Jefferson sitting alone before the bright fire in his library. As soon
as he heard the young man's step he looked up eagerly.
"At last!" he cried. "I was wishing that you would come in. Mr. Morris
has just been despatched in my carriage to the rue Richelieu, and I was
beginning to wonder what that wild Beaufort had done with you to keep
you so late."
"We are but just returned from a sight of the Palais Royal," said
Calvert, throwing off his great-coat and sitting down beside Mr.
Jefferson, who rang for candles and a box of his Virginia tobacco. "And
a strange enough sight it was--a turbulent crowd, and much political
speaking from hoarse-throated giants held aloft on their friends'
shoulders." "A strange enough place, indeed," said Mr. Jefferson,
shaking his head and smiling a little at Calvert's wholesale description
of it. "'Tis the political centre of Paris, in fact, and though the
crowds may be turbulent and the orators windy, yet 'tis there that the
fruitful seed of the political harvest, which this great country will
reap with such profit, is being sown. 'Despise not the day of small
things,'" he went on, cheerfully.
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