“Monsieur,” said the Queen to her husband, “will you allow me to present to you Monsieur Burnham, an American naval officer?” I bowed low before the King. France was our ally and we hoped much from her, and although we in America had cut kings and queens out of our books, I felt it necessary for me to be politic. “Dr. Franklin, you are always welcome,” continued the Queen, “even though you do come garbed in sober gray to our gay Court.” “Your Majesty,” returned the old Quaker gallantly, “I wear gray that it may contrast the better with the high color of my admiration for the Queen of France.” “And this is our old friend, the Commodore. We are glad to have you back at Versailles after your splendid fighting, Monsieur,” said the Queen, dimpling with pleasure at Dr. Franklin’s compliment and giving her hand to Paul Jones, who had waited with ill-concealed impatience for this recognition of his rank and station. “To see you again, Your Majesty,” began the doughty little Captain, with a shade too much fervor, I thought, “is better fortune than to capture a ship like the _Serapis_.” “You must tell me about that action, Monsieur.” “I shall be pleased to attend upon Your Majesty at any time for that or any other purpose,” he replied. “And if it were necessary to secure entrance to your levee, _I_ would cheerfully engage to capture another British frigate.” The Queen laughed kindly at the little Captain, and then she stared toward Bucknall, who stood shifting from one foot to another, twisting his hat in his hand. She was a good-hearted woman and would fain neglect no one—not even the humblest. “And who is this?” she asked. “Madame, give me leave,” I interposed. “He is a sailor to whom I owe life, liberty and—love!” “Looks he not like a cupid’s messenger?” queried Her Majesty, smiling, and then the King broke in. “Have you sent for the prisoner, Madame?” “Your Majesty, he is here?” “What, this gentleman?” The Queen bowed. “What have you to say for yourself, sir?” the King asked me. “Much, Your Majesty. I am an American naval officer, as Commodore Paul Jones can bear witness.” “’Tis true, Your Majesty. He sailed with me on the _Alfred_, and a better officer I did not have, and I say it who have a right to testify.” “Good,” said the King. “Proceed, Monsieur.” “I was captured with Captain Cunningham in the _Revenge_.” “Give me a fleet, Your Majesty,” interrupted Commodore Jones, “and we’ll stop all that.” The King smiled and nodded to me. “I escaped from a British prison-ship, robbed a gentleman in England, got money from him, came to France hoping to find Dr. Franklin or Commodore Jones. Neither was in Paris. I lost my money, fell into the hands of an enemy, and was lodged in jail, whence I have been this morning brought here by Her Majesty’s gracious interference.”