ween their teeth, and no outside
interference could stay that fearful pace. The mob surged about Calvert,
increased every instant by fresh additions from the lowest quarters of
the city, reinforced by deputations from the provinces. The firing from
without grew quicker and quicker; from within fainter and less frequent,
as those devoted servants of the King were shot down, until finally
there was silence within the palace and the scarlet of the Swiss could
be seen scattered and fleeing in every direction as the armed and
triumphant mob pushed its way forward. Looking into the mad whirlwind of
faces, Calvert saw the great, disfigured head, the massive shoulders of
Danton, (but just come, on that fearful morning, to the fulness of his
infamy and power), followed by Bertrand, battling his way beside his
great leader.

"And 'twas for this I saved him!" said Calvert to himself. "Truly the
ways and ends of Providence are inscrutable!"

He watched the terrible scene a long while, and then, seeing that he was
powerless to aid those in the palace, he made his way back to the
Legation with a beating heart. The great disappointment the night had
brought, the failure of all those plans in which he had been so
profoundly interested and for which he had hazarded so much, even the
peril of the King and Queen, faded from before his mind as he thought of
Adrienne and asked himself why she had risked her life to come to him.
He saw her still galloping by his side, her face pale in the light of
the full August moon, her dusky hair blown backward, the strange,
inscrutable expression in her eyes.

She was not with the rest of the little company when Calvert once more
entered the Legation. He found her in an upper chamber, where she stood
alone beside an open window, looking out on the agitation and tumult of
the city below. She had doffed her travel-stained boy's clothes and now
wore a dress, which Madame de Montmorin had offered her, of some soft
black stuff that fell in heavy folds about her slender young figure. As
he entered she turned, hearing the sound, and their eyes met. He stood
silent, trying to fathom the strange look on that pale face. It was the
same beautiful face that he had seen in pictured loveliness that last
night at Monticello, the same that he had seen in reality for the first
time at Mr. Jefferson's levee at the Legation, and yet how changed! All
the haughty pride, the caprice, the vanity, the artificiality were gone