t the great
celebrities of the Paris world who thronged the rooms, and presenting
him to many of the most famous people of the day. Thither had come
Monsieur le Marechal de Castries, Monsieur le Duc d'Aiguillon, Mr.
Arthur Young, the noted English traveller, His Grace the Duc de
Penthievre, the richest and best noble of France, together with Monsieur
de Montmorin, of the Foreign Affairs, and Monsieur de la Luzerne,
Minister of Marine. Monsieur Houdon, the sculptor, was there, with a
young poet named Andre Chenier, and later entered the daintily beautiful
Madame de Sabran, followed by her devoted admirer, the Chevalier de
Boufflers, abbe, soldier, diplomat, and courtier. Madame de Chastellux,
the Duchesse d'Orleans's lady-in-waiting, whom Calvert had once met in
America, was also making a tour of the salon, accompanied by that
charming hedonist, Monsieur le Vicomte de Segur, than whom there was no
wilder, lighter-headed youth in Paris, unless it was his bosom friend,
Beaufort, who, catching sight of Calvert standing beside Madame Necker,
straightway went over to him.

"As ever, the Squire of Elderly Dames," he whispered to Calvert, smiling
mockingly. "Are you looking for d'Azay? Well, he has not arrived, nor
Madame la Marquise, nor Madame la Duchesse. Trust me for seeing them as
soon as they come! In the meantime, my dear Calvert, there are some
beauties here whom you must meet. Madame de Flahaut, for example. I
shall ask Madame Necker's permission to take you to her. But wait," he
said, with a little laugh, and, laying a hand on Calvert's arm, "we are
forestalled! See, Mr. Morris is just being presented," and he motioned
to where a beautiful young woman sat, before whom Mr. Morris was making
a most profound bow. Calvert thought he had rarely seen a more lovely
face, though there was a touch of artificiality about it, young as it
was, which he did not admire. The soft, fair hair was thickly powdered,
the cheeks rouged, and the whiteness of the chin and forehead enhanced
by many patches. The eyes were intelligent, but restless and insincere,
the mouth too small.

"'Twill have to be for another time, Calvert," said Beaufort, after an
instant's pause, during which Mr. Morris installed himself beside the
lady with the evident intention of staying. "'Tis plain that the
beautiful Madame de Flahaut has thrown her spell over him, and 'twill
not do to break it just yet. But by St. Denis!" he suddenly whispered to
Calvert, "here