The Red City Part 29

"But thou art, it seems, more free to question some other people."

"Oh, but that is different; and, Monsieur," she said demurely, "thou must not say thou and thee to me. Thy mother says it is not proper."

He laughed. "If I am thou for thee, were it not courteous to speak to thee in thy own tongue?"

She colored, remembering the lesson and her own shrewd guess at the lady's meaning, and how, as she was led to infer, to _tutoyer_, to say thou, inferred a certain degree of intimacy. "It is not fitting here except among Friends."

"And why not? In France we do it."

"Yes, sometimes, I have so heard." But to explain further was far from her intention. "It sounds foolish here, in people who are not of Friends. I said so--"

"But are we not friends?"

"I said Friends with a big F, Monsieur."

"I make my apologies,"--he laughed with a formal bow,--"but one easily catches habits of talk."

"Indeed, I am in earnest, and thou must mend thy habits. Friend Marguerite Swanwick desires to be excused of the Vicomte de Courval,"

and, smiling, she swept the courtesy of reply to his bow as the autumn leaves fell from the gathered skirts.

"As long as thou art thou, it will be hard to obey," he said, and she making no reply, they wandered homeward through level shafts of sunlight, while fluttering overhead on wings of red and gold, the cupids of the forest enjoyed the sport, and the young man murmured: "Thou and thee," dreaming of a walk with her in his own Normandy among the woodlands his boyhood knew.

"Thou art very silent," she said at last.

"No, I am talking; but not to you--of you, perhaps."

"Indeed," and she ceased to express further desire to be enlightened, and fell to asking questions about irregular French verbs.

Just before they reached the house, Margaret said: "I have often meant to ask thee to tell me what thou didst do in the city. Friend Schmidt said to mother that Stephen Girard could not say too much of thee. Tell me about it, please."

"No," he returned abruptly. "It is a thing to forget, not to talk about."

"How secretive thou art!" she said, pouting, "and thou wilt never, never speak of France." In an instant she knew she had been indiscreet as he returned:

"Nor ever shall. Certainly not now."

"Not--not even to me?"

"No." His mind was away in darker scenes.

Piqued and yet sorry, she returned, "Thou art as abrupt as Daniel Offley."

"Mademoiselle!"

"What have I said?"

"Daniel Offley is dead. I carried him into his own house to die, a brave man when few were brave."

"I have had my lesson," she said. There were tears in her eyes, a little break in her voice.

"And I, Pearl; and G.o.d was good to me."

"And to me," she sobbed; "I beg thy pardon--but I want to say--I must say that thou too wert brave, oh, as brave as any--for I know--I have heard."

"Oh, Pearl, you must not say that! I did as others did." She had heard him call her Pearl unreproved, or had she not? He would set a guard on his tongue. "It is chilly. Let us go in," for they had stood at the gate as they talked.

It was their last walk, for soon the stripped trees and the ground were white with an early snowfall and the autumn days had gone, and on the first of December reluctantly they moved to the city.

XVI

Least of all did De Courval like the change to the busy life of the city. A growing love, which he knew would arouse every prejudice his mother held dear, occupied his mind when he was not busy with Schmidt's affairs or still indecisively on the outlook for his enemy. Genet, dismissed, had gone to New York to live, where later he married De Witt Clinton's sister, being by no means willing to risk his head in France.

His secretary, as De Courval soon heard, was traveling until the new minister arrived. Thus for the time left more at ease, De Courval fenced, rode, and talked with Schmidt.

December of this calamitous year went by and the rage of parties increased. Neither French nor English spared our commerce. The latter took the French islands, and over a hundred and thirty of our ships were seized as carriers of provisions and ruthlessly plundered, their crews impressed and many vessels left to rot, uncared for, at the wharves of San Domingo and Martinique. A nation without a navy, we were helpless.

There was indeed enough wrong done by our old ally and by the mother-country to supply both parties in America with good reasons for war.

The whole land was in an uproar and despite the news of the Terror in France, the Jacobin clubs multiplied in many cities North and South, and broke out in the wildest acts of folly. In Charleston they pulled down the statue of the great statesman Pitt. The Democratic Club of that city asked to be affiliated with the Jacobin Club in Paris, while the city council voted to use no longer the absurd t.i.tles "Your Honour" and "Esquire."

Philadelphia was not behindhand in folly, but it took no official form.

The astronomer Rittenhouse, head of the Republican Club, appeared one day at the widow's and showed Schmidt a copy of a letter addressed to the Vestry of Christ Church. He was full of it, and when, later, Mr.

Jefferson appeared, to get the chocolate and the talk he dearly liked, Rittenhouse would have had him sign the appeal.

"This, Citizen," said the astronomer, "will interest and please you."

The Secretary read, with smiling comments: "'To the Vestry of Christ Church: It is the wish of the respectable citizens that you cause to be removed the image of George the Second from the gable of Christ Church.'

Why not?" said the Secretary, as he continued to read aloud: "'These marks of infamy cause the church to be disliked.'"

"Why not remove the church, too?" said Schmidt.

"'T is of as little use," said Jefferson, and this Mrs. Swanwick did not like. She knew of his disbelief in all that she held dear.

"Thou wilt soon get no chocolate here," she said; for she feared no one and at times was outspoken.

"Madame, I shall go to meeting next First Day with the citizen Friends.

My chocolate, please." He read on, aloud: "'It has a tendency to keep the young and virtuous away.' That is you and I, Rittenhouse--'the young and virtuous.'" But he did not sign, and returned this amazing doc.u.ment, remarking that his name was hardly needed.

"They have refused," said the astronomer, "actually refused, and it is to be removed by outraged citizens to-day, I hear. A little more chocolate, Citess, and a bun--please."

"Citess, indeed! When thou art hungry enough to speak the King's English," said Mrs. Swanwick, "thou shall have thy chocolate; and if thy grammar be very good, there will be also a slice of sally-lunn."

The philosopher repented, and was fed, while Schmidt remarked on the immortality a cake may confer; but who Sally was, no one knew.

"You will be pleased to hear, Rittenhouse, that Dr. Priestly is come to the city," said the Secretary. "He is at the Harp and Crown on Third Street."

"I knew him in England," said Schmidt; "I will call on him to-day. A great chemist, Rene, and the finder of a new gas called oxygen."