lden eyes. He is of no mind to accept any share of the
trouble this English treaty will make, and this excise tax."

Rene, 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,
Rene, 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.

[1] The leaden bas-relief has since been replaced.

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
Foret, 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, Rene."

As he spoke, Carteaux, now again in the service, said: "We do it better
in France, Citizen Consul. The Committee of Safety and Pere 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, Rene. 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 Foret.

"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 R