Calvert never forgot
the look of the great avenue of rustling poplars and the exquisite grace
of the chateau as he and Mr. Jefferson rode up to it on that September
afternoon. A sunny stillness brooded over it; long shadows from the
pointed turrets lay upon the fine white sand of the driveway and dipped
along the gray walls of the chateau, which the hand of man had fretted
with lace-like sculpture. In an angle of the courtyard two idle lackeys
in scarlet liveries and powdered hair played with a little terrier. As
Mr. Jefferson and Calvert approached, they ran forward, one taking the
horses and the other opening the great entrance door for the two
gentlemen and ushering them into the salon where a large company was
amusing itself with cards, books, and music. The old Duchess and d'Azay,
who was down from Versailles for a few days, could not welcome the
gentlemen warmly enough, and even Adrienne seemed so pleased to see
them again that, for the first time since beginning the journey, Calvert
felt some of his misgivings quieted and dared to hope that his embassy
might not be unsuccessful. He would have spoken to her that very
evening, she was so gracious to him, but that the numerous company
prevented any conversation alone.
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