Suddenly, as Mr. Stuart was advancing with out-stretched hands to swing Miss Gary, there was a blare of horns and a chorus of “hellos” from without, mingled with the sound of horses galloping up the avenue.  The dancers ceased their courtesying and stately step, the music stopped, and Mr. Jefferson hurried to the portico in time to greet the young Marquis de Lafayette and his escort as they flung themselves off their hot mounts.  Every head was uncovered as the young Frenchman affectionately embraced Mr. Jefferson, and greetings and acclamations went up from the throng of guests as they appeared at the entrance.

’Twas not wonderful that Mr. Jefferson, like General Washington, Colonel Hamilton, General Greene, and so many others of our distinguished patriots, was captivated by this young nobleman, and could the jealous ones who asserted that they were dazzled by his rank and awed and flattered into giving him more than he merited but have seen him in the first flush of his glory and young manhood they, too, would have found his charm irresistible.  Indeed, to Mr. Jefferson he was always the hero, the man of genius and spotless patriotism, though many, in after years, grew to distrust his powers and motives.

As Monsieur de Lafayette stood there at the door of the drawing-room, smiling and bowing after his own graceful fashion, there was a bright daring, a gay gallantry in the expression of his youthful face—­he was but six and twenty and major-general, diplomat, and friend of philosophers—­that won all hearts; and though the countenance was not handsome, the broad, slightly receding forehead, straight nose, and delicate mouth and chin gave to it a very distinguished appearance.  The three-cornered continental hat which he swept to the ground before the ladies disclosed a flaming red head, the hair slightly powdered and tied back with a black ribbon.  His tall figure—­he was of equal height with Mr. Jefferson, who was over six feet—­was enveloped in a light riding-coat with short capes over the shoulders, which, when he threw it off, disclosed to view the uniform of a major-general of continental dragoons.  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.  Monticello shelters for the first time-America’s illustrious ally and devoted soldier, the Marquis de Lafayette, and his fellow-countrymen and officers, Messieurs les Vicomtes de Beaufort and d’Azay.  I salute them for you!” Turning, he embraced the three young men, and then, placing his hand on the Marquis’s arm, he led him to Mrs. Carr.

“Madame,” he said, “I leave the Marquis in your hands for the present.”  He went back to the two young officers, and taking them each by an arm he led them about the room, introducing them to many, of the company.  Finally, leaving them to the tender mercies of Miss Crenshawe and Miss Peggy Gary, he returned once more to look after the rest of Monsieur de Lafayette’s escort.