without a navy, we were helpless. There was indeed enough wrong done by our old ally and by the mother-country to supply both parties in America with good reasons for war.

The whole land was in an uproar and despite the news of the Terror in France, the Jacobin clubs multiplied in many cities North and South, and broke out in the wildest acts of folly. In Charleston they pulled down the statue of the great statesman Pitt. The Democratic Club of that city asked to be affiliated with the Jacobin Club in Paris, while the city council voted to use no longer the absurd titles "Your Honour" and "Esquire."

Philadelphia was not behindhand in folly, but it took no official form. The astronomer Rittenhouse, head of the Republican Club, appeared one day at the widow's and showed Schmidt a copy of a letter addressed to the Vestry of Christ Church. He was full of it, and when, later, Mr. Jefferson appeared, to get the chocolate and the talk he dearly liked, Rittenhouse would have had him sign the appeal.

"This, Citizen," said the astronomer, "will interest and please you."

The Secretary read, with smiling comments: "'To the Vestry of Christ Church: It is the wish of the respectable citizens that you cause to be removed the image of George the Second from the gable of Christ Church.' Why not?" said the Secretary, as he continued to read aloud: "'These marks of infamy cause the church to be disliked.'"

"Why not remove the church, too?" said Schmidt.

"'T is of as little use," said Jefferson, and this Mrs. Swanwick did not like. She knew of his disbelief in all that she held dear.

"Thou wilt soon get no chocolate here," she said; for she feared no one and at times was outspoken.

"Madame, I shall go to meeting next First Day with the citizen Friends. My chocolate, please." He read on, aloud: "'It has a tendency to keep the young and virtuous away.' That is you and I, Rittenhouse—'the young and virtuous.'" But he did not sign, and returned this amazing document, remarking that his name was hardly needed.

"They have refused," said the astronomer, "actually refused, and it is to be removed by outraged citizens to-day, I hear. A little more chocolate, Citess, and a bun—please."

"Citess, indeed! When thou art hungry enough to speak the King's English," said Mrs. Swanwick, "thou shall have thy chocolate; and if thy grammar be very good, there will be also a slice of sally-lunn."

The philosopher repented, and was fed, while Schmidt remarked on the immortality a cake may confer; but who Sally was, no one knew.

"You will be pleased to hear, Rittenhouse, that Dr. Priestly is come to the city," said the Secretary. "He is at the Harp and Crown on Third Street."

"I knew him in England," said Schmidt; "I will call on him to-day. A great chemist, RenÉ, and the finder of a new gas called oxygen."

When the star-gazer had gone away the Secretary, after some talk about the West Indian outrages, said: "I shall miss your chocolate, Madame, and my visits. You have heard, no doubt, of the cabinet changes."

"Some rumors, only," said Schmidt.

"I have resigned, and go back to my home and my farming. Mr. Hamilton will also fall out this January, and General Knox, no very great loss. Colonel Pickering takes his place."

"And who succeeds Hamilton, sir?"

"Oh, his satellite, Wolcott. The ex-Secretary means to pull the wires of his puppets. He loves power, as I do not. But the chocolate, alas!"

"And who, may I ask," said Mrs. Swanwick, "is to follow thee, Friend Jefferson?"

"Edmund Randolph, I believe. Bradford will have his place of Attorney-General. And now you have all my gossip, Madame, and I leave next week. I owe you many thanks for the pleasant hours in your home. Good-by, Mr. Schmidt; and Vicomte, may I ask to be remembered to your mother? I shall hope to be here now and then."

"We shall miss thee, Friend Jefferson," said the widow.

"I would not lessen thy regrets," he said. "Ah, one lingers." He kissed the hand he held, his bright hazel eyes aglow. "Good-by, Miss Margaret." And bowing low, he left them.

Schmidt looked after him, smiling.

"Now thou art of a mind to say naughty things of my friend," said Mrs. Swanwick. "I know thy ways."

"I was, but I meant only to criticize his politics. An intelligent old fox with golden eyes. He is of no mind to accept any share of the trouble this English treaty will make, and this excise tax."

RenÉ, who was beginning to understand the difficulties in a cabinet where there was seldom any unanimity of opinion, said: "There will be more peace for the President."

"And less helpful heads," said Schmidt. "Hamilton is a great loss, and Jefferson in some respects. They go not well in double harness. Come, RenÉ, let us go and see the philosopher. I knew him well. Great men are rare sights. A Jacobin philosopher! But there are no politics in gases."

The chemist was not at home, and hearing shouts and unusual noise on Second Street, they went through Church Alley to see what might be the cause. A few hundred men and boys of the lower class were gathered in front of Christ Church, watched by a smaller number of better-dressed persons, who hissed and shouted, but made no attempt to interfere when, apparently unmolested, a man, let down from the roof of the gable, tore off the leaden medallion of the second George[1] amid the cheering and mad party cries of the mob.

Schmidt said: "Now they can say their prayers in peace, these Jacobin Christians."

In one man's mind there was presently small thought of peace. When the crowd began to scatter, well pleased, Schmidt saw beside him De la ForÊt, consul-general of France, and with him Carteaux. He threw his great bulk and broad shoulders between De Courval and the Frenchmen, saying: "Let us go. Come, RenÉ."

As he spoke, Carteaux, now again in the service, said: "We do it better in France, Citizen Consul. The Committee of Safety and PÈre Couthon would have shortened the preacher by a head. Oh, they are leaving. Have you seen the caricature of the aristocrat Washington on the guillotine? It has made the President swear, I am told."

As he spoke, De Courval's attention was caught by the French accents and something in the voice, and he turned to see the stranger who spoke thus insolently.

"Not here, RenÉ. No! no!" said Schmidt. He saw De Courval's face grow white as he had seen it once before.

"Let us go," said De la ForÊt.

"A feeble mob of children," returned Carteaux.

As he spoke, De Courval struck him a single savage blow full in the face.

"A fight! a fight!" cried the crowd. "Give them room! A ring! a ring!"

There was no fight in the slighter man, who lay stunned and bleeding, while RenÉ struggled in Schmidt's strong arms, wild with rage.

"You have done enough," said the German; "come!" RenÉ, silent, himself again, stared at the fallen man.

"What is the meaning of this outrage!" said De la ForÊt. "Your name, sir?"

"I am the Vicomte de Courval," said RenÉ, perfectly cool. "You will find me at Madame Swanwick's on Front Street."

Carteaux was sitting upon the sidewalk, still dazed and bleeding. The crowd looked on. "He hits hard," said one.

"Come, RenÉ," said the German, and they walked away, RenÉ still silent.

"I supposed it would come soon or late," said Schmidt. "We shall hear from them to-morrow."

"Mon Dieu, but I am glad. It is a weight off my mind. I shall kill him."

Schmidt was hardly as sure. Neither man spoke again until they reached home.

"Come to my room, RenÉ," said the German after supper. "I want to settle that ground-rent business."

As they sat down, he was struck with the young man's look of elation. "Oh, my pipe first. Where is it? Ah, here it is. What do you mean to do?"

"Do? I do not mean to let him think it was only the sudden anger of a French gentleman at a Jacobin's vile speech. He must know why I struck."

"That seems reasonable."

"But I shall not involve in my quarrel a man of your rank. I shall ask Du Vallon."

"Shall you, indeed! There is wanted here a friend and an older head. What rank had I when you saw me through my deadly duel with El Vomito? Now, no more of that." De Courval yielded.

"I shall write to him and explain my action. He may put it as he pleases to others."

"I see no better way. Write now, and let me see your letter."

RenÉ sat at the table and wrote while Schmidt smoked, a troubled and thoughtful man. "He is no match for that fellow with the sword; and yet"—and he moved uneasily—"it will be, on the whole, better than the pistol." Any thought of adjustment or of escape from final resort to the duel he did not consider. It would have been out of the question for himself and, as he saw it, for any man of his beliefs and training.

"Here it is, sir," said RenÉ. The German gentleman laid down his long pipe and read:

"That will do," said Schmidt. "He shall have it to-night. You will have a week to spend with Du Vallon. No prudent man would meet you in the condition in which you left him."

"I suppose not. I can wait. I have waited long. I regret the delay chiefly because in this city everything is known and talked about, and before we can end the matter it will be heard of here."

"Very probably; but no one will speak of it before your mother, and you may be sure that these good people will ask no questions, and only wonder and not realize what must come out of it."

"Perhaps, perhaps." He was not so sure and wished to end it at once.

It had been in his power to have made the social life of the better republicans impossible for his father's murderer; but this might have driven Carteaux away and was not what he desired. The constant thought of his mother had kept him as undecided as Hamlet, but now a sudden burst of anger had opened the way to what he longed for. He was glad.

When, that night, Jean Carteaux sat up in bed and read by dim candlelight De Courval's letter, he, too, saw again the great hall at Avignon and recalled the blood madness. His Jacobin alliances had closed to him in Philadelphia the houses of the English party and the Federalists, and in the society he frequented, at the official dinners of the cabinet officers, he had never seen De Courval, nor, indeed, heard of him, or, if at all casually, without his title and as one of the many ÉmigrÉs nobles with whom he had no social acquaintance. It was the resurrection of a ghost of revenge. He had helped to send to the guillotine others as innocent as Jean de Courval, and then, at last, not without fear of his own fate, had welcomed the appointment of commissioner to San Domingo and, on his return to France, had secured the place of secretary to GenÊt's legation. The mockery of French sentiment in the clubs of the American cities, the cockades, and red bonnets, amused him. It recoiled from personal violence, and saying wild things, did nothing of serious moment. The good sense and the trust of the great mass of the people throughout the country in one man promised little of value to France, as Carteaux saw full well when the recall of GenÊt was demanded. He felt the chill of failure in this cooler air, but was of no mind to return to his own country. He was intelligent, and, having some means, meant that his handsome face should secure for him an American wife, and with her a comfortable dowry; for who knew of his obscure life in Paris? And now here was that affair at Avignon and the ruin of his plans. He would at least close one mouth and deny what it might have uttered. There was no other way, and for the rest—well, a French ÉmigrÉ had heard him speak rashly and had been brutal. The Jacobin clubs would believe and stand by him. De la ForÊt must arrange the affair, and so far this insolent ci-devant could have said nothing else of moment.

De la ForÊt called early the next day, and was referred to Schmidt as RenÉ left the room. No pacific settlement was discussed or even mentioned. The consul, well pleased, accepted the sword as the weapon, and this being Sunday, on Thursday at 7 A.M. there would be light enough, and they would cross on the ice to New Jersey; for this year one could sleigh from the city to the capes, and from New York to Cape Cod—or so it was said.

Meanwhile the Jacobin clubs rang with the insult to a French secretary, and soon it was the talk in the well-pleased coffee-houses and at the tables of the great merchants. RenÉ said nothing, refusing to gratify those who questioned him.

"A pity," said Mrs. Chew to Penn, the Governor, as men still called him. "And why was it? The young man is so serious and so quiet and, as I hear, religious. I have seen him often at Christ Church with his mother, or at Gloria Dei."

"One can get a good deal of religion into a blow," remarked Hamilton, "or history lies. The man insulted him, I am told, and the vicomte struck him." Even Hamilton knew no more than this.

"Still, there are milder ways of calling a man to account," said young Thomas Cadwalader, while Hamilton smiled, remembering that savage duel in which John Cadwalader, the father, had punished the slanderer, General Conway.

"Will there be a fight?" said Mrs. Byrd.

"Probably," said Penn, and opinion among the Federals was all for the vicomte. Meanwhile no one spoke of the matter at the widow's quiet house, where just now the severe winter made social visits rare.

As for De Courval he fenced daily with Du Vallon, who was taken into their confidence and shared Schmidt's increasing anxiety.