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Updated: June 8, 2025
He had humbled himself once before her and she had treated him lightly, indifferently, contemptuously, and he had no mind to suffer a second humiliation. Upon one thing he was resolved that he would see d'Azay in the morning and discover if he knew of any peril that threatened.
And it seemed to him that she took a wayward pleasure in charming him, though she kept him at a distance by a sort of imperious coquetry that was not to be presumed upon. Calvert turned from his almost melancholy contemplation of the young girl to the old Duchesse d'Azay standing beside him and talking volubly to Mr. Jefferson.
Calvert had opportunity to note these subtle changes which time had wrought in the original of the miniature while Mr. Jefferson bent low over the withered, beringed hand of the old Duchess, and he waited his turn to be presented to the ladies. The ceremony over, he and d'Azay greeted each other as old friends and comrades-in-arms are wont to do.
Calvert's visit to the hotel d'Azay and the affair of the rue St. Antoine, that the day arrived for the consummation of that great event toward which all France, nay, all Europe, had been looking for months past. With a sudden burst and glory of sunshine and warm air the long, hard winter had given way to the spring of that year of 1789.
The Austrians, reinforced by the emigrant army which had been left at Brussels and in which Calvert knew d'Azay held a captain's commission, advanced during the early afternoon of June 11th and attacked the vanguard of Lafayette's army, encamped two miles from Maubeuge, farther up the Sambre, and commanded by Gouvion.
André, who stood looking after the carriage with an expression of anxiety on her face, which Calvert noticed had lost its rosy color and was now quite pale. He would have gone to her to reassure her concerning Monsieur de St. Aulaire's safety, but when he went toward her she pretended not to see him, and quickly joined Madame d'Azay and the Maréchal de Segur.
Just behind him stood two of his suite, his young kinsman, the devil-may-care Vicomte de Beaufort, and the Vicomte d'Azay, a brave young French officer who had served with Beaufort under Rochambeau and had been present before Yorktown. Mr. Jefferson advanced to the centre of the room with his guests. "My friends," he said, "this is one of the proudest and happiest moments of my life.
Morris of the opinion that this is the best thing to be done?" asked Calvert, in a low voice. "He thinks it is the only way to save d'Azay." Suddenly she came forward from the embrasure of the window and stood once more beside the table, her face lighted up by the glow of the fire. "Believe me, I know how great a thing I ask," she says, quite wildly, and covering her eyes with her hand.
"D'Azay and I were with him at the Hôtel de Ville for the greater part of the day of the 5th of October. He was no longer master of himself or of those he commanded, and I could scarce believe that this harried, brow-beaten, menaced leader of the Milice was the alert and intrepid soldier I had served under before Yorktown."
"But Monsieur Calvert loves her it seems a pretty enough way of making them happy, though 'tis a strange métier for me arranging love-matches among the nobility! However, stranger things than that are happening in France. Besides, it is necessary," he said, his light manner suddenly changing to one more serious. "I swear it is the only way of getting d'Azay out of Paris.
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