Bitterness of feeling between the Tories and Whigs was mollified in
Philadelphia by the gayety and social qualities of the French Minister.
M. de la Luzerne had rare social tact. He flattered the Tories and
dazzled the Whigs by fine dinners and balls to which all factions were
invited. The _salon_ of his residence was a favorite meeting-place.
Political feuds and family jars were settled by the benign smiles
and courtesy of the host and hostess. Times were stirring; the
checker-board of war held sway in the drawing-room; the social ills
of the body politic were cured by this representative of the French
monarch, and the Revolution prospered.
As the guests arrived, the liveried butler announced their names in
stentorian tones and Mollie Greydon and her father, Dr. Greydon,
entered when the music was starting for the cotillion. Roderick
Barclugh met Mollie as she came down the staircase, and announced to
her that she was to be his partner since her name by lot fell to him.
“May I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening, Miss
Greydon?” Barclugh asked her.
She had taken a parting glance in the mirror. Her reflected
_pompadour_, ribbons, and the lace handkerchief around her sloping
white shoulders satisfied her. Her bodice was square-cut and her head,
which was stately, poised on a well-rounded neck, added dignity to her
well-formed figure. When she appeared on the staircase and approached
Roderick Barclugh with a firm but elastic step she felt perfectly calm
and comfortably gowned.
“Certainly, Mr. Barclugh,” replied Mollie when asked to dance the
cotillion, “I shall deem it an honor.”
She took her partner’s arm and bowed to Alexander Hamilton, General
Washington’s aide. He was waiting to invite Mrs. Arnold for the
cotillion. Roderick Barclugh’s pulse beat fast with delight, when he
stepped into the ball-room, filled with America’s choicest spirits.
They swiftly passed among the couples, seated in a semicircle, waiting
for the leader to start the dancing; then they sat down, and he began
to talk to his beautiful partner.
Anne Milling, herself a belle, ran over to Mollie and whispered,
“You are fortunate in your lot for a partner. He is simply grand.”
Comte de Noailles was the leader of the cotillion, and his selection of
figures and favors was both bold and unique. His art had been learned
at the French Court, and the Colonists went into ecstacies over his
innovations.
Both Mollie and Mrs. Arnold were dancing in the first figure which was
a complicated affair requiring eight couples. Mrs. Arnold was standing
with her partner, Colonel Hamilton, watching the others when she said:
“Just look at those eyes of Mr. Barclugh,”--and she gave her head a
saucy toss,--“he is simply devouring that young Quakeress.”
“But you know, my dear Madam,” said the Colonel, “Miss Greydon has
had a beautiful life at Dorminghurst. She has cultivated the classics
and is gifted as a linguist. Those accomplishments along with her
personal charms are reflected in every movement of her form, which is
beautiful.”
“Now, Colonel, I am surprised to have you express yourself so
enthusiastically over that young prodigy. She is too ordinary for
me. She makes a companion of a young Indian maiden who lives on her
father’s estate. I believe her name is _Segwuna_ and she has much
influence over Mollie. She also has ideas about the rights of the
people. So there! What can you expect? She knits for the soldiers, and
attends the dairy at Dorminghurst for her mother!”
“Now! Now! Madam Arnold, you do not feel ungrateful--” Hamilton began.
“For my life, I can not see what Mr. Barclugh can see in a girl of her
tastes!” interrupted the General’s wife.
“But,” argued the Colonel, “Mr. Barclugh has seen the jaded life of
rouge and power and _effete ennui_ in Paris and this young, beautiful
and surprising belle of our Colonies appeals to him.”
“Oh, Colonel, you must be in love yourself,” said Mrs. Arnold archly;
“men are such untutored creatures.” She laughed heartily.
“_Salut de la Court!_” called Comte de Noailles, the leader.
The dancers began the merry round which wound up with Mrs. Arnold being
in the _promenade_ with Roderick Barclugh, and Colonel Hamilton with
Mollie Greydon.
“You have a fine partner, Miss Greydon,” remarked Hamilton.
“Really, do you think so?” asked Mollie.
“All the ladies are in ecstacies over him. It is a new face and a title
that attract.”
“You misunderstand me then,” said Mollie.
“But you are the exception that proves the rule,” enjoined the Colonel,
who was handsome in his gay uniform.
“Are men the infallible judges?” parried Mollie.
“When it comes to beauty,” replied the Colonel gayly.
The figure changed and Mollie found herself swinging in the arms of
Roderick Barclugh and out of breath she sat down with a swirl of satin
skirts that showed a dainty slipper.
Now Colonel Hamilton and Mrs. Arnold had a chance for a _tete-a-tete_
as she sat down with a heaving breast which gave effect to her low-cut
corsage of black velvet. Her white hand held a dainty fan which she
used vigorously as she said:
“I must tell you something about Roderick Barclugh. He will some day
have a title, and he is seeking his fortune in privateering. He is
engaged in this business along with FitzMaurice and Milling, and has
twenty thousand pounds sterling to his credit with them.”
“Why, how do you happen to know so much about him,” asked the Colonel.
“General Arnold told me. They have some business ventures in
privateering together. You know, we do not get enough from Congress for
our station.”
“Very true, Madam, but your lot is cast with a man of arms and he must
take the fortunes of war,” said Alexander Hamilton sternly.
“Oh, Colonel, you are so severe!” exclaimed the General’s wife as John
Milling came up and favored her with the next figure in the cotillion.
Little did Mollie and Barclugh know that they were the observed of all
observers in the ball-room. The French Minister came up to them and
shook his finger slyly at Barclugh and said: “_Une fille par excellence
de la belle France_.”
Barclugh colored slightly and rose to give the host a chance to speak
to Mollie and bowed very low. He then made his way to the side of Madam
Arnold.
“This is so sweet of you, _ma chere_, to grace our assembly with
your presence,” smilingly remarked the fat and jolly minister, while
rubbing his hands together nervously. “My compliments to your mama,”
continued the diplomat, “but look out and do not lose your heart to my
countryman, Mr. Barclugh. He is very gay, very gay.” He then passed on
to General Arnold.
“No dancing for you, _mon cher general_, eh?”
“_Certainment! Certainment!_” replied the diplomat as the General
pointed to his wounded knee, a relic of Saratoga.
Mollie now had a chance to pause for a few minutes from the gay whirl
of the dance, but she wished that she had never been allowed the
opportunity. She grew pale as she saw Roderick Barclugh talking with
Mrs. Arnold in a confidential manner. There was just one nod of her
head that spoke volumes to Mollie. Hot and cold tremors coursed through
her veins, for she could not fathom Mrs. Arnold, therefore she was a
mystery to her and Mollie did not like her.
“Is it Tuesday, then?” queried Mrs. Arnold in a voice above the music
of the dance.
“Tuesday,” nodded Barclugh in reply, just loud enough for Mollie to
hear it.
“Pardon me, Miss Mollie,” came from Barclugh as he took his seat, “I
was just making an appointment to ride out with the Commandant and his
wife next Tuesday.”
She made no reply, but looked displeased.
The intermission for refreshments ensued, and instead of going directly
to the tables where the coffee and chocolate were served, Barclugh and
Mollie continued their _tete-a-tete_.
“I missed your presence so much at Dorminghurst when we had our last
tea party, Mr. Barclugh,” said Mollie with much emphasis.
“I am flattered, Miss Greydon,” was all Barclugh could reply. His
manner was agitated.
Barclugh did not know why this mere girl should have such an influence
upon him. She was a surprise to his soul. Used to the artificial
manners of the French Court he could not believe his own eyes when he
beheld such grace of person, stately courtesy and dignity in any living
being as the one before him.
“But, you know, I do not give flattery,” flashed from the pretty lips.
“Maybe, if I stayed away from your tea party you would not care for
that?” queried Barclugh with intensity in his voice.
“Ah, but you know that I said ‘I missed you,’” answered Mollie with a
merry glance over the top of her fan.
At this juncture the Comte de Noailles happened along and urged on the
dancers:
“Here! Here! We need you. Get your partners for the country reel.”
Barclugh and Mollie stopped their confidences and laughed heartily at
each other as they hurried to the refreshment table and returned with
glee for the reel.
The Comte danced with Anne Milling and led the couples out into the
middle of the floor. Eight couples faced each other and the reel began.
“First couple forward and back!”
“Second couple the same!”
The young now had their chance and the dowagers and the old macaronis
filled up the ball-room and looked on with zest and zeal.
Mrs. Arnold while dancing with her partner, Colonel Hamilton, could
not keep her eyes from Roderick Barclugh and Mollie. She was simply
desperate to think that her sister, Bessie, did not have Barclugh for
her evening’s partner. She watched the expression on Barclugh’s face
as he bowed and swung in the changes of the dance, and she was so
preoccupied that when the Comte called:
“First couple up and down the center!”--she did not recognize her
partner’s bow until in self-defense Colonel Hamilton said:
“Pardon me, Madam!”
Startled with her inattention she blushed guiltily and took the
proffered hand of Colonel Hamilton and promenaded up and down between
the lines to the rhythm of the violins and the clapping of hands.
As the turn for Mollie and Barclugh came, it was noticeable to all
how Barclugh beamed with pride as he led Mollie, with her hand raised
high, and in dainty step passed between the merry dancers. He bowed
deferentially as they turned to retrace their steps. Mollie looked all
aglow as she stood _vis-a-vis_ to Barclugh. There was intoxication in
her manner, her face was illumined with success, but no one recognized
this triumph of Mollie Greydon with such envy as Mrs. Arnold. She could
not bear to think Barclugh was lost from _her_ influence.
The reel concluded with the Comte bowing and courtesying to the
onlookers as they applauded. He gave the call for the last figure:
“All join hands forward and back!”
“Salute!”
“Swing!”
Barclugh swung his partner with an abandon that Mollie could not
resist, and then escorted her to Dr. Greydon.
When Mollie had seated herself he finished the evening’s pleasure by
saying to her:
“The dance is the language of love.”