within.  Opposite this popular resort was the Theatre de Seraphim, famed for its “ombres chinoises,” and liberally patronized by the frequenters of the Palais Royal.  A little farther along under the arcades was the stall where Mademoiselle la Pierre, the Prussian giantess, could be seen for a silver piece.  Next to this place of amusement was a small salon containing a mechanical billiard-table, over which a billiard-ball, when adroitly struck, would roll, touching the door of a little gilded chateau and causing the images of celebrated personages to appear at each of the windows, to the huge delight of the easily amused crowds.

Cold as the afternoon was, the press of people was tremendous, and besides the numbers bent on amusement, throngs of men stood about under the wind-swept arcades, talking excitedly, some with frightened, furtive face and air, others boldly and recklessly.

As they passed along, Calvert noted with surprise that Beaufort seemed to have but few acquaintances among the crowds of gesticulating, excited men, and that the look of disquiet upon his face was intensifying each moment.  When they reached the Cafe de l’Ecole, the storm burst.

“’Tis an infernal shame,” he said, angrily, sinking into a chair at a small table, and pointing Calvert to the one opposite him, “’tis an infernal shame that this pleasure palace should be made the hotbed of political intrigue; that these brawling, demented demagogues should be allowed to rant and rave here to an excited mob; that these disloyal, seditious pamphlets should be distributed and read and discussed beneath the windows of the King’s own cousin!  The King must be mad to permit this folly, which increases daily.  Where will it end?” He looked at Calvert and clapped his hands together.  A waiter came running up.

“What will you have, Calvert?—­some of the best cognac and coffee?” he asked.  “There is no better to be found in all France than here.”

“’Twill suit me excellently,” said Calvert, absently, thinking more of what Beaufort had told him of the tendencies of the times than of the coffee and cognac of the Cafe de l’Ecole.  As he spoke, the man, who had stood by passively awaiting his orders, suddenly started and looked at the young American attentively.

“But—­pardon, Messieurs,” he stammered, “is it possible that I see Monsieur Calvert at Paris?” Beaufort looked up in astonishment at the servant who had so far forgotten himself as to address two gentlemen without permission, and Calvert, turning to the man and studying his face for an instant, suddenly seized him by the hand cordially, and exclaimed, “My good Bertrand, is it indeed you?”

“Ah!  Monsieur—­what happiness!  I had never thought to see Monsieur again!”

“Then you were destined to be greatly mistaken, Bertrand,” returned Calvert, laughing, “for you are likely to see me often.  I am to be here in Paris for an indefinite length of time, and as Monsieur de Beaufort tells me that the Cafe de l’Ecole surpasses all others, I shall be here very frequently.”