ding their opinions. Jacqueline
marvelled. Surely this gentleman was a Democrat-Republican, lately the
Vice-President of that party's electing. It was not two years since he
had slain General Hamilton; and now, in a quiet, refined voice, he was
talking of Federalists and Federal ways with all the familiarity,
sympathy, and ease of one born in the fold and contented with his lot.
She wondered if he had quarrelled with his party, and while he was
talking she was proudly thinking, "The Federalists will not have
him--no, not if he went on his knees to them!" And then she thought, "He
is a man without a country."

Rand sat somewhat silent and distrait, his mind occupied in building,
building, now laying the timbers this way and now that; but presently,
upon his guest's referring to him some point for elucidation, he entered
the conversation, and thenceforth, though he spoke not a great deal, his
personality dominated it. The acute intelligence opposite him took
faint alarm. "I am bargaining for a supporter," Burr told himself, "not
for a rival," and became if possible more deferentially courteous than
before. The talk went smoothly on, from Virginia politics to the
triumphal march of Napoleon through Europe; from England and the death
of Pitt to the Spanish intrigues, and so back to questions of the West;
and to references, which Jacqueline did not understand, to the Spanish
Minister, Casa Yrujo, to the English Mr. Merry, and to Messieurs Sauve,
Derbigny, and Jean Noel Destrehan of New Orleans.

Joab took away the Chelsea plates and dishes, brushed the mahogany, and
placed before his master squat decanters of sherry and Madeira. The
flowing talk took a warmer tone, and began to sing with the music of the
South and the golden West; to be charged with Spanish, French, and
Indian names, with the odour of strange flowers, the roll of the
Mississippi, and the flashing of coloured wings. It was the two men now
who spoke. Jacqueline, leaning back in her chair, half listened to the
talk of the Territory of Orleans, the Perdido, and the road to Mexico,
half dreamed of what they might be doing at Fontenoy this snowy night.
The knocker sounded. "That is Adam Gaudylock," exclaimed Rand. "Joab,
show Mr. Gaudylock in."

Jacqueline rose, and Colonel Burr sprang to open the door for her. "We
may sit late, Jacqueline," said Rand, and their guest, "Madam, I will
make court to you in a court some day!"

Gaudylock's voice floated in from th