At his tone of
command, without a word, she stepped quickly from her coach into that of
Mr. Morris.
"Heavens, Madame! are you alone in this mob?" asks Mr. Morris, in much
concern.
"Yes--I have just left my aunt in the rue St. Honore," says Adrienne,
sinking down on the cushions. Mr. Morris put his head out of the window.
"Drive on, Martin!" he calls out. "To Mr. Jefferson's." But it is
impossible for the plunging horses to move, so dense is the mob and so
threatening its attitude.
"They are arming themselves with stones," he says, looking out again.
"We are in a pretty pass between this insane mob and the cavalry, which
is advancing!" Suddenly he bursts the door open and, standing on the
coach-step, so that he is well seen, he calls out, "Drive on there,
Martin! Who stops an American's carriage in Paris?"
As he made his appearance at the coach-door a shout went up, and a man
standing near and pointing to Mr. Morris's wooden stump, cries out,
"Make way for the American patriot crippled in the Revolution!" At his
words a great cheer goes up, and Mr. Morris, scrambling back into the
coach, bursts out into such a hearty laugh that Calvert, and Adrienne,
too, in spite of her fright, cannot refrain from joining in it.
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