“Yet, I have just read a proclamation of the French Assembly, calling on the people of France ’to annihilate at once, the white, clay-footed colossus of English power and diplomacy.’  Anything else?”

“Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke are quarrelling as usual, and Mr. Pitt is making the excesses of France the excuse for keeping back reform in England.  It is the old story.  I did not care to read it.  The French papers tell their side of it.  They call Burke a madman, and Pitt a monster, and the Moniteur accuses them of having misrepresented the great French nation, and says, ’they will soon be laid prostrate before the statue of Liberty, from which they shall only rise to mount the scaffold, etc., etc.’”

“What bombastic nonsense!”

“Minister Morris is in the midst of horrors unmentionable.  The other foreign ministers have left France, and the French government is deserted by all the world; yet Mr. Morris remains at his post, though he was lately arrested in the street, and his house searched by armed men.”

“But this is an insult to the American nation!  Why does he endure it?  He ought to return home.”

“Because he will not abandon his duty in the hour of peril and difficulty.  Neither has the President given him permission to do so.  How could he desert American citizens unlawfully imprisoned, American vessels unlawfully seized by French privateers, and American captains detained in French ports on all kinds of pretences.  I think Minister Morris is precisely where he should be, saving the lives of American citizens; many of whom are trembling to-day in the shadow of the guillotine.”

“It is to be hoped that Jefferson is now convinced of the execrable nature of these brutal revolutionists.”

“I can assure you, sir, he is not.  He still excuses all their abominations and says Minister Morris is a high-flying monarchy man, and not to be taken without great allowance.  I hear that Madame Kippon’s daughter, whom Mr. Morris rescued at the last hour, has arrived in New York; and yesterday I met Mr. Van Ariens, who is exceedingly anxious concerning his daughter, the Marquise de Tounnerre.”  “Is she in danger?  I thought her husband was a leader in the new National Assembly.”

“He is among the Girondists.  They are giving themselves airs and making fine speeches at present—­but—­”

“But what?”

“Their day will be short.”

“What of the king?”

“The royal family are all prisoners in the Temple Tower.  I do not dare to read the particulars; but not a single protest against their barbarity is made.  Frenchmen who silently saw the Abbaye, the Force, and the Carmes turned into human shambles three months ago, now hold their peace while murders no less horrible are being slowly done in the Temple.”

“They are inconceivable monsters.  Poor little Arenta!  What will she do?”

“I am not very uneasy for her; she has wit enough to save her life if put to such extremes; her father is much to be pitied; and it is incredible, though true, that the great majority of our people are still singing the Marseillaise, though every letter of it is washed in blood and tears.”