“That is the truth.  I had forgotten.  Well, then, I went to her with the news; and she rubbed her chin, and called to her man Govert, to get a bow of crape and put it on the front door.  ’It is moral, and proper, and respectable, Arenta,’ she said, ‘and I advise you to do the same.’  But then she laughed and added, ’Shall I tell you, niece, what I think of the great men I have met?  They are disagreeable, conceited creatures; and ought, all of them, to have died before they were born; and for my part, I am satisfied not to have had the fate to marry one of them.  As for Benjamin Franklin,’ she continued, ’he was a particularly great man, and I am particularly grateful that I never saw him but once.  I formed my opinion of him then; for I only need to see a person once, to form an opinion—­and he is dead!  Well, then, every one dies at their own time.’”

“My father says Congress goes into mourning for him.”

“Does it?” asked Arenta, with indifference.  “Aunt was beginning to tell me something about him when he was in France, but I just put a stop to talk like that, and said, ‘Now, aunt, for a little of my own affairs.’  So I told her about George Berckel, and asked her if she thought I might marry George; and she answered, ’If you are tired of easy days, Arenta, go, and take a husband,’ After a while I spoke to her about Lieutenant Hyde, and she said, ’she had seen the little cockrel strutting about Pearl Street.’”

“That was not a proper thing to say.  Lieutenant Hyde carries himself in the most distinguished manner.”

“Well, then, that is exactly so; but Aunt Angelica has her own way of saying things.  She intended nothing unkind or disrespectful.  She told me that she had frequently danced with his father when she was a girl and a beauty; and she added with a laugh, ’I can assure you, Arenta, that in those days he was no saint; although he is now, I hear, the very pink of propriety.’”

“Is not that as it should be, Arenta?  We ought surely to grow better as we grow older.”

“That is not to be denied, Cornelia.  Now I can tell you something worth hearing about General Hyde.”

“If it is anything wrong, or unkind, I will not listen to it, Arenta.  Have you forgotten that the good Sisters always forbid us to listen to an evil report?”

“Then one must shut one’s ears if one lives in New York.  But, indeed, it is nothing wrong—­only something romantic and delightful, and quite as good as a story book.  Shall I tell you?”

“As you wish.”

“As you wish.”

“Then I would like to hear it.”

“Listen!  When Madame Hyde was Katherine Van Heemskirk, and younger than you are, she had two lovers; one, Captain Dick Hyde, and the other a young man called Neil Semple; and they fought a duel about her, and nearly cut each other to pieces.”

“Arenta!”