And now he, for whom they wait, is announced--Captain Paul Jones. He has about him everything of the _salon_ and nothing of the sea. His amiable yet polished good breeding wins on Mrs. Adams, and even the repellant wintry Mr. Adams is rendered urbane. Captain Paul Jones becomes the instant centre of the little assemblage. And yet, even while he gives his words to the others, his glances rove softly to the girl-Duchess, who stands apart, as might one who for a space--only for a space--permits room to others. The girl-Duchess is polite; she grants him what time is required to offer his greetings all around. Then, in the most open, obvious way, as though none might criticise or gainsay her conduct, she draws him into a secluded corner. They make a rare study, these two; he deferential yet dominant, she proud but yielding. “Did you see the king?” he asks. “See him? Am I not, too, a Bourbon?” This comes off with fire. “Surely! Of course you saw him!” responds Captain Paul Jones, recalling his manner to one of easy matter-of-fact. “Your royal highness will pardon my inquiry.” The girl-Duchess objects petulantly to the “Royal Highness.” “From you I do not like it,” she says. “From you”--and here comes a flood of softness, while her black eyes shine like strange jewels--“from you, as you know, my friend, I would have only those titles that, arm-encircled, heart to heart, a man gives to the one woman of his sou’s hope.” Her voice sinks at the close, while her eyes leave his for the floor. His presence is like a gale, and she bends before him as the willow bends before the strong wind. Meanwhile, as instructive to Mr. Adams, the loud Doctor is saying: “No, sir; you must have a wig. No one sees the king without a wig.” “We talked an hour--the king and I,” goes on the girl-Duchess, recovering herself. “I read him your letter; he was vastly interested. Then I told him how the _Ranger_ had been called to America. Also I drew him pictures of what you had done; and how bravely you had fought, not only your enemies, but his enemies and the enemies of France. And, oh!”--here again the black eyes take on that perilous softness--“I can be eloquent when I talk of you!” Captain Paul Jones looks tender things, as though he also might be eloquent, let him but pick subject and audience. Altogether there is much to support the gossip-loving Madame Houdetot, in what she has said concerning that summer house at Brest. The voice of the good Doctor again takes precedence. “Until then, it had been an axiom of naval Europe that no one on even terms, guns and men and ship, could whip the British on the ocean.” The Doctor and Mr. Adams are discussing the _Ranger_ and the Drake, a topic that has been rocking France.