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have laughed,” went on Mr. Hodge, continuing the story of his trip to Paris, “to have heard the good doctor describe his arrival in Paris. As yet he has not been received openly at court, but that will all come in due time. Nevertheless, the number of fine names and titles and high personages whom he has met would make quite a bill of lading. You see Lord Stormont, the English ambassador, has his suspicions. He would be a dolt if he hadn’t. And the Count de Vergennes, the king’s Prime Minister, has his also, but the latter’s are the harder to guess. I don’t exactly understand the Frenchman,” continued Mr. Hodge. “He’s a bit too deep for me, and whether or not he is blowing hot and cold to save time, or whether he is really anxious in the end to be of service to us, is more than I can answer for. My own idea of it is that he has but one idea in his head, and that is France, and that he would see our country swamped and ruined if he could further France’s interest in the slightest degree. He realizes, no doubt, that in England’s troubles and difficulties lie France’s opportunities, and that the more she is weakened and distressed, the easier it will be for France when the war comes; for, mark my words, the temper of the French people can not long be restrained, and sooner or later England and this country will be at each other’s throats. But, nevertheless, gentlemen, it is well worth our time to keep a wary eye on M. le Comte de Vergennes, and mind his doings carefully. But I have digressed. I was speaking of Franklin – he told me that Lord Stormont had objected to his coming to Paris at all, and said that ‘if this arch-rebel reaches the city I will away home with me, bag and baggage.’ ‘All right,’ says de Vergennes, ‘anything to please your excellency! We will despatch a messenger to stop him.’ And so a messenger was sent to meet the diligence by which ‘Goodman Richard’ was coming into Paris, but the messenger took the wrong road and never met the doctor, and the first thing you know Lord Stormont hears that the ‘arch-traitor’ has arrived. ‘Heavens, mercy me!’ exclaims de Vergennes, when his lordship calls upon him. ‘How could it have happened? I will speak strongly to this fool of a messenger. I will admonish him.’ ‘But what are you going to do about it?’ insists Lord Stormont. ‘What can we do?’ returns Monsieur le Comte. ‘You can not expect us to be uncivil! Surely it is no one but an old gentleman who flies kites and writes almanacs, and we Frenchmen have a reputation for politeness to sustain. We can not ask him to leave without ceremony. It is not our way.’ So there he is,” continued Mr. Hodge, “hob-nobbing with lords and ladies and what not, and thinking great things in that great head of his; making arrangements with Beaumarchais, who is our friend with good interest now. Oh, such a man!” Mr. Hodge interrupted his long speech by throwing back his head and laughing heartily.

      “Beaumarchais? Beaumarchais? I’ve heard the name,” interrupted Conyngham. “But who is he?”

      “The most interesting and fantastic of creatures,” replied Mr. Hodge. “A man whose career sounds like the invention of the romancer. His real name is Caron, and he is but the son of a watchmaker, whose timepieces are celebrated. I believe that he himself was brought up to follow his father’s trade, but playing the harp attracted him more than adjusting springs and balance-wheels, and he became an instructor and harpist at the court. Being a man of parts besides of harps, and a natural born courtier, he soon made his way and became one of the petted favorites despite his lowly birth. A consummate Jack of all trades. He is the author of plays, two of which I have had the pleasure of seeing – ‘The Barber of Seville’ and ‘The Marriage of Figaro.’ The king and the queen trust him implicitly, and he has the ear of most of the noblemen, though some of them dislike him and fear his sharp wits.”

      “I met him once,” interrupted Mr. Allan, “at Nantes – a quietly dressed, smooth-spoken, business-like fellow.”

      “Then you don’t know him at court,” laughed Mr. Hodge, “for there he is an exquisite, and can flutter his laces and make his bow with the best of them. He has a hundred sides, and can change color like a chameleon.”

      “He is a good friend of America and a hater of England,” remarked the elder Ross. “If he had his way, Lord Stormont would be packed off to London, bag and baggage, and there would be no more of this dissembling. He knows the temper of the people, and has his finger on the national pulse.”

      “I wish that he had his fingers in the national purse,” laughed his brother, “for the good doctor is not overburdened with money.”

      The entrance of the landlord here interrupted the conversation, but as soon as he disappeared Mr. Hodge, who had been doing a great deal of thinking, and had paid little attention to the steaming ragoût, followed him to the door and closed it firmly. Then, coming back to the table, he leaned over his chair and in a low but eager voice addressed the company.

      “We’re all Americans here,” he said, “and Captain Conyngham’s recital of his own mission and adventures proves his discretion, and so, gentlemen – a secret.” He paused and his eyes swept around the table. “The money will be forthcoming, and if I make no mistake there will be plenty of it.”

      “Surely the Count de Vergennes, and Necker while he has charge of the purse-strings, will disgorge little,” said Mr. Allan dubiously.

      “The Prime Minister is a deep one,” replied Mr. Hodge. “It pays to keep both eyes on him. He would use America as a cat’s-paw, I have no doubt; but nevertheless he sees in the success of our cause the way to stab England deeply. Beaumarchais, with the help of the rest, will prove a match for him.”

      “But you are digressing,” remarked the younger Ross, who had spoken little up to this time. “How are we to get the arms and munitions?”

      “We shall see,” answered Hodge, smiling wisely. “The French Government doesn’t wish to commit itself at present, and as a nation will offer us no direct or open aid, but there is nothing to prevent a private company or corporation from advancing money on its own responsibility, if it assumes the risk, and there lies the secret, to which you gentlemen, I know, will consider yourselves pledged from this minute. Have you heard of Hortalez et Cie. of Paris? It is a new name, and one as yet unknown in commercial circles, but mark me, some day history will record it, and we Americans shall have good cause not to forget it.”

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