sunshine of the deserted little street. There
were some linden-trees planted in a hollow square before the parvis of
the Cathedral, and stone benches set beneath them. Upon one of these he
sank down, as if physically weary. Perhaps he was--at any rate, a
sudden, sick disgust for everything, for the melancholy afternoon
sunshine and the yellowing grass and blighted flowers, took possession
of him. The wind, rising, made a dreary sound among the stiffening
leaves. One fluttered downward and lay upon the bench beside him. He
noted with surprise the sudden chill, the first touch of coming winter.
But that morning it had seemed like spring to him.

He looked up at the great front of the Cathedral, unchanging through so
many changing years, and, as he looked, he thought how small and
ephemeral a thing he was and his love and grief. The two great spires
towering upward seemed to his sick fancy like two uplifted hands drawing
benediction down on the weary, grief-stricken world, and before their
awful patience and supplication something of his own impatience and
bitterness passed from him and, comforted, he left the spot and made his
way along the deserted quay and so back to the little inn where Mr.
Jefferson awaited him.

CHAPTER XV

CHRISTMAS EVE

Had it not been for Mr. Morris's sudden return from London, Calvert
would have felt alone, indeed, in Paris. Having received certain
intelligence concerning the plan for the purchase of the American debt
to France, Mr. Morris set off hastily for France and arrived there
several days before Mr. Jefferson's departure for Havre. This absence,
as all thought, was to be but temporary, but, when Mr. Jefferson left
Paris on that morning of the 26th of September, it was never to return.
He left his affairs in the hands of Calvert and Mr. Short, and, as for
the former, he was only too happy to plunge into work and so forget, if
possible, his own unhappiness. Mr. Morris easily divined it, however,
and its cause, and tried, in his cynical, kindly fashion, to divert the
young man. He made it a point to see Calvert frequently, and, indeed, it
was not only out of kindness of heart that he did so, but because he had
the greatest liking for the young gentleman and enjoyed his society
above that of most of his acquaintances. It was easy enough for the two
to see much of each other, for although the approach of winter brought a
slight return of gayety, Paris was dreary and deserted enoug