WINSTON SPENCER GHURGHILL 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 6005.H954S2 
 
 Savrola; a tale of the revolution in Laur 
 
 3 1924 013 596 170 
 
ii 
 
 Cornell University 
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 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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SAVROLA 
 
SAVROLA 
 
 A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION IN 
 LAURANIA 
 
 BY 
 
 WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE RIVER WAR: AN ACCOUNT OF THE RECOVERY 
 
 OF THE SOUDAN" AND "THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND 
 
 FIELD FORCE" 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
 LONDON AND BOMBAY 
 
 1900 
 
COPYSIGHT, iSgg, BY 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 6 
 
 TTPOOBAFHT BY J. S. OtTSBlNS A CO., NORWOOD, MASS. 
 
THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED 
 
 TO 
 
 THE OFFICERS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 IVth (QUEEN'S OWN) HUSSARS 
 
 IN WHOSE COMPANY THE AUTHOR LIVED 
 
 FOR FOUR HAPPY YEARS 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 This story was written in 1897, and has 
 already appeared in serial form in Macmilr 
 lans Magazine. Since its first reception 
 was not unfriendly, I resolved to publish 
 it as a book, and I now submit it with 
 considerable trepidation to the judgment or 
 clemency of the public. 
 
 WINSTON S. CHURCHILL. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FAGB 
 
 I. 
 
 An Event of Political Importance . . . i 
 
 II. 
 
 Tlie Head of the State . 
 
 
 
 IS 
 
 III. 
 
 The Man of the Multitude 
 
 
 
 
 31 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Deputation 
 
 
 
 
 48 
 
 V. 
 
 A Private Conversation . 
 
 
 
 
 64 
 
 VI. 
 
 On Constitutional Grounds 
 
 
 
 
 78 
 
 VII. 
 
 The State Ball 
 
 
 
 
 92 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " In the Starlight " 
 
 
 
 
 112 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Admiral . 
 
 
 
 
 128 
 
 X. 
 
 The Wand of the Magician 
 
 
 
 
 142 
 
 XI. 
 
 In the Watches of the Night 
 
 
 
 
 1 59 
 
 XII. 
 
 A Council of War . 
 
 
 
 
 173 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Action of the Executive 
 
 
 
 
 185 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Loyalty of the Army 
 
 
 
 
 204 
 
 XV. 
 
 Surprises 
 
 
 
 
 218 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The Progress of the Revolt 
 
 
 
 
 234 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Defence of the Palace 
 
 
 
 
 249 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 From a Window . 
 
 
 
 
 272 
 
 XIX. 
 
 An Educational Experience 
 
 
 
 
 289 
 
 XX. 
 
 The End of the Quarrel 
 
 
 
 
 304 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The Return of the Fleet 
 
 
 
 
 316 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Life's Compensations 
 
 
 
 
 332 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 There had been a heavy shower of rain, 
 but the sun was already shining through the 
 breaks in the clouds and throwing swiftly 
 changing shadows on the streets, the houses, 
 and the gardens of the city of Laurania. 
 Everything shone wetly in the sunlight : the 
 dust had been laid; the air was cool; the 
 trees looked green and grateful. It was 
 the first rain after the summer heats, and 
 it marked the beginning of that delightful 
 autumn climate which has made the Lau- 
 ranian capital the home of the artist, the 
 invalid, and the sybarite. 
 
 The shower had been heavy, but it had 
 not dispersed the crowds that were gathered 
 in the great square in front of the Parliament 
 House. It was welcome, but it had not 
 altered their anxious and angry looks ; it had 
 
2 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 drenched them without cooling their excite- 
 ment. Evidently an event of consequence 
 was taking place. The fine building, where 
 the representatives of the people were wont 
 to meet, wore an aspect of sombre impor- 
 tance that the trophies and statues, with 
 which an ancient and an art-loving people 
 had decorated its fa9ade, did not dispel. A 
 squadron of Lancers of the Republican 
 Guard was drawn up at the foot of the great 
 steps, and a considerable body of infantry 
 kept a broad space clear in front of the 
 entrance. Behind the soldiers the people 
 filled in the rest of the picture. They 
 swarmed in the square and the streets lead- 
 ing to it; they had scrambled on to the 
 numerous monuments, which the taste and 
 pride of the Republic had raised to the 
 memory of her ancient heroes, covering them 
 so completely that they looked like mounds 
 of human beings; even the trees contained 
 their occupants, while the windows and often 
 the roofs, of the houses and offices which 
 overlooked the scene were crowded with 
 spectators. It was a great multitude and it 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 3 
 
 vibrated with excitement. Wild passions 
 surged across the throng, as squalls sweep 
 across a stormy sea. Here and there a man, 
 mounting above his fellows, would harangue 
 those whom his voice could reach, and a 
 cheer or a shout was caught up by thousands 
 who had never heard the words but were 
 searching for something to give expression 
 to their feelings. 
 
 It was a great day in the history of 
 Laurania. For five long years since the 
 Civil War the people had endured the insult 
 of autocratic rule. The fact that the Gov- 
 ernment was strong, and the memory of the 
 disorders of the past, had operated powerfully 
 on the minds of the more sober citizens. 
 But from the first there had been murmurs. 
 There were many who had borne arms on 
 the losing side in the long struggle that had 
 ended in the victory of President Antonio 
 Molara. Some had suffered wounds or con- 
 fiscation; others had undergone imprison- 
 ment; many had lost friends and relations, 
 who with their latest breath had enjoined 
 the uncompromising prosecution of the war. 
 
4 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 The Government had started with implaca- 
 ble enemies, and their rule had been harsh 
 and tyrannical. The ancient constitution to 
 which the citizens were so strongly attached 
 and of which they were so proud, had been 
 subverted. The President, alleging the prev- 
 alence of sedition, had declined to invite 
 the people to send their representatives to 
 that chamber which had for many centuries 
 been regarded as the surest bulwark of popu- 
 lar liberties. Thus the discontents increased 
 day by day and year by year : the National 
 party, which had at first consisted only of a 
 few survivors of the beaten side, had swelled 
 into the most numerous and powerful faction 
 in the State ; and at last they had found 
 a leader. The agitation proceeded on all 
 sides. The large and turbulent population 
 of the capital were thoroughly devoted to the 
 rising cause. Demonstration had followed 
 demonstration; riot had succeeded riot; 
 even the army showed signs of unrest. At 
 length the President had decided to make 
 concessions. It was announced that on the 
 first of September the electoral writs should 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 5 
 
 be issued and the people should be accorded 
 an opportunity of expressing their wishes 
 and opinions. 
 
 This pledge had contented the more 
 peaceable citizens. The extremists, finding 
 themselves in a minority, had altered their 
 tone. The Government, taking advantage 
 of the favourable moment, had arrested sev- 
 eral of the more violent leaders. Others, 
 who had fought in the war and had returned 
 from exile to take part in the revolt, fled for 
 their lives across the border. A rigorous 
 search for arms had resulted in important 
 captures.' European nations, watching with 
 interested and anxious eyes the political 
 barometer, were convinced that the Govern- 
 ment cause was in the ascendant. But 
 meanwhile the people waited, silent and ex- 
 pectant, for the fulfilment of the promise. 
 
 At length the day had come. The neces- 
 sary preparations for summoning the seventy 
 thousand male electors to record their votes 
 had been carried out by the public officials. 
 The President, as the custom prescribed, 
 was in person to sign the necessary writ of 
 
6 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 summons to the faithful citizens. Warrants 
 for election would be forwarded to the vari- 
 ous electoral divisions in the city and the 
 provinces, and those who were by the ancient 
 law entitled to the franchise would give their 
 verdict on the conduct of him whom the Pop- 
 ulists in bitter hatred had called the Dictator. 
 
 It was for this moment that the crowd was 
 waiting. Though cheers from time to time 
 arose, they waited for the most part in 
 silence. Even when the President had 
 passed on his way to the Senate, they had 
 foreborne to hoot; in their eyes he was 
 virtually abdicating, and that made amends 
 for all. The time-honoured observances, the 
 long-loved rights would be restored, and 
 once more democratic government would be 
 triumphant in Laurania. 
 
 Suddenly, at the top of the steps in the 
 full view of the people, a young man ap- 
 peared, his dress disordered and his face 
 crimson with excitement. It was Moret, one 
 of the Civic Council. He was immediately 
 recognised by the populace, and a great 
 cheer arose. Many who could not see him 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 7 
 
 took up the shout, which re-echoed through 
 the square, the expression of a nation's satis- 
 faction. He gesticulated vehemently, but 
 his words, if he spoke at all, were lost in the 
 tumult. Another man, an usher, followed 
 him out hurriedly, put his hand on his 
 shoulder, appeared to speak with earnest- 
 ness, and drew him back into the shadow of 
 the entrance. The crowd still cheered. 
 
 A third figure issued from the door, an 
 old man in the robes of municipal office. 
 He walked, or rather tottered feebly down 
 the steps to a carriage, which had drawn 
 up to meet him. Again there were cheers. 
 "Godoy! Godoy! Bravo, Godoy! Cham- 
 pion of the People ! Hurrah, hurrah ! " 
 
 It was the Mayor, one of the strongest 
 and most reputable members of the party 
 of Reform. He entered his carriage and 
 drove through the open space, maintained 
 by the soldiery, into the crowd, which, still 
 cheering, gave way with respect. 
 
 The carriage was open and it was evi- 
 dent that the old man was painfully moved. 
 His face was pale, his mouth puckered into 
 
8 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 an expression of grief and anger, his whole 
 frame shaken with suppressed emotion. The 
 crowd had greeted him with applause, but, 
 quick to notice, were struck by his altered 
 appearance and woeful looks. They crowded 
 round the carriage crying : " What has hap- 
 pened ? Is all well ? Speak, Godoy, speak ! " 
 But he would have none of them, and quiv- 
 ering with agitation bade his coachman drive 
 the faster. The people gave way slowly, 
 sullenly, thoughtfully, as men who make mo- 
 mentous resolutions. Something had hap- 
 pened, untoward, unforeseen, unwelcome; 
 what this was, they were anxious to know. 
 
 And then began a period of wild rumour. 
 The President had refused to sign the writs ; 
 he had committed suicide; the troops had 
 been ordered to fire; the elections would 
 not take place, after all; Savrola had been 
 arrested, — seized in the very Senate, said 
 one, murdered added another. The noise 
 of the multitude changed into a dull dis- 
 sonant hum of rising anger. 
 
 At last the answer came. There was a 
 house, overlooking the squa,re, which was 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 9 
 
 separated from the Chamber of Representa- 
 tives only by a narrow street, and this street 
 had been kept clear for traffic by the troops. 
 On the balcony of this house the young 
 man, Moret, the Civic Councillor, now re- 
 appeared, and his coming was the signal 
 for a storm of wild, anxious cries from the 
 vast concourse. He held up his hand for 
 silence and after some moments his words 
 became audible to those nearest. " You are 
 betrayed — a cruel fraud — the hopes we 
 had cherished are dashed to the ground — 
 all has been done in vain — Cheated! 
 cheated ! cheated ! " The broken fragments 
 of his oratory reached far into the mass of 
 excited humanity, and then he shouted a 
 sentence, which was heard by thousands and 
 repeated by thousands more. " The register 
 of citizenship has been mutilated, and the 
 names of more than half the electors have 
 been erased. To your tents, oh people of 
 Laurania ! " 
 
 For an instant there was silence, and then 
 a great sob of fury, of disappointment, and 
 of resolve arose from the multitude. 
 
lO AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 At this moment the presidential carriage, 
 with its four horses, its postiHons in the 
 Republican livery, and an escort of Lancers, 
 moved forward to the foot of the steps, as 
 there emerged from the Parliament House 
 a remarkable figure. He wore the splendid 
 blue and white uniform of a general of the 
 Lauranian Army; his breast glittered with 
 medals and orders ; his keen strong features 
 were composed. He paused for a moment 
 before descending to his carriage, as if to 
 give the mob an opportunity to hiss and 
 hoot to their content, and appeared to talk 
 unconcernedly with his companion, Senor 
 Louvet, the Minister of the Interior. He 
 pointed once or twice towards the surging 
 masses, and then walked slowly down the 
 steps. Louvet had intended to accompany 
 him, but he heard the roar of the crowd and 
 remembered that he had some business to 
 attend to in the Senate that could not be 
 delayed ; the other went on alone. The sol- 
 diers presented arms. A howl of fury arose 
 from the people. A mounted officer, who sat 
 his horse unmoved, an inexorable machine, 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 1 1 
 
 turned to a subordinate with an order. Sev- 
 eral companies of foot-soldiers began defil- 
 ing from the side street on the right of the 
 Chamber, and drawing up in line in the 
 open space which was now partly invaded 
 by the mob. 
 
 The President entered his carriage which, 
 preceded by an entire troop of Lancers, 
 immediately started at a trot. So soon as 
 the carriage reached the edge of the open 
 space, a rush was made by the crowd. The 
 escort closed up ; " Fall back there ! " shouted 
 an officer, but he was unheeded. " Will you 
 move, or must we move you .'' " said a gruffer 
 voice. Yet the mob gave not an inch. The 
 danger was imminent. "Cheat! Traitor! 
 Liar ! Tyrant ! " they shouted, with many 
 other expressions too coarse to be recorded. 
 " Give us back our rights — you, who have 
 stolen them ! " 
 
 And then some one at the back of the 
 crowd fired a revolver into the air. The 
 effect was electrical. The Lancers dropped 
 their points and sprang forward. Shouts of 
 terror and fury arose on all sides. The pop- 
 
12 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 ulace fled before the cavalry; some fell on 
 the ground and were trampled to death ; 
 some were knocked down and injured by 
 the horses; a few were speared by the sol- 
 diers. It was a horrible scene. Those be- 
 hind threw stones, and some fired random 
 pistol shots. The President remained un- 
 moved. Erect and unflinching he gazed on 
 the tumult as men gaze at a race about which 
 they have not betted. His hat was knocked 
 off, and a trickle of blood down his cheek 
 showed where a stone had struck. For some 
 moments the issue seemed doubtful. The 
 crowd might storm the carriage and then, — 
 to be torn to pieces by a rabble! There 
 were other and more pleasant deaths. But 
 the discipline of the troops overcame all 
 obstacles, the bearing of the man appeared 
 to cow his enemies, and the crowd fell back, 
 still hooting and shouting. 
 
 Meanwhile the officer commanding the 
 infantry by the Parliament House had been 
 alarmed by the rushes of the mob, which 
 he could see were directed at the President's 
 carriage. He determined to create a diver- 
 
AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 1 3 
 
 sion. " We shall have to fire on them," he 
 said to the Major who was beside him. 
 
 " Excellent," replied that officer ; " it will 
 enable us to conclude those experiments in 
 penetration, which we have been trying with 
 the soft-nosed bullet. A very valuable ex- 
 periment, Sir," and then turning to the sol- 
 diers he issued several orders. " A very 
 valuable experiment," he repeated. 
 
 "Somewhat expensive," said the Colonel 
 dryly ; " and half a company will be enough. 
 Major." 
 
 There was a rattle of breech-blocks as the 
 rifles were loaded. The people immediately 
 in front of the troops struggled madly to 
 escape the impending volley. One man, a 
 man in a straw hat, kept his head. He 
 rushed forward. " For God's sake don't 
 fire ! " he cried. " Have mercy ! We will 
 disperse." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, a sharp order 
 and a loud explosion, followed by screams. 
 The man in the straw hat bent backwards 
 and fell on the ground; other figures also 
 subsided and lay still in curiously twisted 
 
14 AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE. 
 
 postures. Every one else except the soldiers 
 fled; fortunately there were many exits to 
 the square, and in a few minutes it was 
 almost deserted. The President's carriage 
 made its way through the flying crowd to 
 the gates of the palace, which were guarded 
 by more soldiers, and passed through in 
 safety. 
 
 All was now over. The spirit of the mob 
 was broken and the wide expanse of Con- 
 stitution Square was soon nearly empty. 
 Forty bodies and some expended cartridges 
 lay on the ground. Both had played their 
 part in the history of human developement 
 and passed out of the considerations of 
 living men. Nevertheless the soldiers 
 picked up the empty cases, and presently 
 some police came with carts and took the 
 other things away, and all was quiet again 
 in Laurania. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 The carriage and its escort passed the 
 ancient gateway and driving through a wide 
 courtyard drew up at the entrance of the 
 palace. The President aHghted. He fully 
 appreciated the importance of retaining the 
 good will and support of the army, and im- 
 mediately walked up to the officer who com- 
 manded the Lancers. " None of your men 
 hurt, I trust," he said. 
 
 " Nothing serious. General," replied the 
 subaltern. 
 
 " You handled your troop with great judg- 
 ment and courage. It shall be remembered. 
 But it is easy to lead brave men ; they shall 
 not be forgotten. Ah, Colonel, you are 
 quite right to come to me. I anticipated 
 some trouble with the disaffected classes, 
 so soon as it became known that we were 
 still determined to maintain law and order 
 
1 6 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 in the State." These last words were 
 spoken to a dark, bronzed man who had 
 hurriedly entered the courtyard by a side 
 gate. Colonel Sorrento, for such was the 
 newcomer's name, was the military chief of 
 the Police. Besides filling this important 
 office, he discharged the duties of War- 
 Minister to the Republic. The combination 
 enabled the civil power to be supplemented 
 by the military with great and convenient 
 promptitude, whenever it was necessary or 
 desirable to take strong measures. The 
 arrangement was well suited to the times. 
 Usually Sorrento was calm and serene. He 
 had seen many engagements and much war 
 of the type which knows no quarter, had 
 been several times wounded, and was re- 
 garded as a brave and callous man. But 
 there is something appalling in the concen- 
 trated fury of a mob, and the Colonel's 
 manner betrayed the fact that he was not 
 quite proof against it. 
 
 " Are you wounded. Sir ? " he asked, 
 catching sight of the President's face. 
 
 " It is nothing, — a stone ; but they were 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 1 7 
 
 very violent. Some one had roused them ; 
 I had hoped to get away before the news 
 was known. Who was it spoke to them } " 
 
 " Moret, the Civic Councillor, from the 
 balcony of the hotel. A very dangerous 
 man! He told them they were betrayed." 
 
 " Betrayed? What audacity! Surely such 
 language would come withih the 20th Sec- 
 tion of the Constitution: Inciting to violence 
 against the person of the Head of the State 
 by misrepresentation or otherwise^ The 
 President was well versed in those clauses 
 of the public law which were intended to 
 strengthen the hands of the Executive. 
 " Have him arrested, Sorrento. We cannot 
 allow the majesty of Government to be in- 
 sulted with impunity, — or stay, perhaps it 
 would be wiser to be magnanimous now 
 that the matter is settled. I do not want 
 a State prosecution just at present." Then 
 he added in a louder voice: "This young 
 officer, Colonel, discharged his duty with 
 great determination, — a most excellent 
 soldier. Please see that a note is made of 
 it. Promotion should always go by merit, 
 
1 8 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 not by age, for services and not for service. 
 We will not forget your behaviour, young 
 man." 
 
 He ascended the steps and entered the 
 hall of the palacie, leaving the subaltern, a 
 boy of twenty-two, flushed with pleasure 
 and excitement, to build high hopes of 
 future command and success. 
 
 " The hall was spacious and well-propor- 
 tioned. It was decorated in the purest 
 style of the Lauranian Republic, the arms 
 of which were everywhere displayed. The 
 pillars were of ancient marble and by their 
 size and colour attested the wealth and 
 magnificence of former days. The tessel- 
 lated pavement presented a pleasing pattern. 
 Elaborate mosaics on the walls depicted 
 scenes from the national history : the foun- 
 dation of the city; the peace of 1370; the 
 reception of the envoys of the Great Mogul : 
 the victory of Brota ; the death of Saldanho, 
 that austere patriot, wh.o died rather than 
 submit to a technical violation of the Con- 
 stitution. And then coming down to later 
 years, the walls showed the building of the 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 1 9 
 
 Parliament House: the naval victory of 
 Cape Cheronta, and finally the conclusion 
 of the Civil War in 1883. On either side of 
 the hall, in a deep alcove, a bronze fountain, 
 playing amid surrounding palms and ferns, 
 imparted a feeling of refreshing coolness to 
 the eye and ear. Facing the entrance was a 
 broad staircase, leading to the state rooms 
 whose doors were concealed by crimson cur- 
 tains. 
 
 A woman stood at the top of the stairs. 
 Her hands rested on the marble balustrade ; 
 her white dress contrasted with the bright- 
 coloured curtains behind her. She was very 
 beautiful, but her face wore an expression 
 of alarm and anxiety. Woman-like she 
 asked three questions at once. " What has 
 happened, Antonio? Have the people 
 risen ? Why have they been firing ? " She 
 paused timidly at the head of the stairs, as 
 if fearing to descend. 
 
 " All is well," replied the President in his 
 official manner. "Some of the disa£Fected 
 have rioted, but the Colonel here has taken 
 every precaution and order reigns once 
 
20 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 more, dearest." Then turning to Sorrento, 
 he went on : " It is possible that the disturb- 
 ances may be renewed. The troops should 
 be confined to barracks and you may give 
 them an extra day's pay to drink the health 
 of the Republic. Double the Guards and 
 you had better have the streets patrolled to- 
 night. In case anything happens, you will 
 find me here. Good-night, Colonel." He 
 "Walked up a few steps, and the War-Minis- 
 ter, bowing gravely, turned and departed. 
 
 The woman came down the stairs and 
 they met midway. He took both her hands 
 in his and smiled affectionately ; she, stand- 
 ing one step above him, bent forward and 
 kissed him. It was an amiable, though 
 formal, salutation. 
 
 " Well," he said, " we have got through 
 to-day all right, my dear; but how long it 
 can go on, I do not know ; the revolutiona- 
 ries seem to get stronger every day. It was 
 a very dangerous moment just now in the 
 square; but is over for the present." 
 
 " I have passed an anxious hour," she said, 
 and then, catching sight for the first time of 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 21 
 
 his bruised forehead, she started, " But you 
 are wounded." 
 
 " It is nothing," said the President. " They 
 threw stones ; now, we used bullets ; they are 
 better arguments." 
 
 " What happened at the Senate .? " 
 " I had expected trouble, you know. I 
 told them in my speech that, in spite of the 
 unsettled state of affairs, we had decided to 
 restore the ancient Constitution of the Re- 
 public, but that it had been necessary to 
 purge the register of the disaffected and re- 
 bellious. The Mayor took it out of the box 
 and they scrambled over each other to look 
 at the total electorates for the divisions. 
 When they saw how much they were re- 
 duced they were very angry. Godoy was 
 speechless ; he is a fool, that man. Louvet 
 told them that it must be taken as an instal- 
 ment, and that as things got more settled the 
 franchise would be extended; but they howled 
 with fury. Indeed, had it not been for the 
 ushers and for a few men of the Guard, I be- 
 lieve they would have assaulted me there and 
 then in the very Chamber itself. Moret 
 
2 2 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 shook his fist at me, — ridiculous young ass 
 — and rushed out to harangue the mob." 
 
 "And Savrola.?" 
 
 " Oh, Savrola, — he was quite calm ; he 
 laughed when he saw the register. 'It is 
 only a question of a few months,' he said ; 
 ' I wonder you think it worth while.' I told 
 him that I did not understand him, but he 
 spoke the truth for all that ; " and then, tak- 
 ing his wife's hand in his, he climbed the 
 stairs slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 But there is little rest for a public man in 
 times of civil disturbance. No sooner had 
 Molara reached the top of the stairs and 
 entered the reception-room, than a man ad- 
 vanced to meet him from a door at the far 
 end. He was small, dark, and very ugly, with 
 a face wrinkled with age and an indoor life. 
 Its pallor showed all the more by contrast 
 with his hair and short moustache, both of 
 which were of that purple blackness to which 
 Nature is unable to attain. In his hand he 
 carried a large bundle of papers, carefully dis- 
 posed into departments by his long and deli- 
 cate fingers. It was the Private Secretary. 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 23 
 
 " What is it, Miguel ? " asked the Presi- 
 dent ; " you have some papers for me ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sir; a few minutes will suffice. 
 You have had an exciting day; I rejoice it 
 has terminated successfully." 
 
 " It has not been devoid of interest," said 
 Molara, wearily. " What have you got for 
 me ? " 
 
 " Several foreign despatches. Great Brit- 
 ain has sent a note about the Sphere of In- 
 fluence to the south of the African Colony, 
 to which the Foreign Minister has drafted a 
 reply." 
 
 " Ah ! these English, — how grasping, how 
 domineering ! But we must be firm. I will 
 maintain the territories of the Republic 
 against all enemies, internal or external. 
 We cannot send armies, but, thank God, 
 we can write despatches. Is it strong 
 enough ? " 
 
 "Your Excellency need have no fears. 
 We have vindicated our rights most em- 
 phatically ; it will be a great moral victory." 
 
 " I hope we shall get material as well as 
 moral good out of it. The country is rich ; 
 
24 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 there is paying gold ; that explains the note. 
 Of course we must reply severely. What 
 else .? " 
 
 " There are some papers relating to the 
 army, commissions and promotions, Sir," 
 said Miguel, fingering one particular bundle 
 of his papers, the bundle that lay between 
 his first and second fingers. " Those sen- 
 tences for confirmation, a draft of Morgon's 
 Budget for information and opinion, and one 
 or two minor matters." 
 
 " H'm, a long business ! Very well, I 
 will come and see to it. Dearest, you know 
 how pressed I am. We shall meet to-night 
 at the dinner. Have all the Ministers ac- 
 cepted .? " 
 
 "All but Louvet, Antonio. He is de- 
 tained by business." 
 
 " Business, pooh ! He is afraid of the 
 streets at night. What a thing it is to be a 
 coward ! Thus he misses a good dinner. 
 At eight then, Lucile." And with a quick 
 and decided step he passed through the 
 small door of the private office followed by 
 the Secretary. 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 25 
 
 Madame Antonio Molara remained stand- 
 ing for a moment in the great reception- 
 room. Then she walked to the window and 
 stepped out on to the balcony. The scene 
 which stretched before her was one of sur- 
 passing beauty. The palace stood upon high 
 ground commanding a wide view of the city 
 and the harbour. The sun was low on the 
 horizon, but the walls of the houses still 
 stood out in glaring white. The red and 
 blue tiled roofs were relieved by frequent 
 gardens and squares whose green and grace- 
 ful palms soothed and gratified the eye. To 
 the north the great pile of the Senate House 
 and Parliament buildings loomed up majestic 
 and imposing. Westward lay the harbour 
 with its shipping and protecting forts. A 
 few warships floated in the roads, and many 
 white-sailed smacks dotted the waters of the 
 Mediterranean Sea, which had already begun 
 to change their blue for the more gorgeous 
 colours of sunset. 
 
 As she stood there in the clear light of 
 the autumn evening, she looked divinely 
 beautiful. She had arrived at that age of 
 
26 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 life, when to the attractions of a maiden's 
 beauty are added those of a woman's wit. 
 Her perfect features were the mirror of her 
 mind, and displayed with every emotion and 
 every mood that vivacity of expression which 
 is the greatest of woman's charms. Her tall 
 figure was instinct with grace, and the almost 
 classic dress she wore enhanced her beauty 
 and harmonised with her surroundings. 
 
 Something in her face suggested a wistful 
 aspiration. Lucile had married Antonio Mo- 
 lara nearly five years before, when he was in 
 the height and vigour of his power. Her 
 family had been among the stoutest sup- 
 porters of his cause, and her father and 
 brother had lost their lives on the battlefield 
 of Sorato. Her mother, broken down by 
 calamity and sorrow, lived only to commend 
 her daughter to the care of their most pow- 
 erful friend, the general who had saved the 
 State and would now rule it. He had ac- 
 cepted the task at first from a feeling of 
 obligation to those who had followed his star 
 so faithfully, but afterwards from other mo- 
 tives. Before a month had passed he fell in 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 27 
 
 love with the beautiful girl whom Fortune 
 had led to him. She admired his courage, 
 his energy, and his resource; the splendours 
 of the office that he filled were not without 
 their influence; he offered her wealth and 
 position, — almost a throne ; and besides he 
 was a fine figure of a man. She was twenty- 
 three when they married. For many months 
 her life had been a busy one. Receptions, 
 balls, and parties had filled the winter season 
 with the unremitting labour of entertaining. 
 Foreign princes had paid her homage, not 
 only as the loveliest woman in Europe, but 
 also as a great political figure. Her salon 
 was crowded with the most famous men 
 from every country. Statesmen, soldiers, 
 poets, and men of science had worshipped 
 at the shrine. She had mixed in matters of 
 State. Suave and courtly ambassadors had 
 thrown out delicate hints, and she had replied 
 with unofficial answers. Plenipotentiaries 
 had explained the details of treaties and pro- 
 tocols, with remarkable elaboration, for her 
 benefit. Philanthropists had argued, urged, 
 and expounded their views or whims. Every 
 
28 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 one talked to her of public business. Even 
 her maid had approached her with an appli- 
 cation for the advancement of her brother, a 
 clerk in the Post Office ; and every one had 
 admired her until admiration itself, the most 
 delicious drink that a woman tastes, became 
 insipid. 
 
 But even during the first few years there 
 had been something wanting. What it was 
 Lucile had never been able to guess. Her 
 husband was affectionate and such time as 
 he could spare from public matters was at 
 her service. Of late things had been less 
 bright. The agitation of the country, the 
 rising forces of Democracy, added to the 
 already heavy business of the Republic, had 
 taxed the President's time and energies to 
 the full. Hard lines had come into his face, 
 lines of work and anxiety, and sometimes 
 she had caught a look of awful weariness, as 
 of one who toils and yet foresees that his 
 labour will be vain. He saw her less fre- 
 quently, and in those short intervals talked 
 more and more of business and politics. 
 
 A feeling of unrest seemed to pervade the 
 
THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 29 
 
 capital. . The season, which had just begun, 
 had opened badly. Many of the great fami- 
 lies had remained in their summer residences 
 on the slopes of the mountains, though the 
 plains were already cool and green ; others 
 had kept to their own houses in the city, 
 and only the most formal entertainments at 
 the palace had been attended. As the out- 
 look became more threatening it seemed that 
 she was able to help him less. Passions were 
 being roused that blinded the eyes to beauty 
 and dulled the mind to charm. She was still 
 a queen, but her subjects were sullen and in- 
 attentive. What could she do to help him, 
 now that he was so hard pressed? The 
 thought of abdication was odious to her, as 
 to every woman. Must she remain directing 
 the ceremonies of the Court after the brill- 
 iancy had died out, while enemies were work- 
 ing night and day to overturn all that she 
 was attached to ? 
 
 " Can I do nothing, nothing ? " she mur- 
 mured. " Have I played my part ? Is the 
 best of life over? " and then, with a hot wave 
 of petulant resolve, " I will do it, — but what? " 
 
30 THE HEAD OF THE STATE. 
 
 The question remained unanswered; the 
 edge of the sun dipped beneath the horizon 
 and at the end of the military mole, from the 
 shapeless mound of earth that marked the 
 protecting battery of the harbour, sprang a 
 puff of smoke. It was the evening gun, and 
 the sound of the report, floating faintly up to 
 her, interrupted the unpleasing reflections 
 which had filled her thoughts ; but they left 
 a memory behind. She turned with a sigh 
 and re-entered the palace ; gradually the day- 
 light died away and it became night. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 Dismay and bitter anger filled the city. 
 The news of the fusilade spread fast and far, 
 and, as is usual on such occasions, its effects 
 were greatly exaggerated. But the police 
 precautions were well conceived and ably 
 carried out. Nothing like a crowd was al- 
 lowed to gather, and the constant patrolling 
 of the streets prevented the building of barri- 
 cades. The aspect of the Republican Guard 
 was moreover so formidable that, whatever 
 the citizens might feel, they found it discreet 
 to display an acquiescent, and in some cases 
 even a contented demeanour. 
 
 With the leaders of the Popular party it 
 was however different. They immediately 
 assembled at the oflficial residence of the 
 Mayor, and a furious discussion ensued. In 
 the hall of the Mayoralty an emergency meet- 
 ing was held, at which all the power of the 
 
 3« 
 
32 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 party was represented. Moret, the Civic 
 Councillor and former editor of the sup- 
 pressed Trumpet Call, was much cheered 
 as he entered the room. His speech had 
 appealed to many, and the Lauranians were 
 always ready to applaud a daring act. Be- 
 sides, every one was agitated by the recent 
 riot and was eager to do something. The 
 Labour delegates were particularly angry. 
 Working-men, assembled in constitutional 
 manner to express their grievances, had been 
 shot down by a hireling soldiery, — massa- 
 cred \^2& the word most generally used. Ven- 
 geance must be taken ; but how ? The wild- 
 est schemes were suggested. Moret, always 
 for bold counsels, was for sallying into the 
 streets and rousing the people to arms ; they 
 would burn the palace, execute the tyrant, 
 and restore the liberties of the land. Godoy, 
 old and cautious, strongly opposed the sug- 
 gestion, though indeed no particular eager- 
 ness was shown to adopt it. He advocated 
 a calm and dignified attitude of reproach and 
 censure, which would appeal to the com- 
 ity of nations and vindicate the justice of 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 33 
 
 their cause. Others took up the argument. 
 Renos, the barrister, was for what he called 
 constitutional methods. They should form 
 themselves into a Committee of Public Safety ; 
 they should appoint the proper officers of State 
 (including of course an Attorney-General), 
 and decree the deposition of the President 
 for violation of the fundamental principles 
 contained in the preamble of the Declaration 
 of National Rights. He proceeded to dilate 
 upon the legal points involved, until inter- 
 rupted by several members who were anxious 
 to offer their own remarks. 
 
 Several resolutions were passed. It was 
 agreed that the President had forfeited the 
 confidence of the citizens, and he was forth- 
 with called upon to resign his office and 
 submit himself to the Courts of Law. It 
 was also agreed that the army had deserved 
 ill of the Republic. It was resolved to pros- 
 ecute at civil law the soldiers who had fired 
 on the people, and a vote of sympathy was 
 carried in favour of the relations of the 
 killed and wounded, or martyrs as they were 
 called. 
 
34 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 This scene of impotence and futility was 
 ended by the entrance of the remarkable 
 man who had raised a party from the dust, 
 and had led them from one success to 
 another until it had seemed that the victory 
 was won. Silence fell upon the assemblage ; 
 some stood up in respect; everyone won- 
 dered what he would say. How would he 
 bear the crushing defeat that had fallen 
 upon them ? Would he despair of the 
 movement ? Would he be angry or sad or 
 cynical ? Above all, what course would he 
 propose ? 
 
 He walked to the end of the long table 
 around which the members were grouped, 
 and sat down deliberately. Then he looked 
 round the room, with a face as calm and 
 serene as ever. In that scene of confusion 
 and indecision he looked magnificent. His 
 very presence imparted a feeling of confi- 
 dence to his followers. His high and ample 
 forehead might have contained the answer 
 to every question; his determined com- 
 posure seemed equal to the utmost stroke 
 of Fate. 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 35 
 
 After a moment's pause, invited by the 
 silence, he rose. His words were studiously 
 moderate. It had been a disappointment 
 to him, he said, to find that the registers 
 had been mutilated. The ultimate success 
 was deferred, but it was only deferred. He 
 had waited before coming to the Mayoralty 
 to make a few calculations. They were 
 necessarily rough and hurried, but he 
 thought they were approximately correct. 
 The President, it was true, would have a 
 majority in the forthcoming Parliament, 
 and a substantial majority; but they would 
 win certain seats, in spite of the restricted 
 electorate; about fifty, he thought, in a 
 house of three hundred. Smaller minorities 
 than that had overthrown more powerful 
 Governments. Every day added to their 
 strength; every day increased the hatred 
 of the Dictator. Besides, there were other 
 alternatives than constitutional procedure, — 
 and at these words some set their teeth and 
 looked at each other in deep significance — 
 but for the present they must wait; and 
 they could afford to wait, for the prize was 
 
36 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 worth winning. It was the most precious 
 possession in the world, — liberty. He sat 
 down amid brighter faces and calmer minds. 
 The deliberations were resumed. It was 
 decided to relieve, out of the general funds 
 of the party, those who were in poverty 
 through the massacre of their relations ; 
 that would increase their popularity with 
 the working classes, and might win the 
 sympathy of foreign nations. A deputation 
 should wait on the President to express the 
 grief of the citizens at the mutilation of their 
 ancient register, and to beg that he would 
 restore their franchises. It should also 
 demand the punishment of the officers who 
 had fired on the people, and should acquaint 
 the President with the alarm and indigna- 
 tion of the city. Savrola, Godoy, and 
 Renos were named as the members of the 
 deputation, and the Reform Committee then 
 dispersed quietly. 
 
 Moret lingered till the end and approached 
 Savrola. He was surprised that he had not 
 been suggested as a member of the deputa- 
 tion. He knew his leader much better than 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 37 
 
 Renos, a pedantic lawyer who made few 
 friends : he had followed Savrola from the 
 beginning with blind enthusiasm and de- 
 votion ; and he now felt hurt that he should 
 be passed over like this. 
 
 " It has been a bad day for us," he said 
 tentatively; and then as Savrola did not 
 reply, he continued, " Who would have 
 thought they would have dared to trick 
 us?" 
 
 " It has been a very bad day, — for you," 
 replied Savrola thoughtfully. 
 
 " For me .'' Why, what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Have you reflected that you have forty 
 human lives to answer for? Your speech 
 was useless, — what good could it do ? Their 
 blood is on your head. The people too are 
 cowed. Much harm has been done; it is 
 your fault." 
 
 " My fault ! I was furious, — he cheated 
 us, — I thought only of revolt. I never 
 dreamed you would sit down tamely like 
 this. That devil should be killed now, at 
 once, — before more mischief happens." 
 
 " Look here, Moret : I am as young as 
 
38 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 you ; I feel as acutely ; ' I am full of en- 
 thusiasm. I, too, hate Molara more than 
 is wise or philosophic; but I contain my- 
 self, when nothing is to be gained by giv- 
 ing way. Now mark my words. Either 
 you learn to do so, or you can go your 
 ways, for I will have none of you, — politi- 
 cally, that is, — as a friend, it is different." 
 
 He sat down and began to write a letter, 
 while Moret, pale with that mortification 
 which is made up of anger and self-re- 
 proach, and quivering under his rebuke, 
 left the room in haste. 
 
 Savrola remained. There was much busi- 
 ness to do that evening; letters had to be 
 written and read, the tone of the leading- 
 articles in the Democratic Press explained, 
 and many other matters decided. The ma- 
 chinery of a great party, and still more of 
 a great conspiracy, needed careful and con- 
 stant attention. It was nine o'clock before 
 he finished. 
 
 " Well, good-night, Godoy," he said to the 
 Major ; " we shall have another busy day to- 
 morrow. We must contrive to frighten the 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE, 39 
 
 Dictator. Let me know at what time he 
 will give audience." 
 
 At the door of the Mayoralty he called a 
 hackney-coach, a conveyance which neither 
 the dulness of the social season nor the ex- 
 citement of political affairs could restrain 
 from its customary occupation. After a 
 short drive he arrived at a small though not 
 inelegant house, for he was a man of means, 
 in the most fashionable quarter of the town. 
 An old woman opened the door to his knock. 
 She looked rejoiced to see him, 
 
 " La," she said, " I have had a fearful time 
 with you away, and all this shooting and 
 noise. But the afternoons are chilly now 
 and you should have had your coat; I fear 
 you will have a cold to-morrow." 
 
 "It is all right, Bettine," he answered 
 kindly ; " I have a good chest, thanks to 
 your care; but I am very tired. Send me 
 some soup to my room ; I will not dine to- 
 night." 
 
 He went upstairs, while she bustled off to 
 get him the best dinner she could improvise. 
 The apartments he lived in were on the 
 
40 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 second storey — a bedroom, a bathroom, and 
 a study. They were small, but full of all 
 that taste and luxury could devise and affec- 
 tion and industry preserve. A broad writ- 
 ing-table occupied the place of honour. It 
 was arranged so that the light fell conven- 
 iently to the hand and head. A large bronze 
 inkstand formed the centrepiece, with a volu- 
 minous blotting-book of simple manufacture 
 spread open before it. The rest of the table 
 was occupied by papers on files. The floor, 
 in spite of the ample waste-paper basket, 
 was littered with scraps. It was the writing- 
 table of a public man. 
 
 The room was lit by electric light in porta- 
 ble shaded lamps. The walls were covered 
 with shelves, filled with well-used volumes. 
 To that Pantheon of Literature none were 
 admitted till they had been read and valued. 
 It was a various library : the philosophy of 
 Schopenhauer divided Kant from Hegel, 
 who jostled the Memoirs of St. Simon and 
 the latest French novel ; Rasselas and La 
 CuREE lay side by side; eight substantial 
 volumes of Gibbon's famous. History wer^ 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 41 
 
 not perhaps inappropriately prolonged by a 
 fine edition of the Decameron; the Origin 
 OF Species rested by the side of a black-letter 
 Bible ; The Republic maintained an equilib- 
 rium with Vanity Fair and the History of 
 European Morals. A volume of Macaulay's 
 Essays lay on the writing-table itself ; it was 
 open, and that sublime passage whereby the 
 genius of one man has immortalised the 
 genius of another was marked in pencil. 
 And history, while for the warning of 
 vehement, high, and daring natures, she notes 
 his many errors, will yet deliberately pro- 
 nounce that among the eminent m,en whose 
 bones lie near his, scarcely one has left a more 
 stainless, and none a m,ore splendid name. 
 
 A half-empty box of cigarettes stood on a 
 small table near a low leathern armchair, and 
 by its side lay a heavy army-revolver, against 
 the barrel of which the ashes of many ciga- 
 rettes had been removed. In the corner of 
 the room stood a small but exquisite Capito- 
 line Venus, the cold chastity of its colour 
 reproaching the allurements of its form. It 
 was the chamber of a philosopher, but of no 
 
42 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 frigid, academic recluse ; it was the chamber 
 of a man, a human man, who appreciated all 
 earthly pleasures, appraised them at their 
 proper worth, enjoyed, and despised them. 
 
 There were still some papers and tele- 
 grams lying unopened on the table, but 
 Savrola was tired ; they could, or at any rate 
 should wait till the morning. He dropped 
 into his chair. Yes, it had been a long day, 
 and a gloomy day. He was a young man, 
 only thirty-two, but already he felt the effects 
 of work and worry. His nervous tempera- 
 ment could not fail to be excited by the vivid 
 scenes through which he had lately passed, 
 and the repression of his emotion only heated 
 the inward fire. Was it worth it.-* The 
 struggle, the labour, the constant rush of 
 affairs, the sacrifice of so many things that 
 make life easy, or pleasant — for what? A 
 people's good ! That, he could not disguise 
 from himself, was rather the direction than 
 the cause of his efforts. Ambition was the 
 motive force, and he was powerless to resist 
 it. He could appreciate the delights of an 
 artist, a life devoted to the search for beauty. 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 43 
 
 or of sport, the keenest pleasure that leaves 
 no sting behind. To live in dreamy quiet 
 and philosophic calm in some beautiful 
 garden, far from the noise of men and with 
 every diversion that art and intellect could 
 suggest, was, he felt, a more agreeable picture. 
 And yet he knew that he could not endure 
 it. ' Vehement, high, and daring ' was his 
 cast of mind. The life he lived was the only 
 one he could ever live ; he must go on to the 
 end. The end comes often early to such 
 men, whose spirits are so wrought that they 
 know rest only in action, contentment in 
 danger, and in confusion find their only 
 peace. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the 
 entrance of the old woman with a tray. He 
 was tired, but the decencies of life had to be 
 observed ; he rose, and passed into the inner 
 room to change his clothes and make his 
 toilet. When he returned, the table was 
 laid; the soup he had asked for had been 
 expanded by the care of his house-keeper 
 into a more elaborate meal. She waited on 
 him, plying him the while with questions 
 
44 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE, 
 
 and watching his appetite with anxious 
 pleasure. She had nursed him from his 
 birth up with a devotion and care which 
 knew no break. It is a strange thing, the 
 love of these women. Perhaps it is the only 
 disinterested affection in the world. The 
 mother loves her child ; that is material 
 nature. The youth loves his sweetheart; 
 that too may be explained. The dog loves 
 his master ; he feeds him ; a man loves his 
 friend; he has stood by him perhaps at 
 doubtful moments. In all there are reasons; 
 but the love of a foster-mother for her 
 charge appears absolutely irrational. It is 
 one of the few proofs, not to be explained 
 even by the association of ideas, that the 
 nature of mankind is superior to mere utili- 
 tarianism, and that his destinies are high. 
 
 The light and frugal supper finished, the 
 old woman departed with the plates, and 
 he fell to his musings again. Several diffi- 
 cult affairs impended in the future, about 
 the conduct of which he was doubtful. He 
 dismissed them from his mind ; why should 
 he be always oppressed with matters of fact? 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 45 
 
 What of the night ? He rose, walked to 
 the window, and drawing the curtains looked 
 out. The street was very quiet, but in the 
 distance he thought he heard the tramp of a 
 patrol. All the houses were dark and sul- 
 len ; overhead the stars shone brightly ; it 
 was a perfect night to watch them. 
 
 He closed the window and taking a can- 
 dle walked to a curtained door on one side 
 of the room ; it opened on a narrow, spiral 
 stair which led to the flat roof. Most of the 
 houses in Laurania were low, and Savrola 
 when he reached the leads overlooked the 
 sleeping city. Lines of gas-lamps marked 
 the streets and squares, and brighter dots 
 indicated the positions of the shipping in 
 the harbour. But he did not long look at 
 these ; he was for the moment weary of men 
 and their works. A small glass observatory 
 stood in one corner of this aerial platform, 
 the nose of the telescope showing through 
 the aperture. He unlocked the door and 
 entered. This was a side of his life that the 
 world never saw ; he was no mathematician 
 intent on discovery or fame, but he loved to 
 
46 THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 
 
 watch the stars for the sake of their mys- 
 teries. By a few manipulations the tele- 
 scope was directed at the beautiful planet 
 of Jupiter, at this time high in the northern 
 sky. The glass was a powerful one, and the 
 great planet, surrounded by his attendant 
 moons, glowed with splendour. The clock- 
 work gear enabled him to keep it under con- 
 tinual observation as the earth rolled over 
 with the hours. Long he watched it, be- 
 coming each moment more under the power 
 of the spell that star-gazing exercises on 
 curious, inquiring humanity. 
 
 At last he rose, his mind still far away 
 from earth. Molara, Moret, the Party, the 
 exciting scenes of the day, all seemed misty 
 and unreal; another world, a world more 
 beautiful, a world of boundless possibilities, 
 enthralled his imagination. He thought of 
 the future of Jupiter, of the incomprehensible 
 periods of time that would elapse before the 
 cooling process would render life possible 
 on its surface, of the slow steady march of 
 evolution, merciless, inexorable. How far 
 would it carry them, the unborn inhabitants 
 
THE MAN OF THE MULTITUDE. 47 
 
 of an embryo world ? Perhaps only to some 
 vague distortion of the vital essence; per- 
 haps further than he could dream of. All 
 the problems would be solved, all the ob- 
 stacles overcome; life would attain perfect 
 developement. And then fancy, overleaping 
 space and time, carried the story to periods 
 still more remote. The cooling process 
 would continue; the perfect developement 
 of life would end in death ; the whole solar 
 system, the whole universe itself, would one 
 day be cold and lifeless as a burned-out 
 firework. 
 
 It was a mournful conclusion. He locked 
 up the obser\'^atory and descended the stairs, 
 hoping that his dreams would contradict his 
 thoughts. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 It was the President's custom to rise 
 early, but before doing so he invariably 
 received the newspapers and read such 
 remarks as dealt with the policy of the 
 Government or criticised its actions. This 
 morning his literature was exceptionally 
 plentiful. All the papers had leading arti- 
 cles on the restriction of the franchise and 
 the great riot which had followed its an- 
 nouncement. He first opened The Hour, 
 the organ of orthodox mediocrity, which 
 usually cautiously supported the Govern- 
 ment in consideration of occasional pieces of 
 news with which it was from time to time 
 favoured. In a column and a half of print 
 The Hour gently regretted that the Presi- 
 dent had been unable to restore the fran- 
 chises unimpaired ; it thus gratified the bulk 
 of its readers. In a second column it ex- 
 
 48 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 49 
 
 pressed its severe disapproval — {unqualified 
 condemnation was the actual term) — of the 
 disgraceful riot which had led to such de- 
 plorable consequences; it thus repaid the 
 President for sending round the text of the 
 English note, which had arrived the night 
 before, and which it printed verbatim with 
 pomp and circumstance as coming from Our 
 Special Correspondent in London. 
 
 The Courtier, the respectable morning 
 journal of the upper classes, regretted that 
 so unseemly a riot should have taken place 
 at the beginning of the season, and expressed 
 a hope that it would not in any way impair 
 the brilliancy of the State Ball which was to 
 take place on the 7th. It gave an excellent 
 account of the President's first ministerial 
 dinner, with the menu duly appended, and it 
 was concerned to notice that Senor Louvet, 
 Minister of the Interior, had been suffering 
 from an indisposition which prevented his 
 attending the function. The Diurnal 
 Gusher, a paper with an enormous circula- 
 tion, refrained from actual comments but 
 published an excellent account of the mas- 
 
50 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 sacre, to the harrowing details of which it 
 devoted much fruity sentiment and morbid 
 imagination. 
 
 These were practically the organs on 
 which the Government relied for support, 
 and the President always read them first to 
 fortify himself against the columns of abuse 
 with which the Radical, Popular, and Demo- 
 cratic Press saluted him, his Government, 
 and all his works. The worst result of an 
 habitual use of strong language is that when 
 a special occasion really does arise, there is 
 no way of marking it. The Fabian, The 
 SuNSPOT, and The Rising Tide had already 
 exhausted every epithet in their extensive 
 vocabularies on other and less important 
 incidents. Now that a severe fusilade had 
 been made upon the citizens and an ancient 
 privilege attacked, they were reduced to 
 comparative moderation as the only outlet 
 for their feelings. They had compared the 
 Head of the State so often and so vividly to 
 Nero and Iscariot, very much to the advan- 
 tage of those worthies, that it was difficult to 
 know how they could deal with him now. 
 
THE DEPUTATION, 5 1 
 
 They nevertheless managed to find a few 
 unused expressions, and made a great point 
 of the Ministerial dinner as being an 
 instance of his "brutal disregard of the 
 commonest instincts of humanity." The 
 SuNSPOT was thought by its readers to have 
 been particularly happy in alluding to the 
 ministers as, "Indulging in a foul orgie of 
 gluttony and dipping their blood-stained 
 fingers in choice dishes, while the bodies of 
 their victims lay unburied and unavenged." 
 
 Having finished his perusal the President 
 pushed the last paper off the bed and 
 frowned. He cared nothing for criticism, 
 but he knew the power of the Press and he 
 knew that it reflected as well as influenced 
 public opinion. There could be no doubt 
 that the balance was rising against him. 
 
 At breakfast he was moody and silent, and 
 Lucile tactfully refrained from irritating him 
 by the laboured commonplaces of matutinal 
 conversation. By nine o'clock he was always 
 at work and this morning he began earher 
 than usual. The Secretary was already at his 
 table busily writing when Molara entered. 
 
52 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 He rose and bowed, a formal bow, which 
 seemed an assertion of equality rather than 
 a tribute of respect. The President nodded 
 and walked to his table on which such parts 
 of correspondence as needed his personal 
 attention were neatly arranged. He sat 
 down and began to read. Occasionally he 
 uttered an exclamation of assent or disap- 
 proval, and his pencil was often employed 
 to express his decisions and opinions. From 
 time to time Miguel collected the papers he 
 had thus dealt with and carried them to the 
 inferior secretaries in the adjoining room, 
 whose duty it was to elaborate into the stately 
 pomposity of offecial language such phrases 
 as " Curt Refusal " " Certainly not " " Apply 
 to War Office" "Gushing Reply" "I do 
 not agree " " See last year's Report." 
 
 Lucile also had letters to read and write. 
 Having finished these she determined to take 
 a drive in the park. For the last few weeks, 
 since, in fact, they had returned from their 
 summer residence, she had discontinued what 
 had been in former years her usual practice ; 
 but after the scenes and riots of the day be- 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 53 
 
 fore she felt it her duty to display a courage 
 which she did not feel. It might help her 
 husband, for her beauty was such that an 
 artistic people invariably showed her respect. 
 It could at least do no harm, and besides she 
 was weary of the palace and its gardens. 
 With this intention her carriage was ordered 
 and she was about to enter it, when a young 
 man arrived at the door. He saluted her 
 gravely. 
 
 It was the boast of the citizens of the Re- 
 public of Laurania that they never brought 
 politics into private life or private life into 
 politics. How far they justified it will appear 
 later. The present situation had undoubt- 
 edly strained the principle to the full, but 
 civilities were still exchanged between politi- 
 cal antagonists. Lucile, who had known the 
 great Democrat as a frequent visitor at her 
 father's house before the Civil War, and who 
 had always kept up a formal acquaintance 
 with him, smiled and bowed in return and 
 asked whether he came to see the President. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " I have an appoint- 
 ment." 
 
54 THE DEPUTATION, 
 
 " Public matters I suppose ? " she inquired 
 with the suspicion of a smile, 
 
 " Yes," he repeated somewhat abruptly, 
 
 " How tiresome you all are," she said 
 daringly, " with your public businesses and 
 solemn looks, I hear nothing but matters 
 of State from morning till night, and now, 
 when I fly the palace for an hour's relaxation, 
 they meet me at the very door," 
 
 Savrola smiled. It was impossible to re- 
 sist her charm. The admiration he had 
 always felt for her beauty and her wit asserted 
 itself in spite of the watchful and determined 
 state of mind into which he had thrown him- 
 self as a preparation for his interview with 
 the President, He was a young man, and 
 Jupiter was not the only planet he admired, 
 " Your Excellency," he said, " must acquit 
 me of all intention." 
 
 " I do, ' she answered laughing, " and re- 
 lease you from all further punishment." 
 
 She signed to the coachman and bowing, 
 drove off. 
 
 He entered the palace and was ushered by 
 a footman resplendent in the blue and buff 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 55 
 
 liveries of the Republic, into an ante-room. 
 A young officer of the Guard, the Lieutenant 
 who had commanded the escort on the pre- 
 vious day, received him. The President 
 would be disengaged in a few minutes. The 
 other members of the deputation had not yet 
 arrived; in the meantime would he take a 
 chair ? The Lieutenant regarded him dubi- 
 ously, as one might view some strange ani- 
 mal, harmless enough to look at, but about 
 whose strength, when roused, there were ex- 
 traordinary stories. He had been brought 
 up in the most correct regimental ideas : the 
 people (by which he meant the mob) were 
 " swine " ; their leaders were the same, with 
 an adjective prefixed ; democratic institutions, 
 Parhament, and such like, were all "rot." 
 It therefore appeared that he and Savrola 
 would find few topics in common. But be- 
 sides his good looks and good manners, the 
 young soldier had other attainments; his 
 men knew him as " all right " and " all there," 
 while the Lancers of the Guard polo team 
 regarded him as a most promising player. 
 Savrola, whose business it was to know 
 
56 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 everything, inquired respecting the project 
 lately mooted by the Lauranian Cavalry of 
 sending a polo team to England to compete 
 in the great annual tournament at Hurling- 
 ham. Lieutenant Tiro (for that was his 
 name) addressed himself to the subject with 
 delight. They disputed as to who should 
 be taken as " back." The discussion was 
 only interrupted by the entrance of the 
 Mayor and Renos, and the Subaltern went 
 off to inform the President that the depu- 
 tation waited. 
 
 "I will see them at once," said Molara; 
 "show them up here." 
 
 The deputation were accordingly con- 
 ducted up the stairs to the President's pri- 
 vate room. He rose and received them with 
 courtesy. Godoy stated the grievances of 
 the citizens. He recalled the protests they 
 had made against the unconstitutional gov- 
 ernment of the last five years, and their de- 
 light at the President's promise to call the 
 Estates together. He described their bitter 
 disappointment at the restriction of the fran- 
 chise, and their keen desire that it should 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 57 
 
 be fully restored. He dilated on their in- 
 dignation at the cruelty with which the 
 soldiers had shot down unarmed men, and 
 finally declared that, as Mayor, he could not 
 vouch for their continued loyalty to the 
 President or their respect for his person. 
 Renos spoke in the same strain, dwelling 
 particularly on the legal aspect of the Presi- 
 dent's late action, and on the gravity of 
 its effects as a precedent to posterity. 
 
 Molara replied at some length. He 
 pointed out the disturbed state of the 
 country, and particularly of the capital ; he 
 alluded to the disorders of the late war 
 and the sufferings it had caused to the 
 mass of the people. What the State wanted 
 was strong stable government. As things 
 became more settled the franchise should 
 be extended until it would ultimately be 
 completely restored. In the meanwhile, 
 what was there to complain about? Law 
 and order were maintained; the public ser- 
 vice was well administered; the people en- 
 joyed peace and security. More than that, 
 a vigorous foreign policy held the honour of 
 
58 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 the country high. They should have an 
 instance. 
 
 He turned and requested Miguel to read 
 the reply to the English note on the Afri- 
 can Dispute. The Secretary stood up and 
 read the paper in question, his soft, purring 
 voice, proving well suited to emphasising 
 the insults it contained. 
 
 " And that, Gentlemen," said the Presi- 
 dent, when it was finished, "is addressed 
 to one of the greatest military and naval 
 powers in the world." 
 
 Godoy and Renos were silent. Their 
 patriotism was roused ; their pride was 
 gratified ; . but Savrola smiled provokingly. 
 " It will take more than despatches," he said, 
 " to keep the English out of the African 
 sphere, or to reconcile the people of Lau- 
 rania to your rule." 
 
 " And if stronger measures should be 
 necessary," said the President, " rest assured 
 they will be taken." 
 
 " After the events of yesterday we need no 
 such assurance." 
 
 The President ignored the taunt. " I 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 59 
 
 know the English Government," he con- 
 tinued ; " they will not appeal to arms." 
 
 " And I," said Savrola, " know the Lau- 
 ranian people. I am not so confident." 
 
 There was a long pause. Both men faced 
 each other, and their eyes met. It was the 
 look of two swordsmen who engage, and it 
 was the look of two bitter enemies ; they 
 appeared to measure distances and calculate 
 chances. Then Savrola turned away, the 
 ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips ; 
 but he had read the President's heart and 
 he felt as if he had looked into hell. 
 
 " It is a matter of opinion. Sir," said Molara 
 at last. 
 
 " It will soon be a matter of history." 
 
 " Other tales will have to be told before," 
 said the President, and then with great for- 
 mality, " I am obliged to you, Mr. Mayor 
 and Gentlemen, for representing the danger- 
 ous elements of disorder which exist among 
 certain classes of the people. You may rely 
 on every precaution being taken to prevent 
 an outbreak. I beg you will keep me further 
 informed. Good morning." 
 
6o THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 The only course open appeared to be the 
 door, and the deputation withdrew, after 
 Savrola had thanked the President for his 
 audience and had assured him that he would 
 lose no opportunity of bringing home to him 
 the hostile attitude of the citizens. On the 
 way down-stairs they were met by Lucile, 
 who had returned unexpectedly early from 
 her drive. She saw by the expression of 
 their faces that a heated discussion had 
 taken place. Godoy and Renos she passed 
 unnoticed, but she smiled merrily at Savrola, 
 as if to convey to him that she was un-^ 
 interested by politics and could not under- 
 stand how people ever managed to get 
 excited about them. The smile did not 
 deceive him ; he knew too much of her tastes 
 and talents, but he admired her all the more 
 for her acting. 
 
 He walked home. The interview had not 
 been altogether unsatisfactory. He had never 
 hoped to convince the President; that indeed 
 was hardly likely ; but they had expressed 
 the views of the people, and Godoy and 
 Renos had already sent copies of their re- 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 6 1 
 
 marks to the newspapers, so that the party 
 could not complain of their leaders' inaction 
 at such a crisis. He thought he had fright- 
 ened Molara, if indeed it were possible to 
 frighten such a man; at any rate he had 
 made him angry. When he thought of this 
 he was glad. Why ? He had always hith- 
 erto repressed such unphilosophic and futile 
 emotions so far as possible, but somehow to- 
 day he felt his dislike of the President was 
 invested with a darker tinge. And then his 
 mind reverted to Lucile. What a beautiful 
 woman she was ! How full of that instinc- 
 tive knowledge of human feelings which is 
 the source of all true wit! Molara was a 
 lucky man to have such a wife. Decidedly 
 he hated him personally, but that, of course, 
 was on account of his unconstitutional con- 
 duct. 
 
 When he reached his rooms, Moret was 
 awaiting him, much excited and evidently 
 angry. He had written several long letters 
 to his leader, acquainting him with his unal- 
 terable decision to sever all connection with 
 him and his party ; but he had torn them all 
 
62 THE DEPUTATION. 
 
 up, and was now resolved to tell him in plain 
 words. 
 
 Savrola saw his look. " Ah, Louis," he 
 cried, " I am glad you are here. How good 
 of you to come ! I have just left the Presi- 
 dent ; he is Recalcitrant ; he will not budge 
 an inch. I need your advice. What course 
 shall we adopt ? " 
 
 " What has happened ? " asked the young 
 man, sulkily but curiously. 
 
 Savrola related the interview with graphic 
 terseness. Moret listened attentively and 
 then said, still with great ill humour, " Phys- 
 ical force is the only argument he under- 
 stands. I am for raising the people." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," said Savrola reflec- 
 tively, " I am half inclined to agree with you." 
 
 Moret argued his proposition with vigour 
 and earnestness, and never had his leader 
 seemed so agreeable to the violent measures 
 he proposed. For half an hour they dis- 
 cussed the point. Savrola still appeared un- 
 convinced ; he looked at his watch. " It is 
 past two o'clock," he said. " Let us lunch 
 here and thrash the matter out." 
 
THE DEPUTATION. 63 
 
 They did so. The luncheon was excel- 
 lent, and the host's arguments became more 
 and more convincing. At last, with the 
 coffee, Moret admitted that perhaps it was 
 better to wait, and they parted with great 
 cordiality. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 " That," said the President to his confi- 
 dential secretary, so soon as the door had 
 closed on the retiring deputation, "is over, 
 but we shall have plenty more in the future. 
 Savrola will most certainly be elected for the 
 Central Division, and we shall then have the 
 pleasure of listening to him in the Senate." 
 
 " Unless," added Miguel, " anything should 
 happen." 
 
 The President, who knew his man well, 
 understood the implication. " No, it is no 
 good ; we cannot do that. Fifty years ago 
 it might have been possible. People won't 
 stand that sort of thing now-a-days ; even 
 the army might have scruples. So long as 
 he keeps within the law, I don't see how we 
 can touch him constitutionally." 
 
 " He is a great force, a great force ; some- 
 times, I think, the greatest in Laurania. 
 
 64 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 65 
 
 Every day he grows stronger. Presently 
 the end will come," said the Secretary slowly 
 and thoughtfully, who, as the partner of 
 Molara's dangers, no less than of his actions, 
 had a claim to be heard. " I think the end 
 is coming," he continued; "perhaps quite 
 soon — unless ?" he paused. 
 
 " I tell you it can't be done. Any acci- 
 dent that happened would be attributed to 
 me. It would mean a revolution here, and 
 close every asylum abroad." 
 
 "There are other ways besides force, phys- 
 ical force." 
 
 " None that I can see, and he is a strong 
 man." 
 
 " So was Samson, nevertheless the Philis- 
 tines spoiled him." 
 
 " Through a woman. I don't believe he 
 has ever been in love." 
 
 " That is no reason against the future." 
 
 "Wanted a Delilah," said the President 
 dryly. " Perhaps you will find one for him." 
 
 The Secretary's eyes wandered round the 
 room artlessly, and paused for a moment 
 on a photograph of Lucile. 
 
66 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 " How dare you, Sir ! You are a scoun- 
 drel ! You have not an ounce of virtue in 
 you!" 
 
 " We have been associated for some time, 
 General." He always called him General 
 on these occasions, it reminded the Presi- 
 dent of various little incidents which had 
 taken place when they had worked together 
 during the war. " Perhaps that is the cause." 
 
 " You are impertinent." 
 
 " My interests are concerned. I too have 
 enemies. You know very well how much 
 my life would be worth without the protec- 
 tion of the Secret Police. I only remember 
 with whom and for whom these things were 
 done." 
 
 " Perhaps I am hasty, Miguel, but there is 
 
 a limit, even between " He was going 
 
 to say friends but Miguel interposed accom- 
 plices. " Well," said Molara, " I do not care 
 what you call it. What is your proposition ? " 
 
 " The Philistines," replied Miguel, " spoiled 
 Samson, but Delilah had to cut his hair first." 
 
 "Do you mean that she should implore 
 him to hold his hand ? " 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 67 
 
 "No, I think that would be useless, but 
 if he were compromised " 
 
 " But she, she would not consent. It 
 would involve her." 
 
 "She need not necessarily know. An- 
 other object for making his acquaintance 
 might be suggested. It would come as a 
 surprise to her." 
 
 "You are a scoundrel — an infernal scoun- 
 drel," said the President quietly. 
 
 Miguel smiled, as one who receives a 
 compliment. " The matter," he said, " is too 
 serious for the ordinary rules of decency 
 and honour. Special cases demand special 
 remedies." 
 
 " She would never forgive me." 
 
 " The forgiveness would rest with you. 
 Your charity would enable you to pardon an 
 uncommitted crime. You have only to play 
 the jealous husband and own your mistake 
 later on." 
 
 " And he ? " 
 
 " Fancy the great popular leader. Patriot, 
 Democrat, what not, discovered fawning to 
 the tyrant's wife ! Why, the impropriety 
 
68 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION 
 
 alone would disgust many. And more than 
 that, — observe him begging for mercy, 
 grovelling at the President's feet, — a pretty 
 picture ! It would ruin him ; ridicule alone 
 would kill him." 
 
 " It might," said Molara. The picture 
 pleased him. 
 
 " It must. It is the only chance that I can 
 see, and it need cost you nothing. Every 
 woman is secretly flattered by the jealousy of 
 the man she loves, even if he be her husband." 
 
 " How do you know these things ? " asked 
 Molara, looking at the ugly pinched figure 
 and glistening hair of his companion. 
 
 "/ know," said Miguel with a grin of odious 
 pride. The suggestion of his appetites was 
 repulsive. The President was conscious of 
 disgust. " Mr. Secretary Miguel," he said 
 with the air of one who has made up his 
 mind, " I must request you not to speak to 
 me of this matter again. I consider it shows 
 less to the advantage of your heart than of 
 your head." 
 
 " I see by Your Excellency's manner that 
 further allusion is unnecessary." 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 69 
 
 " Have you the report of the Agricultural 
 Committee for last year? Good, — please 
 have a precis made of it ; I want some facts. 
 The country may be kept, even if we lose 
 the capital; that means a good part of the 
 army." 
 
 Thus the subject dropped. Each under- 
 stood the other, and behind lay the spur of 
 danger. 
 
 After the President had finished the morn- 
 ing's business, he rose to leave the room, but 
 before he did so he turned to Miguel and 
 said abruptly : " It would be a great conven- 
 ience for us to know what course the Oppo- 
 sition intends to pursue on the opening of 
 the Senate, would it not ? " 
 
 " Assuredly." 
 
 " How can we induce Savrola to speak ? 
 He is incorruptible." 
 
 " There is another method." 
 
 " I tell you physical force is not to be 
 thought of." 
 
 " There is another method." 
 
 " And that," said the President, "I directed 
 you not to speak of again." 
 
70 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 "Precisely," said the Secretary, and re- 
 sumed his writing. 
 
 The garden into which Molara walked 
 was one of the most beautiful and famous in 
 a country where all vegetation attained luxu- 
 riant forms. The soil was fertile, the sun 
 hot, and the rains plentiful. It displayed an 
 attractive disorder. The Lauranians were 
 no admirers of that peculiar taste which finds 
 beauty in the exact arrangement of an equal 
 number of small trees of symmetrical shape 
 in mathematical designs, or in the creation 
 of geometrical figures by means of narrow 
 paths with box-hedges. They were an un- 
 enlightened people, and their gardens dis- 
 played a singular contempt for geometry and 
 precision. Great blazes of colour arranged 
 in pleasing contrasts were the lights, and 
 cool green arbours the shades of their rural 
 pictures. Their ideal of gardening was to 
 make every plant grow as freely as if directed 
 by nature, and to as high perfection as if 
 cultivated by art. If the result was not 
 artistic, it was at least beautiful. 
 
 The President, however, cared very little 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 7 1 
 
 for flowers or their arrangement; he was, 
 he said, too busy a man to have anything 
 to do with the beauties of colour, harmony, 
 or line. Neither the tints of the rose nor 
 the smell of the jasmine awakened in him 
 more than the rudimentary physical pleas- 
 ures which are natural and involuntary. He 
 liked to have a good flower garden, because 
 it was the right thing to have, because it 
 enabled him to take people there and talk 
 to them personally on political matters, and 
 because it was convenient for afternoon re- 
 ceptions. But he himself took no interest 
 in it. The kitchen garden appealed to him 
 more; his practical soul rejoiced more in 
 an onion than an orchid. 
 
 He was full of thought after his conver- 
 sation with Miguel, and turned down the 
 shady path which led to the fountains with 
 long, hasty strides. Things were looking 
 desperate. It was, as Miguel had said, a 
 question of time, unless, — unless Savrola 
 were removed or discredited. He refrained 
 from precisely formulating the idea that had 
 taken possession of his mind. He had done 
 
72 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 many things in the rough days" of the war 
 when he was a struggling man, the memory 
 of which was not pleasant. He remem- 
 bered a brother officer, a rising man, the 
 colonel of a regiment, who had been a 
 formidable rival ; at a critical moment he 
 had withheld the supports, and left it to 
 the enemy to remove one obstacle from his 
 path. Then another tale came into his 
 mind which also was not a pretty one, a 
 tale of a destroyed treaty, and a broken 
 truce; of men, who had surrendered to 
 terms, shot against the wall of the fort 
 they had held so long. He also recalled 
 with annoyance the methods he had adopted 
 to extract information from the captured 
 spy; five years of busy life, of success and 
 fortune, had not obscured the memory of 
 the man's face as it writhed in suffering. 
 But this new idea seemed the most odious 
 of all. He was unscrupulous, but like many 
 men in history or modern life, he had tried 
 to put away a discreditable past. Hence- 
 forth, he had said when he obtained power, 
 he would abandon such methods; they 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 73 
 
 would no longer be necessary; and yet, 
 here was the need already. Besides, Lucile 
 was so beautiful; he loved her in his hard 
 way for that alone; and she was such a 
 consort, so tactful, so brilliant, that he ad- 
 mired and valued her from a purely official 
 standpoint. If she ever knew, she would 
 never forgive him. She never should know, 
 but still he hated the idea. 
 
 But what other course remained? He 
 thought of the faces of the crowd the day 
 before; of Savrola; of the stories which 
 reached him from the army; of other tales 
 of a darker and more mysterious kind, — 
 tales of strange federations and secret so- 
 cieties, which suggested murder, as well as 
 revolution. The tide was rising; it was 
 dangerous to tarry. 
 
 And then the alternative presented it- 
 self; flight, abdication, a squalid existence 
 in some foreign country, despised, insulted, 
 suspected; and exiles always lived to a 
 great age he had heard. He would not 
 think of it; he would die first; nothing 
 but death should drag him from the palace, 
 
74 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 and he would fight to the last. His mind 
 returned to the starting point of his reflec- 
 tions. Here was a chance, the one solu- 
 tion which seemed possible; it was not an 
 agreeable one, but it was that or none. He 
 had reached the end of the path and turn- 
 ing the corner saw Lucile seated by the 
 fountain. It was a beautiful picture. 
 
 She saw his preoccupied look and rose to 
 meet him. " What is the matter, Antonio ? 
 You look worried." 
 
 " Things are going wrong with us, my 
 dear. Savrola, the deputation, the news- 
 papers, and, above all, the reports I receive 
 of the people, are ominous and alarming." 
 
 " I noticed black looks this morning when 
 I drove. Do you think there is danger .? " 
 
 " I do," he answered in his precise official 
 manner, " grave danger." 
 
 " I wish I could help you," she said, " but 
 I am only a woman. What can I do?" He 
 did not answer and she continued : " Seiior 
 Savrola is a kind man. I used to know 
 him quite well before the war." 
 
 " He will ruin us." 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 75 
 
 " Surely not." 
 
 " We shall have to fly the country, if in- 
 deed they allow us to do that." 
 
 She turned paler. " But I know what 
 men look like ; there is a sympathy between 
 us ; he is no fanatic." 
 
 " There are powers behind and beneath 
 him of which he knows little, which he can- 
 not control, but which he has invoked." 
 
 " Can you do nothing ? " 
 
 " I cannot arrest him ; he is too popular, 
 and besides he has broken no law. He will 
 go on. In a fortnight are the elections; 
 he will be returned in spite of my precau- 
 tions; then the trouble will begin." He 
 paused, and then speaking as if to himself 
 continued : " If we could learn what he 
 means to do, perhaps we might defeat 
 it." 
 
 " Can I not help you ? " she asked quickly. 
 " I know him ; I think he likes me. He 
 might whisper to me what he would not tell 
 to others." She thought of many victories 
 in the past. 
 
 "My darling," said Molara, "why should 
 
76 A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 you spoil your life by mixing in the darker 
 side of politics ? I would not ask you." 
 
 " But I want to. I will try if it would help 
 you." 
 
 " It might do much more." 
 
 " Very well, I will find out for you ; in a 
 fortnight you shall know. He must come 
 to the State Ball ; I will meet him there." 
 
 " I am loth to let you talk to such a man, 
 but I know your wit, and the need is great. 
 But will he come ? " 
 
 " I will write him a note with the invita- 
 tion," she said, " laugh at politics and advise 
 him to keep his private life at least free from 
 them. I think he will come ; if not, I will 
 find some other way of seeing him." 
 
 Molara looked at her with admiration. At 
 no time did he love her more than when he 
 realised of what use she was to him. " I 
 leave it to you, then, I fear you will fail, 
 but if you can do it, you may have saved 
 the State. If not, no harm will have been 
 done." 
 
 " I shall succeed," she answered confidently, 
 and rising from her seat began to walk 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 77 
 
 towards the house. She saw from her hus- 
 band's manner that he would Hke to be 
 alone. 
 
 He remained seated there for a long time, 
 staring into the water in which the fat, lazy, 
 gold fish swam placidly. His face wore the 
 expression of one who has swallowed some 
 nasty thing. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 The sagacious founders of the Lauranian 
 Republic had recognised the importance of 
 preserving and promoting the practice of 
 social civilities between the public men of the 
 State, irrespective of party. It had therefore 
 long been the custom for the President to 
 give several ofi&cial entertainments during 
 the autumn season, to which all the distin- 
 guished characters of either side were invited, 
 and which it was considered etiquette to 
 attend. This year feeling ran so high and 
 relations were so strained that Savrola had 
 decided not to accept, and had already for- 
 mally declined the invitation ; he was there- 
 fore not a little surprised when he received a 
 second card, and still more when he read 
 Lucile's note which accompanied it. 
 
 He saw she had exposed herself to a re- 
 buff with her eyes open, and wondered why 
 
 78 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 79 
 
 she had done so. Of course she counted on 
 her charms. It is hard, if not impossible, to 
 snub a beautiful woman; they remain beau- 
 tiful and the rebuke recoils. He might in- 
 deed have made political capital out of so 
 pressing an invitation sent at such a critical 
 time ; but he felt she had judged him well, 
 and knew she was safe at least from that. 
 This pleased him. He was sorry he could 
 not go; but he had made up his mind, and 
 sat down to write and decline. Half way 
 through the letter, he paused ; the thought 
 occurred to him, that perhaps she might 
 stand in need of his help. He read the 
 letter again and fancied, though the words 
 did not warrant it, that he detected a note 
 of appeal. And then he began to look for 
 reasons for changing his mind: the old 
 established custom ; the necessity of showing 
 his followers that for the present he was in 
 favour of constitutional agitation only; the 
 opportunity of displaying his confidence in 
 the success of his plans ; in fact, every argu- 
 ment, but the true one, was arrayed against 
 his determination. 
 
8o ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 Yes, he would go : the party might object, 
 but he did not care; it was none of their 
 business, and he was strong enough to face 
 their displeasure. These reflections were 
 interrupted by the entrance of Moret, his 
 face glowing with enthusiasm. 
 . " The Central Division Committee have 
 nominated you unanimously as their candi- 
 date at the elections. The Dictator's pup- 
 pet, Tranta, was howled down. I have 
 arranged for a public meeting on Thursday 
 night for you to address. We are on the 
 crest of the wave ! " 
 
 " Capital ! " said Savrola. " I had expected 
 to be nominated ; our influence in the capi- 
 tal is supreme. I am glad of an opportu- 
 nity of speaking; I have not had a meeting 
 for some time, and there is a good deal to 
 talk about just now. What day did you 
 say you had arranged it for .? " 
 
 " Thursday in the City- Hall at eight in 
 the evening," said Moret, who, though san- 
 guine, was not unbusiness-like. 
 
 "Thursday?" 
 
 " Yes, you are not engaged anywhere." 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 8 1 
 
 " Well," said Savrola speaking slowly and 
 appearing to weigh his words, " Thursday 
 is the night of the State Ball." 
 
 " I know," said Moret, " that was why I 
 arranged it so. They will feel they are 
 dancing on a volcano; only a mile from 
 the palace will be the people, massed, 
 agreed, determined. Molara will not enjoy 
 his evening; Louvet will not go; Sorrento 
 will be making arrangements to massacre, 
 if necessary. It will spoil the festivities; 
 they will all see the writing on the wall." 
 " Thursday will not do, Moret." 
 "Not do! Why not?" 
 "Because I am going to the ball that 
 night," said Savrola deliberately. 
 
 Moret gasped. " What," he cried, " you ! " 
 " Most certainly I shall go. The ancient 
 customs of the State cannot be set aside 
 like this. It is my duty to go ; we are fight- 
 ing for the Constitution, and we are bound 
 to show our respect for its principles." 
 
 " You will accept Molara's hospitality, — 
 enter his house, — eat his food ? " 
 
 " No," said Savrola ; " I shall eat the food 
 
82 ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 provided by the State. As you well know, 
 the expenses of these ofificial functions are 
 chargeable to the public." 
 
 " You will talk to him ? " 
 
 " Certainly, but he will not enjoy it." 
 
 " You will insult him, then ? " 
 
 " My dear Moret, what should make you 
 think that ? I shall be very civil. That 
 will frighten him most of all; he will not 
 know what is impending." , 
 
 " You cannot go," said Moret decidedly. 
 
 " Indeed I am going." 
 
 " Think what the Trade-Unions will say." 
 
 " I have thought about all these things 
 and have made up my mind," said Savrola. 
 " They may say what they like. It will 
 show them that I do not intend to discard 
 Constitutional methods for a long time yet. 
 These people want their enthusiasm cool- 
 ing from time to time; they take life too 
 seriously." 
 
 " They will accuse you of betraying the 
 cause." 
 
 " I have no doubt stupid people will make 
 characteristic remarks, but I trust none of 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 83 
 
 my friends will bore me by repeating them 
 to me." 
 
 " What will Strelitz say ? It will very likely 
 make him cross the frontier with his fol- 
 lowers. He thinks we are lukewarm, and has 
 been growing more impatient every week." 
 
 " If he comes before we are ready to help, 
 the troops will make short work of him and 
 his rabble. But he has definite orders from 
 me and will, I hope, obey them." 
 
 "You are doing wrong, and you know 
 it," said Moret harshly and savagely ; " to 
 say nothing of the contemptible humilia- 
 tion of cringing to your enemy," 
 
 Savrola smiled at his follower's anger. 
 " Oh," he said, " I shall not cringe. Come, 
 you have not yet seen me do that," and he 
 put his hand on his companion's arm. " It 
 is strange, Louis," he continued, "that we 
 differ in so many things, and yet, if I were 
 in difficulty and doubt, there is no one to 
 whom I would go sooner than to you. We 
 squabble about trifles, but if it were a great 
 matter, your judgment should rule me, and 
 you know it well." 
 
84 ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 Moret yielded. He always yielded to Sav- 
 rola when he talked like that. " ^yell," he 
 said, " when will you speak ? " 
 
 " Whenever you like." 
 
 " Friday, then, the sooner the better." 
 
 " Very well ; do you make the arrange- 
 ments; I will find sornething to say." 
 
 " I wish you were not going," said Moret, 
 reverting to his former ©bjection ; " nothing 
 on earth would induce me to go." 
 
 " Moret," said Savrola with strange ear- 
 nestness, " we have settled that ; there are 
 other things to talk about. I am troubled 
 in my mind. There is an undercurrent of 
 agitation, the force of which I cannot gauge. 
 I am the acknowledged leader of the party, 
 but sometimes I realise that there are agen- 
 cies at work, which I do not control. That 
 secret society they call the League is an un- 
 known factor. I hate that fellow, that Ger- 
 man fellow, Kreutze, Number One as he 
 styles himself. He is the source of all the 
 opposition I encounter in the party itself; 
 the Labour Delegates all seem to be under 
 his influence. Indeed there are moments 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 85 
 
 when I think that you and I and Godoy and 
 all who are striving for the old Constitution, 
 are but the political waves of a social tide 
 that is flowing we know not whither. Per- 
 haps I am wrong, but I keep my eyes open 
 and their evidence makes me thoughtful. 
 The future is inscrutable but appalling ; you 
 must stand by me. When I can no longer 
 restrain and control, I will no longer lead." 
 
 "The League is nothing," said Moret, 
 " but a small anarchist group, who have 
 thrown in their lot, for the present, with us. 
 You are the indispensable leader of the party ; 
 you have created the agitation, and it is in 
 your hands to stimulate or allay it. There 
 are no unknown forces ; you are the motive 
 power." 
 
 Savrola walked to the window. " Look 
 out over the city," he said. " It is a great 
 mass of buildings; three hundred thousand 
 people live there. Consider its size; think 
 of the latent potentialities it contains, and 
 then look at this small room. Do you think 
 I am what I am, because I have changed all 
 those minds, or because I best express their 
 
86 ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 views? Am I their master or their slave? 
 Believe me, I have no illusions, nor need 
 you." 
 
 His manner impressed his follower. It 
 almost seemed to him, as he watched the city 
 and listened to Savrola's earnest words, that 
 he heard the roar of a multitude, distant, sub- 
 dued, but intense as the thunder of the surf 
 upon a rocky coast when the wind is off the 
 sea. He did not reply. His highly wrought 
 temperament exaggerated every mood and 
 passion ; he always lived in the superlative. 
 He had no counterpoise of healthy cynicism. 
 Now he was very solemn, and bidding Sav- 
 rola good-morning, walked slowly down the 
 stairs, swayed by the vibrations of a power- 
 ful imagination which had been stimulated 
 to an extreme. 
 
 Savrola lay back in his chair. His first 
 inclination was to laugh, but he realised that 
 his mirth would not be entirely at Moret's 
 expense. He had tried to trick himself as 
 well, but the parts of that subtle brain were 
 too intimately connected to have secrets from 
 one another. Still he would not allow them 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 87 
 
 to formulate the true reason of his change 
 of mind. It was not so, he said to himself 
 several times, and even if it were it was of 
 no importance and signified nothing. He 
 took a cigarette from his case, and lighting it, 
 watched the coiling rings of smoke. 
 
 How much of what he had said had he 
 
 believed? He thought of Moret's serious 
 
 face ; that was not entirely produced by his 
 
 influence. The young revolutionist had 
 
 noticed something too, but had feared, or 
 
 failed, to reduce his impressions to words. 
 
 There was an undercurrent then ; there were 
 
 many dangers ahead. Well, he did not care ; 
 
 he was confident in his own powers. As the 
 
 difficulties arose, he would meet them ; when 
 
 dangers threatened he would overcome them. 
 
 Horse, foot, and artillery, he was a man, a 
 
 complete entity. Under any circumstances, 
 
 in any situation he knew himself a factor to 
 
 be reckoned with; whatever the game, he 
 
 would play it to his amusement, if not to his 
 
 advantage. 
 
 The smoke of his cigarette curled round 
 his head. Life, — how unreal, how barren. 
 
88 ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 and yet, how fascinating! Fools, calling 
 themselves philosophers, had tried to bring 
 home the bitter fact to men. His philosophy 
 lent itself to a pious fraud — taught him to 
 minimise the importance of his pains, and to 
 magnify that of his pleasures ; made life de- 
 lightful and death incidental. Zeno had 
 shown him how to face adversity, and Epicu- 
 rus how to enjoy pleasure. He basked in 
 the smiles of fortune, and shrugged his 
 shoulders at the frowns of fate. His exist- 
 ence, or series of existences, had been agree- 
 able. All that he remembered had been 
 worth living. If there was a future state, if 
 the game was to begin again elsewhere, he 
 would take a hand. He hoped for immor- 
 tality, but he contemplated annihilation with 
 composure. Meanwhile the business of liv- 
 ing was an interesting problem. His speech, 
 — he had made many and knew that nothing 
 good can be obtained without effort. These 
 impromptu feats of oratory existed only in 
 the minds of the listeners; the flowers of 
 rhetoric were hothouse plants. 
 
 What was there to say.? Successive 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 89 
 
 cigarettes had been mechanically consumed. 
 Amid the smoke he saw a peroration, which 
 would cut deep into the hearts of a crowd ; 
 a high thought, a fine simile, expressed in 
 that correct diction which is comprehensi- 
 ble even to the most illiterate, and appeals 
 to the most simple; something to lift their 
 minds from the material cares of life and 
 to awake sentiment. His ideas began to 
 take the form of words, to group them- 
 selves into sentences ; he murmured to him- 
 self ; the rhythm of his own language swayed 
 him ; instinctively he alliterated. Ideas suc- 
 ceeded one another, as a stream flows swiftly 
 by and the light changes on its waters. He 
 seized a piece of paper and began hurriedly 
 to pencil notes. That was a point; could 
 not tautology accentuate it.? He scribbled 
 down a rough sentence, scratched it out, 
 polished it, and wrote it in again. The 
 sound would please their ears, the sense 
 improve and stimulate their minds. What 
 a game it was ! His brain contained the 
 cards he had to play, the world the stakes 
 he played for. 
 
go ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 
 
 As he worked, the hours passed away. 
 The housekeeper entering with his luncheon 
 found him silent and busy; she had seen 
 him thus before and did not venture to in- 
 terrupt him. The untasted food grew cold 
 upon the table, as the hands of the clock 
 moved slowly round marking the measured 
 tread of time. Presently he rose, and, com- 
 pletely under the influence of his own 
 thoughts and language, began to pace the 
 room with short rapid strides, speaking to 
 himself in a low voice and with great em- 
 phasis. Suddenly he stopped, and with a 
 strange violence his hand descended on the 
 table. It was the end of the speech. 
 
 The noise recalled him to the common- 
 places of life. He was hungry and tired, 
 and with a laugh at his own enthusiasm sat 
 down at the table and began his neglected 
 luncheon. 
 
 A dozen sheets of note paper, covered 
 with phrases, facts, and figures, were the 
 result of the morning's work. They lay 
 pinned together on the table, harmless in- 
 significant pieces of paper ; and yet Antonio 
 
ON CONSTITUTIONAL GROUNDS. 9 1 
 
 Molara, President of the Republic of Lau- 
 rania, would have feared a bombshell less. 
 Nor would he have been either a fool or 
 a coward. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 The palace of Laurania was admirably 
 suited to the discharge of the social cere- 
 monies of the State. The lavish expenditure 
 on public entertainments, which the consti- 
 tutional practice encouraged, allowed the 
 hospitalities of the Republic to be extended 
 upon the most magnificent scale. The open- 
 ing State Ball of the season was in many 
 ways the most important of these affairs. It 
 was at this function that the great men of 
 both parties met, for the first time after the 
 summer heats, before the autumn session, 
 and the brilliant society of the capital re- 
 united after their absence in their country 
 and mountain villas. Taste, elegance, and 
 magnificence were equally displayed. The 
 finest music, the best champagne, the most 
 diverse, yet select, company were among the 
 attractions of the evening. The spacious 
 
 92 
 
THE STATE BALL. 93 
 
 courtyard of the palace was completely cov- 
 ered by a gigantic awning. Rows of the 
 Infantry of the Guard lined the approaches, 
 and with their bright steel bayonets increased 
 the splendour and the security of the occa- 
 sion. The well-Ht streets were crowded with 
 the curious populace. The great hall of the 
 palace, at all times imposing and magnificent, 
 displayed a greater pomp when filled with a 
 gaily dressed company. 
 
 At the head of the stairs stood the Presi- 
 dent and his wife, he resplendent in his orders 
 and. medals, she in her matchless beauty. 
 As the guests ascended, an aide-de-camp, a 
 gorgeous thing in crimson and gold, inquired 
 their names and styles and announced them. 
 Many and various was the company ; every 
 capital in Europe, every country in the world, 
 was represented. 
 
 The guest of the evening was the King 
 of Ethiopia, a mass of silk and jewels 
 framing a black but vivacious face. He 
 came early, — unwisely as, had he come 
 later, there would have been a better audi- 
 ence to watch his arrival; however, to his 
 
94 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 untutored mind perhaps this was a matter 
 of little importance. 
 
 The Diplomatic Corps followed in a long 
 succession. Coach after coach drew up at 
 the entrance and discharged its burden of 
 polite astuteness, clothed in every conceiva- 
 ble combination of gold and colour. Ar- 
 rived at the top of the stairs, the Russian 
 Ambassador, grey but gallant, paused and, 
 bowing with a stately courtesy, kissed the 
 hand Lucile extended. 
 
 " The scene is an appropriate setting to 
 a peerless diamond," he murmured. 
 
 " Would it sparkle as brightly in the Win- 
 ter Palace ? " inquired Lucile lightly. 
 
 " Assuredly the frosty nights of Russia 
 would intensify its brilliancy." 
 
 " Among so many others it would be lost." 
 
 " Among all others it would be unrivalled 
 and alone." 
 
 " Ah," she said, " I hate publicity, and as 
 for solitude, frosty solitude, the thought of 
 it alone makes me shiver." 
 
 She laughed. The diplomatist threw her 
 a look of admiration, and stepping into the 
 
THE STATE BALL. 95 
 
 crowd, that already blocked the head of the 
 stairs, received and returned the congratu- 
 lations of his numerous friends. 
 
 " Madame Tranta," said the aide-de-camp. 
 
 "I am so glad to see you," said Lucile. 
 "What a pity your daughter could not 
 come; it has been a great disappointment 
 to many." 
 
 The ugly old woman thus addressed 
 beamed with delight, and moving up the 
 stairs pushed her way to the marble balus- 
 trade of the balcony. She watched the 
 later arrivals, and commented freely to her 
 acquaintance on their dresses and deport- 
 ments ; she also gave a little information 
 about each one, which would have been ill- 
 natured even had it not been untrue; but 
 though she told her friends many things, 
 she did not mention that she had had to 
 make Traata write and threaten to desert 
 the President's party unless she was asked 
 to the ball, and that even this had failed 
 to procure an invitation for her daughter, 
 an unfortunate girl who added a bad com- 
 plexion to the family features. 
 
96 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 Louvet came next, looking anxiously at 
 the crowd of faces which gazed from the 
 landing, and imagining bombs and daggers 
 at every step. He regarded Lucile with 
 apprehension, but her smile seemed to give 
 him courage and he mingled with the throng. 
 
 Then Sir Richard Shalgrove, the British 
 Ambassador, whose genial and cheery face 
 displayed an innocence which contrasted 
 with his reputation, advanced to make his 
 bow. The strained relations between Lau- 
 rania and Great Britain seemed to disappear 
 in that comprehensive salutation. Lucile 
 engaged him for a moment in conversation ; 
 she pretended to know little or nothing. 
 " And when," she asked merrily, " do we 
 declare war ? " 
 
 " Not until after I have had the pleasure of 
 the third waltz, I hope," said the Ambassador. 
 
 " How annoying ! I wanted so much to 
 dance it with you." 
 
 " And you will not ? " he asked in great 
 concern. 
 
 " Dare I plunge two nations into war for 
 the sake of a waltz .? " 
 
THE STATE BALL. 97 
 
 " Had you my inducement you would not 
 hesitate," he replied gallantly. 
 
 "What, to precipitate hostilities! What 
 have we done.? What is your great in- 
 ducement to fight.?" 
 
 " Not to fight, — to dance," said Sir Rich- 
 ard with a little less than his usual assur- 
 ance. 
 
 "For a diplomatist you are indeed ex- 
 plicit. While you are in so good a mood, 
 tell me what has happened ; is there danger.?" 
 
 "Danger? No — how could there be?" 
 He selected a formula: "Between tradi- 
 tionally friendly powers arbitration settles 
 all disputes." 
 
 " You realise," she said earnestly and with 
 an entire change of manner, "that we have 
 to consider the political situation here? A 
 strong despatch improves the position of 
 the Government." 
 
 " I have felt all through," said the Am- 
 bassador uncompromisingly, " that there was 
 no danger." He did not however mention 
 that H.M. battleship ^_|^^r(?jj-^r( 1 2,000 tons 
 displacement and 14,000 horse power, armed 
 
98 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 with four 1 1 -inch guns) was steaming eigh- 
 teen knots an hour towards the African 
 port of the Lauranian Republic, or that he 
 himself had been busy all the afternoon with 
 cipher telegrams relating to ships, stores, 
 and military movements. He thought that 
 would be only boring her with purely tech- 
 nical details. 
 
 While this conversation had been taking 
 place, the stream of people had passed con- 
 tinuously up the stairs, and the throng on 
 the wide balcony that ran round the entire 
 hall had become dense. The wonderful 
 band was almost drowned by the hum of 
 conversation; the perfect floor of the ball- 
 room was only occupied by a few young 
 couples whose own affairs absorbed their 
 minds and excluded all other interests. A 
 feeling of expectancy pervaded the hall;, 
 the rumour that Savrola would come had 
 spread far and wide throughout Laurania. 
 
 Suddenly everyone became hushed, and 
 above the strains of the band the distant 
 sound of shouting was heard. Louder and 
 louder it swelled, swiftly approaching until 
 
THE STATE BALL. 99 
 
 it was at the very gate ; then it died away, 
 and there was a silence through the hall 
 filled only by the music. Had he been 
 hooted or cheered ? The sound had seemed 
 strangely ambiguous ; men were prepared to 
 wager about it; his face would tell them 
 the answer. 
 
 The swing-doors opened and Savrola en- 
 tered. All eyes were turned on him, but 
 his face showed them nothing, and the bets 
 remained undecided. As he leisurely as- 
 cended the stairs, his eye travelled with 
 interest round the crowded galleries and the 
 brilliant throng who lined them. No deco- 
 rations, no orders, no star relieved the plain 
 evening dress he wore. Amid that blaze 
 of colour, that multitude of gorgeous uni- 
 forms, he appeared a sombre figure; but, 
 like the Iron Duke in Paris, he looked 
 the leader of them all, calm, confident, and 
 composed. 
 
 The President walked down a few steps 
 to meet his distinguished guest. Both bowed 
 with grave dignity. 
 
 "I am glad you have come, Sir," said 
 
lOO THE STATE BALL. 
 
 Molara; "it is in harmony with the tradi- 
 tions of the State." 
 
 " Duty and inclination combined to point 
 the way," answered Savrola with a smile 
 marked by a suggestion of irony. 
 
 " You had no difficulty with the crowd .'' " 
 suggested the President acidly. 
 
 " Oh, no difficulty, but they take politics 
 a little seriously; they disapproved of my 
 coming to your palace." 
 
 "You are right to come," said Molara. 
 "Now we who are engaged in matters of 
 State know what these things are worth; 
 men of the world do not get excited over 
 public affairs, nor do gentlemen fight with 
 bludgeons." 
 
 " I prefer swords," said Savrola reflectively. 
 He had reached the head of the stairs and 
 Lucile stood before him. What a queen 
 she looked, how peerless and incomparable 
 among all women ! The fine tiara she wore 
 suggested sovereignty, and democrat as he 
 was, he bowed to that alone. She held out 
 her hand ; he took it with reverence and 
 courtesy, but the contact thrilled him. 
 
THE STATE BALL. lOI 
 
 The President selected a fat but famous 
 woman from the aristocracy of Laurania, 
 and led the way into the ball-room. Savrola 
 did not dance ; there were some amusements 
 which his philosophy taught him to despise. 
 Lucile was captured by the Russian Ambas- 
 sador, and he remained a spectator. 
 
 Lieutenant Tiro saw him thus alone and 
 approached him, wishing to finish their dis- 
 cussion about the " back " of the polo team, 
 which had been interrupted the week before. 
 Savrola received him with a smile ; he liked 
 the young soldier, as indeed did everyone. 
 Tiro was full of arguments ; he was in favour 
 of a strong heavy player who should lie 
 back in the game and take no chances. 
 Savrola, having remarked on the impor- 
 tance of the Lauranian Army being prop- 
 erly represented in an international contest, 
 favoured a light weight, playing right up 
 to his forwards and ready to take the ball 
 on himself at any moment. It was an ani- 
 mated discussion. 
 
 " Where have you played .'' " asked the 
 Subaltern, surprised at his knowledge. 
 
I02 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 " I have 'never played the game," answered 
 Savrola ; " but I have always thought it a 
 good training for military officers." 
 
 The subject was changed. 
 
 "Explain to me," said the great Demo- 
 crat, "what all these different orders are. 
 What is that blue one that Sir Richard, the 
 British Ambassador, is wearing.'* " 
 
 " That is the Garter," replied the Subaltern ; 
 " the most honourable order in England." 
 
 " Really, and what is this that you are 
 wearing .? " 
 
 " I ! Oh, that's the African medal. I was 
 out there in '86 and '87, you know." As 
 Savrola had anticipated, he was intensely 
 pleased at being asked. 
 
 " It must have been a strange experience 
 for you, who are so young." 
 
 " It was damned good fun," said the Sub- 
 altern with decision. " I was at Langi Tal. 
 My squadron had a five-mile pursuit. The 
 lance is a beautiful weapon. The English 
 in India have a sport called pig-sticking; 
 I have never tried it, but I know a better," 
 
 "Well, you may have another chance 
 
THE STATE BALL. IO3 
 
 soon. We seem to be getting into difficul- 
 ties with the British Government." 
 
 " Do you think there is any chance of 
 war ? " asked the boy eagerly. 
 
 "Well, of course," said Savrola, "a war 
 would distract the attention of the people 
 from internal agitation and the Reform 
 movement. The President is a clever man. 
 There might be war. I should not care to 
 prophesy ; but do you wish for it ? " 
 
 "Certainly I do; it is my profession. I 
 am sick of being a lap-dog in this palace ; I 
 long for the camp and the saddle again. 
 Besides, these English will be worth fight- 
 ing; they will give us a gallop all right. 
 There was one of their officers with me at 
 Langi Tal, a subaltern ; he came as a spec- 
 tator searching for adventure." 
 
 " What happened to him ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, we pursued the enemy 
 all the way to the hills and played the devil 
 with them. As we were galloping along, 
 he saw a lot making off towards a wood, 
 and wanted to cut them off. I said there 
 wasn't time; he laid me six to four there 
 
I04 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 was, SO I sent a troop, — I was in command 
 of the squadron that day — you know. He 
 went with them and showed them the way 
 straight enough, — but I bore you ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I am greatly interested ; 
 what then ? " 
 
 " He was wrong ; the enemy got to the 
 wood first and picked him off in the open. 
 Our fellows brought him back, shot through 
 the big artery of the leg ; that doesn't take 
 long, you know. All he said was : ' Well, 
 you've won, but how the deuce you'll get 
 paid, I can't think. Ask my brother, — 
 Royal Lancers.' " 
 
 " And then .? " asked Savrola. 
 
 " Well, I couldn't find the artery to com- 
 press it, and none of the doctors were about. 
 He died, — a gallant fellow ! " 
 
 The Subaltern paused, rather ashamed at 
 having talked so much about his military 
 adventures. Savrola felt as if he had looked 
 into a new world, a world_ of ardent, reckless, 
 warlike youth. He was himself young 
 enough to feel a certain jealousy. This boy 
 had seen what he had not ; he possessed an 
 
THE STATE BALL. 105 
 
 experience which taught him lessons Sav- 
 rola had never learned. Their lives had 
 been different; but one day perhaps he 
 would open this strange book of war, and 
 by the vivid light of personal danger read 
 the lessons it contained. 
 
 Meanwhile the dances had succeeded each 
 other and the night was passing. The 
 King of Ethiopia, horrified at the low 
 dresses of the unveiled women and dread- 
 ing the prospect of eating with odious white 
 people, had taken his departure. The Presi- 
 dent,, approaching Savrola, invited him to 
 take his wife down to supper ; a procession 
 was formed ; he offered Lucile his arm and 
 they descended the stairs. The supper was 
 excellent: the champagne was dry and the 
 quails fat. A profusion of rare and beauti- 
 ful orchids covered the table ; Savrola's sur- 
 roundings were agreeable, and he sat next 
 the most beautiful woman in Laurania, who, 
 though he did not know it, was exerting 
 herself to captivate him. At first they 
 talked amusing frivolities. The President, 
 whose manners were refined, showed him- 
 
I06 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 self a pleasant companion and an accom- 
 plished talker. Savrola, who delighted in 
 sparkling conversation, found it difficult to 
 keep to the part of a purely official visitor 
 which he had determined to observe. The 
 influence of wit, wine, and beauty were com- 
 bined to break his reserve ; before he knew 
 it, he had joined in a discussion, one of those 
 half cynical, half serious discussions which 
 are characteristic of an age which inquires 
 because it doubts, and doubts the more 
 because it has inquired. 
 
 The Russian Ambassador had said that 
 he worshipped beauty, and had told his part- 
 ner, the youthful Countess of Ferrol, that he 
 regarded taking her into dinner as a reli- 
 gious observance. 
 
 " I suppose that means you are bored," 
 she replied. 
 
 " By no means ; in my religion the cere- 
 monies are never dull; that is one of the 
 principal advantages I claim for it." 
 
 "There are few others," said Molara; 
 " you devote yourself to an idol of your own 
 creation. If you worship beauty, your god- 
 
THE STATE BALL, IO7 
 
 dess stands on no surer pedestal than human 
 caprice. Is it not so, Princess ? " 
 
 The Princess of Tarentum, who was on 
 the President's right, replied that even that 
 foundation was more secure than that on 
 which many beliefs repose. 
 
 " You mean that in your own case human 
 caprice has been sufficiently constant? I 
 can well believe it." 
 
 " No," she said ; " I only mean that the 
 love of beauty is common to all human 
 beings." 
 
 " To all living things," corrected Savrola. 
 "It is the love of the plant that produces 
 the flower." 
 
 "Ah," said the President, "but, though 
 the love of beauty may be constant, beauty 
 itself may change. Look how everything 
 changes: the beauty of one age is not the 
 beauty of the next; what is admired in 
 Africa is hideous in Europe. It is all 
 a matter of opinion, local opinion. Your 
 goddess. Monsieur, has as many shapes as 
 Proteus." 
 
 " I like change," said the Ambassador. 
 
I08 THE STATE BALL. 
 
 " I regard variability of form as a decided 
 advantage in a goddess. I do not care how 
 many shapes I look at, so long as all are 
 beautiful." 
 
 " But," interposed Lucile, " you make no 
 distinction between what is beautiful and 
 what we think is beautiful." 
 
 " There is none," said the President. 
 
 " In Her Excellency's case there would be 
 none," interposed the Ambassador politely. 
 
 " What is beauty," said Molara, " but what 
 we choose to admire ? " 
 
 " Do we choose .-* Have we the power ? " 
 asked Savrola. 
 
 " Certainly," answered the President ; " and 
 every year we alter our decisions; every 
 year the fashion changes. Ask the ladies. 
 Look at the fashions of thirty years ago; 
 they were thought becoming then. Observe 
 the different styles of painting that have 
 succeeded each other, or of poetry, or of 
 music. Besides, Monsieur de Stranoff's 
 goddess, though beautiful to him, might not 
 be so to another." 
 
 " I regard that also as a real advantage ; 
 
THE STATE BALL. I09 
 
 you make me more enamoured with my re- 
 ligion each moment. I do not worship my 
 ideals for the reclame" said the Ambassador 
 with a smile. 
 
 "You look at the question from a mate- 
 rial point of view." 
 
 " Material rather than moral," said Lady 
 Ferrol. 
 
 " But in the spirit-worship of my goddess 
 the immorality is immaterial. Besides, if 
 you say that our tastes are always chang- 
 ing, it seems to me that constancy is the 
 essence of my religion." 
 
 '' That is a paradox which we shall make 
 you explain," said Molara. 
 
 "Well, you say I change each day, and 
 my goddess changes too. To-day I admire 
 one standard of beauty, to-morrow another, 
 but when to-morrow comes I am no longer 
 the same person. The molecular structure of 
 my brain is altered ; my ideas have changed ; 
 my old self has perished, loving its own 
 ideal ; the renovated ego starts life with a new 
 one. It is all a case of wedded till death." 
 
 " You are not going to declare that con- 
 
no THE STATE BALL. 
 
 stancy is a series of changes ? You may as 
 well assert that motion is a succession of 
 halts." 
 
 " I am true to the fancy of the hour." 
 
 " You express my views in other words. 
 Beauty depends on human caprice, and 
 changes with the times." 
 
 " Look at that statue," said Savrola sud- 
 denly, indicating a magnificent marble fig- 
 ure of Diana which stood in the middle of 
 the room surrounded by ferns. " More than 
 two thousand years have passed since men 
 called that beautiful. Do we deny it now ? " 
 There was no answer and he contimaed: 
 " That is true beauty of line and form, which 
 is eternal. The other things you have men- 
 tioned, fashions, styles, fancies, are but the 
 unsuccessful efforts we make to attain to 
 it. Men call such efforts art. Art is to 
 beauty what honour is to honesty, an un- 
 natural allotropic form. Art and honour 
 belong to gentlemen ; beauty and honesty 
 are good enough for men." 
 
 There was a pause. It was impossible 
 to mistake the democratic tone ; his earnest- 
 
THE STATE BALL. Ill 
 
 ness impressed them. Molara looked uneasy. 
 The Ambassador came to the rescue. 
 
 " Well, I shall continue to worship the 
 goddess of beauty, whether she be constant 
 or variable" — he looked at the Countess; 
 " and to show my devotion I shall offer up 
 a waltz in that sacred fane, the ball-room." 
 
 He pushed his chair back, and, stooping, 
 picked up his partner's glove, which had 
 fallen to the floor. Everyone rose, and 
 the party separated. As Savrola walked 
 back to the hall with Lucile, they passed 
 an open doorway leading to the garden, 
 A multitude of fairy lights marked out the 
 flower-beds or hung in festoons from the 
 trees. The paths were carpeted with red 
 cloth; a cool breeze fanned their faces. 
 Lucile paused. 
 
 " It is a lovely night." 
 
 The invitation was plain. She had wanted 
 to speak to him, then, after all. How right 
 he was to come, — on constitutional grounds. 
 
 " Shall we go out ? " he said. 
 
 She consented, and they stepped on to the 
 terrace. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "in the starlight." 
 
 The night was very still. The soft breeze 
 was not strong enough to stir even the 
 slender palms which rose on all sides, and 
 whose outlines, above the surrounding foli- 
 age, framed the starlit sky. The palace 
 stood on high ground, and the garden 
 sloped on the western side towards the 
 sea. At the end of the terrace was a 
 stone seat. 
 
 " Let us sit here," said Lucile. 
 
 They sat down. The dreamy music of 
 a waltz floated down as a distant accom- 
 paniment to their thoughts. The windows 
 of the palace blazed with light and sug- 
 gested glitter, glare, and heat; in the gar- 
 den all was quiet and cool. 
 
 " Why do you sneer at honour ? " asked 
 Lucile, thinking of the interrupted conver- 
 sation. 
 
 112 
 
" IN THE STARLIGHT." II 3 
 
 " Because it has no true foundation, no 
 ultra-human sanction. Its codes are con- 
 stantly changing with times and places. At 
 one time it is thought more honourable to 
 kill the man you have wronged than to 
 make amends ; at another it is more impor- 
 tant to pay a bookmaker than a butcher. 
 Like art it changes with human caprice, 
 and like art it comes from opulence and 
 luxury," 
 
 " But why do you claim a higher origin 
 for beauty and honesty ? " 
 
 " Because, wherever I have looked, I see 
 that all things are perpetually referred to 
 an eternal standard of fitness, and that right 
 triumphs over wrong, truth over falsehood, 
 beauty over ugliness. Fitness is the general 
 expression! Judged by this standard art 
 and honour have little value." 
 
 " But are these things so } " she asked 
 wonderingly. " Surely there are many ex- 
 ceptions ? " 
 
 " Nature never considers the individual ; 
 she only looks at the average fitness of the 
 species. Consider the statistics of mortality. 
 
114 "in the starlight." 
 
 How exact they are : they give to a month 
 the expectation of life to men ; and yet they 
 tell a man nothing. We cannot say that 
 a good man will always overcome a knave ; 
 but the evolutionist will not hesitate to 
 affirm that the nation with the highest ideals 
 would succeed." 
 
 " Unless," said Lucile, "some other nation 
 with lower ideals, but stronger arms, inter- 
 venes." 
 
 " Well, even then might is a form of fit- 
 ness ; I think a low form, but still physical 
 force contains the elements of human prog- 
 ress. This is only the instance ; we must 
 enlarge our view. Nature does not consider 
 the individual ■ species. All we will now 
 assert is that organisms imbued with moral 
 fitness would ultimately rise above those 
 whose virtue is physical. How many times 
 has civilisation, by which I mean a state of 
 society where moral force begins to escape 
 from the tyranny of physical forces, climbed 
 the ladder of Progress and been dragged 
 down.? Perhaps many hundred times in 
 this world alone. But the motive power, 
 
"in the starlight." 115 
 
 the upward tendency, was constant. Evolu- 
 tion does not say ' always,' but ' ultimately.' 
 Well, ultimately civilisation has climbed up 
 beyond the reach of barbarism. The higher 
 ideals have reached the surface by superior 
 buoyancy." 
 
 " Why do you assume that this triumph 
 is permanent? How do you know that it 
 will not be reversed, as all others have 
 been ? " 
 
 " Because we have got might on our side, 
 as well as moral ascendancy." 
 
 " Perhaps the Romans in the summit of 
 their power thought that too ? " 
 
 " Very likely, but without reason. They 
 had only their swords to fall back upon as 
 an ultimate appeal ; and when they became 
 effete they could no longer wield them," 
 
 " And modern civilisation ? " 
 
 " Ah, we have other weapons. When we 
 have degenerated, as we must eventually 
 degenerate, when we have lost our intrinsic 
 superiority, and other races, according to 
 the natural law, advance to take our place, we 
 shall fall back upon these weapons. Our 
 
ii6 
 
 morals will be gone, but our Maxims will 
 remain. The effete and trembling Euro- 
 pean will sweep from the earth by scientific 
 machinery the valiant savages who assail 
 him." 
 
 " Is that the triumph of moral superi- 
 ority?" 
 
 " At first it would be, for the virtues of 
 civilisation are of a higher type than those 
 of barbarism. Kindness is better than cour- 
 age, and charity more than strength. But 
 ultimately the dominant race will degener- 
 ate, and as there will be none to take its 
 place, the degeneration must continue. It 
 is the old struggle between vitality and 
 decay, between energy and indolence ; a 
 struggle that always ends in silence. After 
 all, we could not expect human developement 
 to be constant. It is only a question of 
 time before the planet becomes unfitted to 
 support life on its surface." 
 
 " But you said that fitness must ultimately 
 triumph." 
 
 " Over relative unfitness, yes. But decay 
 will involve all, victors and vanquished. The 
 
"IN THE STARLIGHT." II7 
 
 fire of life will die out, the spirit of vitality 
 become extinct." 
 
 " In this world perhaps." 
 
 " In every world. All the universe is cool- 
 ing — dying, that is, — and as it cools, life 
 for a spell becomes possible on the surface 
 of its spheres, and plays strange antics. 
 And then the end comes ; the universe dies 
 and is sepulchred in the cold darkness of 
 ultimate negation." 
 
 " To what purpose then are all our 
 efforts?" 
 
 " God knows," said Savrola cynically ; 
 "but I can imagine that the drama would 
 not be an uninteresting one to watch." 
 
 " And yet you believe in an ultra-human 
 foundation, an eternal ideal for such things 
 as beauty and virtue." 
 
 " I believe that the superiority of fitness 
 over relative unfitness is one of the great 
 laws of matter. I include all kinds of fit- 
 ness, — moral, physical, mathematical." 
 
 " Mathematical ! " 
 
 " Certainly ; words only exist by conform- 
 ing to correct mathematical principles. That 
 
ii8 "in the starlight." 
 
 is one of the great proofs we have that mathe- 
 matics have been discovered, not invented. 
 The planets observe a regular progression 
 in their distances from the sun. Evolution 
 suggests that those that did not observe such 
 principles were destroyed by collisions and 
 amalgamated with others. It is a universal 
 survival of the fittest." She was silent. He 
 continued : " Now let us say that in the be- 
 ginning there existed two factors, matter ani- 
 mated by the will to live, and the eternal 
 ideal ; the great author and the great critic. 
 It is to the interplay and counter-action of 
 these two that all developement, that all forms 
 of life are due. The more the expression of 
 the will to live approximates to the eternal 
 standard of fitness, the better it succeeds." 
 
 " I would add a third," she said ; " a great 
 Being to instil into all forms of life the desire 
 to attain to the ideal ; to teach them in what 
 ways they may succeed." 
 
 " It is pleasant," he replied, " to think that 
 such a Being exists to approve our victories, 
 to cheer our struggles, and to light our way ; 
 but it is not scientifically or logically neces- 
 
"IN THE STARLIGHT." II9 
 
 sary to assume one after the two factors I 
 have spoken of are once at work." 
 
 " Surely the knowledge that such an ultra- 
 human ideal existed must have been given 
 from without." 
 
 " No ; that instinct which we call con- 
 science was derived as all other knowledge 
 from experience." 
 
 "How could it be.?" 
 
 " I think of it in this way. When the 
 human race was emerging from the dark- 
 ness of its origin and half animal, half hu- 
 man creatures trod the earth, there was no 
 idea of justice, honesty, or virtue, only the 
 motive power which we may call the 'will 
 to live.' Then perhaps it was a minor pecu- 
 liarity of some of these early ancestors of 
 man to combine in twos and threes for their 
 mutual protection. The first alliance was 
 made ; the combinations prospered where the 
 isolated individuals failed. The faculty of 
 combination appeared to be an element of 
 fitness. By natural selection only the com- 
 binations survived. Thus man became a 
 social animal. Gradually the little societies 
 
I20 "IN THE STARLIGHT." 
 
 became larger ones. From families to tribes, 
 and from tribes to nations the species ad- 
 vanced, always finding that the better they, 
 combined, the better they succeeded. Now 
 on what did this system of alliance depend ? 
 It depended on the members keeping faith 
 with each other, on the practice of honesty, 
 justice, and the rest of the virtues. Only 
 those beings in whom such faculties were 
 present were able to combine, and thus only 
 the relatively honest men were preserved. 
 The process repeated itself countless times 
 during untold ages. At every step the race 
 advanced, and at every step the realisation 
 of the cause increased. Honesty and justice 
 are bound up in our compositions and form 
 an inseparable part of our natures. It is 
 only with diflficulty that we repress such 
 awkward inclinations." 
 
 " You do not then believe in God .? " 
 " I never said that," said Savrola. " I am 
 only discussing the question of our existence 
 from one standpoint, that of reason. There 
 are many who think that reason and faith, 
 science and religion, must be everlastingly 
 
"IN THE STARLIGHT." 121 
 
 separated, and that if one be admitted the 
 other must be denied. Perhaps it is because 
 we see so short a span, that we think that 
 their lines are parallel and never touch each 
 other. I always cherish the hope that some- 
 where in the perspective of the future there 
 may be a vanishing point where all lines of 
 human aspiration will ultimately meet." 
 
 " And you believe all this that you have 
 said.?" 
 
 " No," he answered, " there is no faith 
 in disbelief, whatever the poets have said. 
 Before we can solve the problems of exist- 
 ence we must establish the fact that we 
 exist at all. It is a strange riddle, is it not ? " 
 
 " We shall learn the answer when we die." 
 
 "If I thought that," said Savrola, "I 
 should kill myself to-night out of irresisti- 
 ble curiosity." 
 
 He paused, and looked up at the stars, 
 which shone so brightly overhead. She fol- 
 lowed his gaze. " You like the stars ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I love them," he replied ; " they are very 
 beautiful." 
 
122 "IN THE STARLIGHT. 
 
 " Perhaps your fate is written there." 
 
 " I have always adjnired the audacity of 
 man in thinking that a Supreme Power 
 should placard the skies with the details 
 of his squalid future, and that his marriage, 
 his misfortunes, and his crimes should be 
 written in letters of suns on the background 
 of limitless space. We are consequential 
 atoms." 
 
 " You think we are of no importance ? " 
 
 " Life is very cheap. Nature has no ex- 
 aggerated idea of its value. I realise my 
 own insignificance, but I am a philosophic 
 microbe, and it rather adds to my amuse- 
 ment than otherwise. Insignificant or not, 
 I like living, it is good to think of the 
 future." 
 
 "Ah," said Lucile impetuously, "whither 
 are you hurrying us in the future, — to 
 revolution .? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Savrola calmly. 
 
 " You are prepared to plunge the country 
 in a civil war ? " 
 
 " Well, I hope it will not come to that 
 extreme. Probably there will be some 
 
"in the starlight." 123 
 
 street-fighting and some people will be killed, 
 but " 
 
 "But why should you drive them like 
 this ? " 
 
 " I discharge a duty to the human species 
 in breaking down a military despotism. I 
 do not like to see a Government supported 
 only by bayonets ; it is an anachronism." 
 
 "The Government is just and firm; it 
 maintains law and order. Why should you 
 assail it merely because it does not harmo- 
 nise with your theories ? " 
 
 " My theories ! " said Savrola. " Is that 
 the name you give to the lines of soldiers 
 with loaded rifles that guard this palace, 
 or to the Lancers I saw spearing the people 
 in the square a week ago ? " 
 
 His voice had grown strangely vehement 
 and his manner thrilled her. " You will 
 ruin us," she said weakly. 
 
 " No," he replied with his grand air, " you 
 can never be ruined. Your brilliancy and 
 beauty will always make you the luckiest 
 of women, and your husband the luckiest 
 of men." 
 
124 "IN THE STARLIGHT. 
 
 His great soul was above the suspicion 
 of presumption. She looked up at him, 
 smiled quickly, and impulsively held out her 
 hand. "We are on opposite sides, but we 
 will fight under the rules of war. I hope 
 we shall remain friends even though " 
 
 " We are officially enemies," said Savrola, 
 completing the sentence, and taking her 
 hand in his he bowed and kissed it. After 
 that they were both very silent, and walk- 
 ing along the terrace re-entered the palace. 
 Most of the guests had already gone, and 
 Savrola did not ascend the stairs,, but pass- 
 ing through the swing-doors took his de- 
 parture. Lucile walked up to the ball-room 
 in which a few youthful and indefatigable 
 couples were still circling. Molara met her. 
 " My dear," he said, " where have you been 
 all this time ? " 
 
 " In the garden," she replied. 
 
 "With Savrola.?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The President repressed a feeling of satis- 
 faction. " Did he tell you anything ? " he 
 asked. 
 
"IN THE STARLIGHT. 1 25 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, remembering for 
 the first time the object with which she had 
 sought the interview; " I must see him again." 
 
 "You will continue to try and find out 
 his political intentions ? " inquired Molara 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I shall see him again," she replied. 
 
 " I trust to your wit," said the President ; 
 " you can do it, if anyone can, my dearest." 
 
 The last dance came to an end and 
 the last guest departed. Very weary and 
 thoughtful Lucile retired to her room. Her 
 conversation with Savrola filled her mind; 
 his earnestness, his enthusiasm, his hopes, 
 his beliefs, or, rather, his disbeliefs, all 
 passed again in review before her. What 
 a great man he was ! Was it wonderful the 
 people followed him? She would like to 
 hear him speak to-morrow. 
 
 Her maid came in to assist her to undress. 
 She had looked from an upper balcony and 
 had seen Savrola. " Was that," she asked 
 her mistress curiously, " the great Agi- 
 tator ? " Her brother was going to hear 
 him make his speech to-morrow. 
 
126 "IN THE STARLIGHT," 
 
 " Is he going to make a speech to- 
 morrow ? " asked Lucile. 
 
 " So my brother says," said the maid ; " he 
 says that he is going to give them such a 
 dressing down they will never forget it." 
 The maid paid great attention to her broth- 
 er's words. There was much sympathy be- 
 tween them ; in fact she only called him her 
 brother because it sounded better. 
 
 Lucile took up the evening paper which 
 lay on the bed. There on the first page 
 was the announcement, the great meeting 
 would take place at the City- Hall at eight 
 the next evening. She dismissed the maid 
 and walked to the window. The silent city 
 lay before her; to-morrow the man she had 
 talked with would convulse that city with 
 excitement. She would go and hear him; 
 women went to these meetings; why should 
 she not go, closely veiled ? After all it would 
 enable her to learn something of his char- 
 acter and she could thus better assist her 
 husband. With this reflection, which was 
 extremely comforting, she went to bed. 
 
 The President was going up-stairs, when 
 
"in the starlight." 127 
 
 Miguel met him. " More business ? " he 
 asked wearily. 
 
 "No," said the Secretary; "things are 
 going on very well." 
 
 Molara looked at him with quick annoy- 
 ance ; but Miguel's face remained impassive, 
 so he simply replied, " I am glad of that," and 
 passed on. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 The disapproval which Moret had ex- 
 pressed at Savrola's determination to go to 
 the State Ball was amply justified by the 
 result. Every paper, except those actually 
 controlled by the party organisation, com- 
 mented severely or contemptuously on his 
 action. The Hour alluded to the groans 
 with which the crowd had received him, as 
 marking the decline of his influence with 
 the masses and the break-up of the Revolu- 
 tionary party. It also reminded its readers 
 that social distinction was always the high- 
 est ambition of the Demagogue, and de- 
 clared that, by accepting the President's 
 invitation, Savrola had revealed "his sordid 
 personal aims." The other Government or- 
 gans expressed a similar opinion in an even 
 more offensive manner. " These agitators," 
 said The Courtier, "have at all times in 
 
 128 
 
THE ADMIRAL. 1 29 
 
 the history of the world hankered after titles 
 and honours, and the prospect of mixing 
 with persons of rank and fashion has once 
 again proved irresistible to an austere and 
 unbending son of the people." This supe- 
 rior vulgarity, though more unpleasant, was 
 less dangerous than the grave and serious 
 warnings and protests which the Democratic 
 journals contained. The Rising Tide said 
 plainly that, if this sort of thing continued, 
 the Popular party would have to find an- 
 other leader, " One who did not cringe to 
 power nor seek to ingratiate himself with 
 fashion." 
 
 Savrola read these criticisms with disdain. 
 He had recognised the fact that such things 
 would be said, and had deliberately exposed 
 himself to them. He knew he had been 
 unwise to go : he had known that from the 
 first; and yet somehow he did not regret 
 his mistake. After all, why should his party 
 dictate to him how he should rule his pri- 
 vate life? He would never resign his right 
 to go where he pleased. In this case he 
 had followed his own inclination, and the 
 
130 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 odium which had been cast upon him was 
 the price he was prepared to pay. When 
 he thought of his conversation in the gar- 
 den, he did not feel that he had made a bad 
 bargain. The damage however must be re- 
 paired. He looked over the notes of his 
 speech again, polished his sentences, con- 
 sidered his points, collected his arguments, 
 and made some additions which he thought 
 appropriate to the altered state of public 
 feeling. 
 
 In this occupation the morning passed. 
 Moret came in to luncheon. He refrained 
 from actually saying " I told you so," but 
 his looks showed that he felt his judgment 
 was for the future established on unshaka- 
 ble foundations. His was a character easily 
 elated or depressed. Now he was gloomy 
 and despondent, regarding the cause as 
 already lost. Only a forlorn hope remained ; 
 Savrola might express his regret at the meet- 
 ing, and appeal to the people to remember 
 his former services. He suggested this to 
 his leader, who laughed merrily at the idea. 
 " My dear Louis," he said, " I shall do noth- 
 
THE ADMIRAL. I3I 
 
 ing of the sort. I will never resign my own 
 independence ; I shall always go where I like 
 and do what I like, and if they are not pleased, 
 they can find someone else to discharge their 
 public business." Moret shuddered. Savrola 
 continued : " I shall not actually tell them so, 
 but my manner will show them that I fear 
 their reproaches as little as Molara's enmity." 
 
 " Perhaps they will not listen ; I hear 
 reports that there will be some hostility." 
 
 " Oh, I shall make them listen. There 
 may be some howling at first, but they will 
 change their note before I have gone very 
 far." 
 
 His confidence was contagious. Moret's 
 spirits revived under its influence and that 
 of a bottle of excellent claret. Like Napo- 
 leon the Third, he felt that all might yet 
 be regained. 
 
 Meanwhile the President was extremely 
 well satisfied with the first result of his 
 schemes. He had not foreseen that Sav- 
 rola's acceptance of the invitation to ' the 
 ball would involve him in so much unpopu- 
 larity, and, although it was a poor compli- 
 
132 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 ment to himself, it was an unexpected 
 advantage. Besides, as Miguel had re- 
 marked, everything was going on very well 
 in other directions. He had hardened his 
 heart and dismissed his scruples; stern, 
 bitter necessity had thrust him on an un- 
 pleasant course, but now that he had started 
 he was determined to go on. In the mean- 
 time affairs pressed on all sides. The 
 British Government were displaying an 
 attitude of resolution on the African Ques- 
 tion. His violent despatch had not settled 
 the matter, as he had hoped and even 
 anticipated ; it had become necessary to 
 supplement his words by actions. The 
 African port must not be left undefended; 
 the fleet must go there at once. It was 
 not a moment when he could well afford 
 to be without the five ships of war whose 
 presence in the harbour overawed many 
 of the discontented; but he felt that a 
 vigorous foreign policy would be popular, 
 or at least sufficiently interesting to keep 
 the public mind from domestic agitation. 
 He also knew that a disaster abroad would 
 
THE ADMIRAL. 1 33 
 
 precipitate a revolution at home. It was 
 necessary to be very careful. He recognised 
 the power and resources of Great Britain ; 
 he had no illusions on the subject of the 
 comparative weakness of Laurania. In that 
 indeed lay their only strength. The British 
 Government would do all in their power 
 to avoid fighting (bullying, polite Europe 
 would call it) so small a State. It was 
 a game of bluff; the further he could go, 
 the better for the situation at home, but one 
 step too far meant ruin. It was a delicate 
 game to play, and it taxed to the utmost the 
 energies and talents of a strong, able man. 
 
 " The Admiral is here. Your Excellency," 
 said Miguel entering the room, followed 
 immediately by a short, red-faced man in 
 naval uniform. 
 
 " Good-morning, my dear de Mello," cried 
 the President, rising and shaking the new- 
 comer's hand with great cordiality. " I have 
 got some sailing-orders for you at last." 
 
 "Well," said de Mello bluntly, "I am 
 sick of lying up waiting for your agitators 
 to rise." 
 
134 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 " There is work of a difficult and exciting 
 nature before you. Where's that translation 
 of the cipher telegram, Miguel ? Ah, thank 
 you, — look here, Admiral." 
 
 The sailor read the paper, and whistled 
 significantly. " It may go further than you 
 wish, Molara, this time," he said uncere- 
 moniously. 
 
 " I shall place the matter in your hands ; 
 you will be able to save this situation, as 
 you have saved so many others." 
 
 "Where did this come from.?" asked 
 de Mello. 
 
 "From French sources." 
 
 " She is a powerful ship, the Aggressor, — 
 latest design, newest guns, in fact all the 
 modern improvements ; I have nothing that 
 she could not sink in ten minutes ; besides, 
 there are some gunboats there as well." 
 
 " I know the situation is difficult," said the 
 President; "that is why I am entrusting it 
 to you ! Now listen ; whatever happens I 
 don't want fighting ; that would only end in 
 disaster ; and you know what disaster would 
 mean here. You must argue and parley 
 
THE ADMIRAL. 1 35 
 
 and protest on every point, and cause as 
 much delay as possible. Consult me by 
 telegraph on every occasion, and try to 
 make friends with the English admiral; 
 that is half the battle. If it ever comes to 
 a question of bombardment, • we shall give 
 in and protest again. I will have your 
 instructions forwarded to you in writing this 
 evening. You had better steam to-night. 
 You understand the game ? " 
 
 " Yes," said de Mello, " I have played it 
 before." He shook hands and walked to 
 the door. 
 
 The President accompanied him. " It is 
 possible," he said earnestly, "that I shall 
 want you back here before you have gone 
 very far; there are many signs of trouble 
 in the city, and after all Strelitz is still on 
 the frontier waiting for a chance. If I send 
 for you, you will come ? " There was almost 
 an appealing note in his tone. 
 
 " Come .'' " said the Admiral. " Of course 
 I will come, — full steam ahead. I have 
 had my big gun trained on the Parliament 
 House for the last month, and I mean to 
 
136 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 let it off one day. Oh, you can trust the 
 fleet." 
 
 " Thank God I never doubted that," said 
 the President with some emotion, and shak- 
 ing de Mello's hand warmly, he returned to 
 his writing-tabfe. He felt that the Admiral 
 was thoroughly loyal to the Government. 
 
 These men who live their lives in great 
 machines, become involved in the mechan- 
 ism themselves. De Mello had lived on 
 warships all his days, and neither knew nor 
 cared for anything else. Landsmen and 
 civilians he despised with a supreme pro- 
 fessional contempt. Such parts of the world 
 as bordered on the sea, he regarded as 
 possible targets of different types; for the 
 rest he cared nothing. With equal interest 
 he would burst his shells on patriots strug- 
 gling to be free or foreign enemies, on a 
 hostile fort or on his native town. As 
 long as the authority to fire reached him 
 through the proper channel, he was content; 
 after that he regarded the question from 
 a purely technical standpoint. 
 
 The afternoon was far advanced before 
 
THE ADMIRAL. 137 
 
 the President finished the varied labours 
 of his office. " There is a great meeting 
 to-night, is there not.?" he asked Miguel. 
 
 " Yes," said the Secretary, " in the City- 
 Hall; Savrola is going to speak." " 
 
 " Have you arranged about an opposi- 
 tion ? " 
 
 "Some of the secret police are going to 
 make a little, I believe ; Colonel Sorrento has 
 arranged that. But I fancy Seiior Savrola's 
 party are rather displeased with him, as it is." 
 
 "Ah," said Molara, "I know his powers; 
 he will tear their very hearts out with his 
 words. He is a terrible force ; we must take 
 every precaution. I suppose the troops 
 have been ordered to be under arms.? 
 There is nothing he cannot do with a crowd, 
 — curse him ! " 
 
 " The Colonel was here this morning ; he 
 told me he was making arrangements." 
 
 " It is good," said the President ; " he 
 knows his own safety is involved. Where 
 do I dine to-night ? " 
 
 " With Senor Louvet, at the Home Office, 
 an official dinner." 
 
138 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 " How detestable ! Still he has a plain 
 cook and he will be worth watching to- 
 night. He gets in such a state of terror 
 when Savrola holds forth that he is ridicu- 
 lous. I hate cowards, but they make the 
 world the merrier." 
 
 He bade the Secretary good-night and left 
 the room. Outside he met Lucile. " Dear- 
 est," he said, " I am dining out to-night, an 
 oflScial dinner at Louvet's. It is a nuisance, 
 but I must go. Perhaps I shall not be back 
 till late. I am sorry to leave you like this,' 
 but in these busy days I can hardly call my 
 soul my own." 
 
 " Never mind, Antonio," she replied ; " I 
 know how you are pressed with work. What 
 has happened about the English affair ? " 
 
 " I don't like the situation at all," said 
 Molara. " They have a Jingo Government 
 in power and have sent ships as an answer 
 to our note. It is most unfortunate. Now 
 I have to send the fleet away, — at such a 
 moment." He groaned moodily. 
 
 " I told Sir Richard that we had to think 
 of the situation here, and that the despatch 
 
THE ADMIRAL. 139 
 
 was meant for domestic purposes," said 
 Lucile. 
 
 " I think," said the President, " that the 
 English Government also have to keep the 
 electorate amused. It is a Conservative min- 
 istry; they must keep things going abroad 
 to divert the public mind from advanced 
 legislation. What, more still, Miguel ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; this bag has just arrived, with 
 several important despatches which require 
 your immediate attention." 
 
 The President looked for a moment as if 
 he would like to tell Miguel to take himself 
 and his despatches to the infernal regions; 
 but he repressed the inclination. " Good, I 
 will come. I shall see you at breakfast to- 
 morrow, my dear, till then, farewell," and giv- 
 ing her a weary smile he walked off. 
 
 Thus it is that great men enjoy the power 
 they risk their lives to gain and often meet 
 their deaths to hold. 
 
 Lucile was left alone, not for the first time 
 when she had wanted companionship and 
 sympathy. She was conscious of an unsat- 
 isfactory sensation with regard to existence 
 
140 THE ADMIRAL. 
 
 generally. It was one of those moments 
 when the prizes and penalties of life seem 
 equally stale and futile. She sought refuge 
 in excitement. The project she had con- 
 ceived the night before began to take actual 
 shape in her mind ; yes, she would hear him 
 speak. Going to her room she rang the 
 bell. The maid came quickly. " What time 
 is the meeting to-night ? " 
 
 " At eight, Your Excellency," said the girl. 
 
 " You have a ticket for it ? " 
 
 "Yes, my brother " 
 
 " Well, give it to me ; I want to hear this 
 man speak. He will attack the Government ; 
 I must be there to report to the President," 
 
 The maid looked astonished, but gave up 
 the ticket meekly. For six years she had 
 been Lucile's maid, and was devoted to her 
 young and beautiful mistress. " What will 
 Your Excellency wear ? " was her only remark. 
 
 " Something dark, with a thick veil," said 
 Lucile. " Don't speak of this to anyone." 
 
 "Oh no, Your Ex " 
 
 " Not even to your brother." 
 
 " Oh, no, Your Excellency." 
 
THE ADMIRAL. I4I 
 
 "Say I have a headache and have gone 
 to bed. You must go to your room yourself." 
 
 The maid hurried off to get the dress and 
 bonnet. Lucile felt full of the nervous ex- 
 citement her resolve had raised. It was an 
 adventure, it would be an experience, more 
 than that, she would see him. The crowd, 
 — when she thought of them she felt a little 
 frightened, but then she remembered that 
 women frequently went to these demonstra- 
 tions, and there would be plenty of police 
 to keep order. She dressed herself hastily 
 in the clothes that the maid brought, and 
 descending the stairs, entered the garden. 
 It was already dusk, but Lucile had no diffi- 
 culty in finding her way to d, small private 
 gate in the wall, which her key unlocked. 
 
 She stepped into the street. All was very 
 quiet. The gas lamps flared in a long double 
 row till they almost met in the distant per- 
 spective. A few people were hurrying in 
 the direction of the City-Hall. She followed 
 them. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 The City-Hall was a gigantic meeting- 
 house in which for many years all the pub- 
 lic discussions of the Lauranian people had 
 taken place. Its stone fagade was showy 
 and pretentious, but the building itself con- 
 sisted merely of the great hall and of a 
 few smaller rooms and offices. The hall 
 was capable of holding nearly seven thou- 
 sand people ; with its white-washed roof 
 sustained by iron girders, and well lit with 
 gas, it served its purpose well without any 
 affectation of display. 
 
 Lucile was caught in the stream of those 
 who were entering and carried inside. She 
 had expected to find a seat, but, in view 
 of a great crowd, all the chairs had been 
 removed from the body of the hall, and 
 only standing room remained. In this solid 
 mass of humanity she found herself an 
 
 142 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. I43 
 
 atom. To move was difiBcult; to go back 
 almost impossible. 
 
 It was a striking scene. The hall, which 
 was hung with flags, was crowded to over- 
 flowing; a long gallery, which ran round 
 three sides, was densely packed to the very 
 ceiling; the flaring gas-jets threw their yel- 
 low light on thousands of faces. The large 
 majority of the audience were men, but 
 Lucile noticed with relief that there were 
 several women present. A platform at the 
 far end of the hall displayed the customary 
 table and the inevitable glass of water. In 
 front of the platform were two long rows 
 of reporters, getting their pads and pencils 
 ready, — a kind of orchestra. Behind and 
 above were again rows and rows of chairs 
 filled by the numerous delegates, ofiicials, 
 and secretaries of the various political clubs 
 and organisations, each distinguished by the 
 badge and sash of his society. Moret had 
 exerted himself to whip up the utmost power 
 of the Party, and had certainly succeeded in 
 organising the greatest demonstration Lau- 
 rania had ever seen. All the political forces 
 
144 "^^^ WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 arrayed against the Government were repre- 
 sented. 
 
 There was a loud hum of conversation, 
 broken at intervals by cheers and the cho- 
 ruses of patriotic songs. Suddenly the clock 
 in the tower of the building chimed the 
 hour. At the same instant, from a doorway 
 on the right of the platform, Savrola en- 
 tered, followed by Godoy, Moret, Renos, 
 and several other prominent leaders of the 
 movement. He made his way along the 
 row of chairs, until he reached that on 
 the right of the table, sat down and looked 
 quietly about him. There was a storm of 
 discordant shouting, no two men seeming 
 to hold the same opinion. At one moment 
 it sounded as if all were cheering; at an- 
 other hoots and groans obtained the su- 
 premacy. The meeting in fact was about 
 equally divided. The extreme sections of 
 the Reform' Party, regarding Savrola's at- 
 tendance at the ball as an action of the 
 grossest treachery, howled with fury at 
 him; the more moderate cheered him as 
 the safest man to cling to in times of civil 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAlVr. I45 
 
 disturbance. The delegates and regular 
 officials, who occupied the chairs on the 
 platform, were silent and sullen, like men 
 who await an explanation without belief 
 in its sufficiency. 
 
 At length the shouting ceased. Godoy, 
 who was in the chair, rose and made a 
 short speech, in which he studiously avoided 
 any contentious allusion to Savrola, confin- 
 ing himself only to the progress of the 
 movement. He spoke well and clearly, but 
 nobody wanted to hear him, and all were 
 relieved when he concluded by calling upon 
 "our leader," Savrola, to address the meet- 
 ing. Savrola, who had been talking un- 
 concernedly with one of the delegates on 
 his right, turned round quickly towards the 
 audience, and rose. As he did so, a man in 
 a blue suit, one of a little group similarly 
 clad, shouted out, " Traitor and toady ! " 
 Hundreds of voices took up the cry ; there 
 was an outburst of hooting and groaning; 
 others cheered half-heartedly. It was an 
 unpromising reception. Moret looked around 
 him in blank despair. 
 
146 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 In spite of the heat and the pressure, 
 Lucile could not take her eyes off Savrola. 
 She could see that he was quivering with 
 suppressed excitement. His composure had 
 merely been assumed; crowds stirred his 
 blood, and when he rose he could wear his 
 mask no longer. He looked almost terrible, 
 as he waited there, facing the outburst with 
 defiance written in every line of his pale, 
 earnest face and resolute figure. Then he 
 began to speak, but his words could not at 
 first be distinguished through the persistent 
 shouts of the man in blue and his friends. 
 At length, after five minutes of intense 
 disorder, the curiosity of the audience tri- 
 umphed over all other emotions, and they 
 generally sank into silence, to hear what 
 their leader had to say. 
 
 Again Savrola began. Though he spoke 
 very quietly and slowly, his words reached 
 the furthest ends of the hall. He showed, 
 or perhaps he feigned, some nervousness at 
 first, and here and there in his sentences 
 he paused as if searching for a word. He 
 was surprised, he said, at his reception. ' He 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 147 
 
 had not expected, now when the final result 
 was so nearly attained, that the people of 
 Laurania would change their minds. The 
 man in blue began to howl his odious cry. 
 There was another outbreak of hooting ; 
 but the majority of the audience were now 
 anxious to listen, and silence was soon 
 restored. Savrola continued. He briefly 
 reviewed the events of the last year: the 
 struggle they had had to form a party 
 at all; the fierce opposition they had en- 
 countered and sustained; the success that 
 had attended their threat of taking arms; 
 the President's promise of a free Parliament; 
 the trick that had been played on them ; the 
 firing of the soldiery on the crowd. His 
 earnest, thoughtful words evoked a hum of 
 approval. These were events in which the 
 audience had participated, and they liked 
 having them recalled to their memories. 
 
 Then he went on to speak of the Depu- 
 tation and of the contempt with which the 
 President had thought fit to treat the 
 accredited representatives of the citizens. 
 " Traitor and toady ! " shouted the man 
 
148 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 in blue loudly ; but there was no response. 
 " And," said Savrola, " I will invite your at- 
 tention to this further matter. It has not 
 been sufficient to strangle the Press, to shoot 
 down the people, and to subvert the Consti- 
 tution, but even when we are assembled here 
 in accordance with our unquestioned right 
 to discuss matters of State and decide upon 
 our public policies, our deliberations are to 
 be interrupted by the paid agents of the 
 Government," — he looked towards the man 
 in blue, and there was an angry hum — "who 
 insult by their abusive cries not only myself, 
 a free Lauranian, but you also, the assem- 
 bled citizens who have invited me to place 
 my views before you." Here the audience 
 broke out into indignant applause and agree- 
 ment ; cries of " Shame ! " were heard, and 
 fierce looks turned in the direction of the 
 interrupters, who had, however, dispersed 
 themselves unobtrusively among the crowd. 
 " In spite of such tactics," Savrola continued, 
 " and in the face of all opposition, whether 
 by bribes or bullets, whether by hired 
 bravos or a merciless and mercenary sol- 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 1 49 
 
 diery, the great cause we are here to sup- 
 port has gone on, is going on, and is going 
 to go on, until at length our ancient liberties 
 are regained, and those who have robbed 
 us of them punished." Loud cheers rose 
 from all parts of the hall. His voice was 
 even and not loud, but his words conveyed 
 an impression of dauntless resolution. 
 
 And then, having got his audience in 
 hand, he turned his powers of ridicule upon 
 the President and his colleagues. Every 
 point he made was received with cheers and 
 laughter. He spoke of Louvet, of his cour- 
 age, and of his trust in the people. Per- 
 haps, he said, it was not inappropriate that 
 the Ministry of the Interior should be filled 
 by " a glutton," the Home Office by a " stay- 
 at-home " who was afraid to go out among 
 his countrymen at night. Louvet was in- 
 deed a good object for abuse ; he was hated 
 by the people, who despised his cowardice 
 and had always jeered at him, Savrola con- 
 tinued. He described the President as cling- 
 ing to office at whatever cost to himself or 
 others. In order to draw the attention of 
 
150 THE WAND OF THE MAGICrAN. 
 
 the people from his tyrannical actions and 
 despotic government at home, he had tried 
 to involve them in complications abroad, 
 and he had succeeded, more completely than 
 he had bargained for. They were embroiled 
 now in a dispute with a great Power, a dis- 
 pute from which they had nothing to gain 
 and everything to lose. Their fleets and 
 armies must be despatched, to the cost of 
 the State; their possessions were endan- 
 gered ; perhaps the lives of their soldiers 
 and sailors would be sacrificed. And all for 
 what } In order that Antonio Molara might 
 do as he had declared he would, and die at the 
 head of the State. It was a bad joke. But 
 he should be warned ; many a true word was 
 spoken in jest. Again there was a fierce hum. 
 Lucile listened spell-bound. When he 
 had risen, amid the groans and hisses of 
 that great crowd, she had sympathised with 
 him, had feared even for his life, had won- 
 dered at the strange courage which made 
 him attempt the seemingly impossible task 
 of convincing such an audience. As he had 
 progressed and had begun to gain power and 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. I5I 
 
 approval, she had rejoiced ; every cheer had 
 given her pleasure. She had silently joined 
 in the indignation which the crowd had 
 expressed against Sorrento's police-agents. 
 Now he was attacking her husband ; and 
 yet she hardly seemed to feel an emotion 
 of antagonism. 
 
 He left the subject of the Ministers with 
 contemptuous scorn, amid the earnest assent 
 of the audience and on the full tide of pub- 
 lic opinion. They must now, he said, treat 
 of higher matters. He invited them to con- 
 sider the ideals at which they aimed. Hav- 
 ing roused their tempers, he withheld from 
 them the outburst of fury and enthusiasm 
 they desired. As he spoke of the hopes of 
 happiness to which even the most miserable 
 of human beings had a right, silence reigned 
 throughout the hall, broken only by that 
 grave melodious voice which appealed to 
 everyone. For more than three quarters 
 of an hour he discussed social and financial 
 reforms. Sound practical common sense 
 was expressed with many a happy instance, 
 many a witty analogy, many a lofty and 
 luminous thought. 
 
152 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 "When I look at this beautiful country 
 that is ours and was our fathers before us, 
 at its blue seas and snow-capped moun- 
 tains, at its comfortable hamlets and wealthy 
 cities, at its silver streams and golden corn- 
 fields, I marvel at the irony of fate which 
 has struck across so fair a prospect the dark 
 shadow of a military despotism." 
 
 The sound of momentous resolution rose 
 again from the crowded hall. He had held 
 their enthusiasm back for an hour by the 
 clock. The steam had been rising all this 
 time. All were searching in their minds for 
 something to relieve their feelings, to give 
 expression to the individual determination 
 each man had made. There was only one 
 mind throughout the hall. His passions, his 
 emotions, his very soul appeared to be com- 
 municated to the seven thousand people who 
 heard his words; and they mutually inspired 
 each other. 
 
 Then at last he let them go. For the first 
 time he raised his voice, and in a resonant, 
 powerful, penetrating tone which thrilled the 
 listeners, began the peroration of his speech. 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 1 53 
 
 The effect of his change of manner was 
 electrical. Each short sentence was followed 
 by wild cheering. The excitement of the 
 audience became indescribable. Everyone 
 was carried away by it. Lucile was borne 
 along, unresisting, by that strong torrent of 
 enthusiasm; her interests, her objects, her 
 ambitions, her husband, all were forgotten. 
 His sentences grew longer, more rolling and 
 sonorous. At length he reached the last of 
 those cumulative periods which pile argu- 
 ment on argument as Pelion on Ossa. All 
 pointed to an inevitable conclusion. The 
 people saw it coming and when the last 
 words fell, they were greeted with thunders 
 of assent. 
 
 Then he sat down, drank some water, and 
 pressed his hands to his head. The strain had 
 been terrific. He was convulsed by his own 
 emotions ; . every pulse in his body was throb- 
 bing, every nerve quivering; he streamed 
 with perspiration and almost gasped for 
 breath. For five minutes everyone shouted 
 wildly ; the delegates on the platform mounted 
 their chairs and waved their arms. At his 
 
154 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 suggestion the great crowd would have sal- 
 lied into the streets and marched on the 
 palace; and it would have taken many bul- 
 lets from the soldiers that Sorrento had so 
 carefully posted to bring them back to the 
 realisation of the squalid materialities of life. 
 
 The resolutions which Moret and Godoy 
 proposed were carried by acclamation, Sav- 
 rola turned to the former. " Well, Louis, 
 I was right. How did it sound? I liked 
 the last words. It is the best speech I have 
 ever made." 
 
 Moret looked at him as at a god. " Splen- 
 did ! " he said. " You have saved everything." 
 
 And now the meeting began to break 
 up. Savrola walked to a side-door, and in 
 a small waiting-room received the congratu- 
 lations of all his principal supporters and 
 friends. Lucile was hurried along in the 
 press. Presently there was a block. Two 
 men, of foreign aspect, stood in front of her, 
 speaking in low tones. 
 
 " Brave words, Karl," said one. 
 
 " Ah," said the other, " we must have deeds. 
 He is a good tool to work with at present; 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 1 55 
 
 the time will come when we shall need some- 
 thing sharper." 
 
 "He has great power." 
 
 " Yes, but he is not of us. He has no 
 sympathy with the cause. What does he 
 care about a community of goods ? " 
 
 " For my part," said the first man with 
 an ugly laugh, " I have always been more at- 
 tracted by the idea of a community of wives." 
 
 " Well, that too is part of the great scheme 
 of society." 
 
 " When you deal them out, Karl, put me 
 down as part proprietor of the President's." 
 
 He chuckled coarsely. Lucile shuddered. 
 Here were the influences behind and be- 
 neath the great Democrat of which her hus- 
 band had spoken. 
 
 The human stream began to flow on again. 
 Lucile was carried by a current down a side 
 street which led to the doorway by which 
 Savrola would leave the hall. A bright gas- 
 lamp made everything plainly visible. At 
 length he appeared at the top of the steps, at 
 the foot of which his carriage had already 
 drawn up to receive him. The narrow street 
 
156 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 was filled with the crowd ; the pressure was 
 severe. 
 
 " Louis, come with me," said Savrola to 
 Moret ; " you can drop me and take the car- 
 riage on." Like many highly-wrought minds 
 he yearned for sympathy and praise at such 
 a moment ; and he knew he would get them 
 from Moret. 
 
 The throng, on seeing him, surged for- 
 ward. Lucile, carried off her feet, was 
 pushed into a dark burly man in front of 
 her. Chivalrous gallantry is not among the 
 peculiar characteristics of excited democracy. 
 Without looking round the man jobbed back- 
 wards with his elbow and struck her in the 
 breast. The pain was intense ; involuntarily 
 she screamed. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Savrola, " a woman 
 has been hurt; I heard her voice. Give 
 room there ! " He ran down the steps. The 
 crowd opened out. A dozen eager and offi- 
 cious hands were extended to assist Lucile, 
 who was paralysed with terror. She would 
 be recognised; the consequences were too 
 awful to be thought of. 
 
THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN, 1 57 
 
 " Bring her in here," said Savrola. " Moret, 
 help me." He half carried, half supported 
 her up the steps into the small waiting-room. 
 Godoy, Renos, and half a dozen of the 
 Democratic leaders, who had been discuss- 
 ing the speech, grouped themselves around 
 her curiously. He placed her in a chair. 
 " A glass of water," he said quickly. Some- 
 body handed him one, and he turned to offer 
 it to her. Lucile, incapable of speech or 
 motion, saw no way of escape. He must 
 recognise her. The ridicule, the taunts, the 
 danger, all were plain to her. As she made 
 a feeble effort with her hand to decline the 
 water, Savrola looked hard at her through 
 her thick veil. Suddenly he started, spilling 
 the water he was holding out to her. He 
 knew her then ! Now it would come — a 
 terrible exposure ! 
 
 " Why, Mirette," he cried, " my little niece ! 
 How could you come alone to such a crowded 
 place at night ? To hear my speech ? Godoy, 
 Renos, this is indeed a tribute ! This means 
 more to me than all the cheers of the people. 
 Here is my sister's daughter who has risked 
 
158 THE WAND OF THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 the crowd to come and hear me speak. But 
 your mother," he turned to Lucile, " should 
 never have allowed you ; this is no place for 
 a girl alone. I must take you home. You 
 are not hurt? If you had asked me, I could 
 have ensured a seat for you out of the crowd. 
 Is my carriage. there? Good, we had better 
 get home at once ; your mother will be very 
 anxious. Good-night, gentlemen. Come, my 
 dear." He offered her his arm and led her 
 down the steps. The people who filled the 
 street, their upturned faces pale in the gas- 
 light, cheered wildly. He put her into his 
 carriage. " Drive on, coachman," he said, 
 getting in himself. 
 
 " Where to. Sir ? " asked the man. 
 
 Moret advanced to the carriage. " I will 
 go on the box," he said. " I can take the 
 carriage on after dropping you," and before 
 Savrola could say a word he had climbed on 
 to the seat beside the driver. 
 
 "Where to, Sir?" repeated the coachman. 
 
 " Home," said Savrola desperately. 
 
 The carriage started, passed through the 
 cheering crowds, and out into the less fre- 
 quented parts of the city. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 LuciLE lay back in the cushions of the 
 brougham with a feeling of intense relief. 
 He had saved her. An emotion of grati- 
 tude filled her mind, and on the impulse 
 of the moment she took his hand and 
 pressed it. It was the third time in their 
 renewed acquaintance that their hands had 
 met, and each time the significance had 
 been different. 
 
 Savrola smiled. " It was most imprudent 
 of your Excellency to venture into a crowd 
 like that. Luckily I thought of an expedi- 
 ent in time. I trust you were not hurt in 
 the throng?" 
 
 " No," said Lucile ; " a man struck me 
 with his elbow and I screamed. I should 
 never have come." 
 
 " It was dangerous." 
 
 "I wanted to " She paused. 
 
 '59 
 
l60 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 " To hear me speak," he added, finishing 
 her sentence for her. 
 
 " Yes ; to see you use your power." 
 
 " I am flattered by the interest you take 
 in me." 
 
 " Oh, it was on purely poHtical grounds." 
 
 There was the suspicion of a smile on 
 her face. He looked at her quickly. What 
 did she mean ? Why should it be neces- 
 sary to say so.? Her mind had contem- 
 plated another reason, then. 
 
 " I hope you were not bored," he said. 
 
 " It is terrible to have power like that," 
 she replied earnestly; and then after a 
 pause, " Where are we going to ? " 
 
 " I would have driven you to the palace," 
 said Savrola, "but our ingenuous young 
 friend on the box has made it necessary 
 that we should keep up this farce for a 
 little longer. It will be necessary to get 
 rid of him. For the present you had best 
 remain my niece." 
 
 She looked up at him with an amused 
 smile, and then said seriously : " It was 
 brilliant of you to have thought of it, and 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. l6l 
 
 noble of you to have carried it out. I shall 
 never forget it; you have done me a great 
 service." 
 
 " Here we are," said Savrola at length, as 
 the brougham drew up at the entrance of 
 his house. He opened the carriage-door; 
 Moret jumped off the box and rang the 
 bell. After a pause the old housekeeper 
 opened the door. Savrola called to her. 
 " Ah, Bettine, I am glad you are up. Here 
 is my niece, who has been to the meeting to 
 hear me speak and has been jostled by the 
 crowd. I shall not let her go home alone 
 to-night. Have you a bedroom ready ? " 
 
 " There is the spare room on the first 
 floor," answered the old woman; "but I 
 fear that would never do." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Savrola quickly. 
 
 " Because the sheets for the big bed are 
 not aired, and since the chimney was swept 
 there has been no fire there." 
 
 " Oh, well, you must try and do what you 
 can. GoOd-night, Moret. Will you send the 
 carriage back as soon as you have done 
 with it.'* I have some notes to send to 
 
1 62 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 The Rising Tide office about the articles 
 for to-morrow morning. Don't forget, — as 
 quickly as you can, for I am tired out." 
 
 " Good-night," said Moret. " You have 
 made the finest speech of your life. Noth- 
 ing can stop us while we have you to lead 
 the way." 
 
 He got into the carriage and drove off. 
 Savrola and Lucile ascended the stairs to 
 the sitting-room, while the housekeeper bus- 
 tled off to make preparations for the airing 
 of sheets and pillow-cases. Lucile looked 
 round the room with interest and curiosity. 
 " I am in the heart of the enemy's camp 
 now," she said. 
 
 " You will be in many hearts during 
 your life," said Savrola, " whether you re- 
 main a queen or not." 
 
 " You are still determined to drive us 
 out?" 
 
 " You heard what I said to-night." 
 
 " I ought to hate you," said Lucile ; " and 
 yet I don't feel that we are enemies." 
 
 " We are on opposite sides," he replied. 
 
 " Only politics come between us." 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 1 63 
 
 " Politics and persons," he added signifi- 
 cantly, using a hackneyed phrase. 
 
 She looked at him with a startled glance. 
 What did he mean.? Had he read deeper 
 into her heart than she herself had dared to 
 look? "Where does that door lead to.?" 
 she asked irrelevantly. 
 
 " That } It leads to the roof, — to my 
 observatory." 
 
 " Oh show it me," she cried. " Is it there 
 you watch the stars ? " 
 
 " I often look at them. I love them ; 
 they are full of suggestions and ideas." 
 
 He unlocked the door and led the way up 
 the narrow winding stairs on to the plat- 
 form. It was, as is usual in Laurania, a de- 
 licious night. Lucile walked to the parapet 
 and looked over; all the lamps of the 
 town twinkled beneath, and above were the 
 stars. 
 
 Suddenly, far out in the harbour, a broad 
 white beam of light shot out; it was the 
 search-light of a warship. For a moment it. 
 swept along the military mole and rested on 
 the battery at the mouth of the channel. 
 
1 64 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 The fleet was leaving the port, and picking 
 its way through the difficult passage. 
 
 Savrola had been informed of the ap- 
 proaching departure of the admiral, and 
 realised at once the meaning of what he 
 saw. "That," he said, "may precipitate 
 matters." 
 
 " You mean that when the ships are gone 
 you will no longer fear to rise .-' " 
 
 " I do not fear ; but it is better to await a 
 good moment." 
 
 " And that moment ? " 
 
 " Is perhaps imminent. I should like you 
 to leave the capital. It will be no place for 
 women in a few days. Your husband knows 
 it; why has he not sent you away to the 
 country ? " 
 
 " Because," she replied, " we shall suppress 
 this revolt, and punish those who have caused 
 it." 
 
 " Have no illusions," said Savrola. " I 
 do not miscalculate. The army cannot be 
 trusted; the fleet is gone; the people are 
 determined. It will not be safe for you to 
 stay here. " 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 1 65 
 
 " I will not be driven out," she answered 
 with energy ; " nothing shall make me fly. 
 I will perish with my husband." 
 
 " Oh, we shall try to be much more prosaic 
 than that," he said. " We shall offer a very 
 handsome pension to the President, and he 
 will retire with his beautiful wife to some 
 gay and peaceful city, where he can enjoy 
 life without depriving others of liberty." 
 
 " You think you can do all this ? " she 
 cried. "Your power can rouse the multi- 
 tude ; but can you restrain them ? " And 
 she told him of the words she had heard in 
 the crowd that night. " Are you not play- 
 ing with mighty forces ? " 
 
 "Yes, I am," he said; "and that is why 
 I have asked you to go away to the country 
 for a few days, until things become settled 
 one way or the other. It is possible that 
 either I or your husband will go down. 
 I shall of course try to save him, if we 
 are successful; but, as you say, there are 
 other forces which may be beyond control ; 
 and if he gets the upper hand " 
 
 "Well.?" 
 
1 66 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 " I suppose I should be shot." 
 
 " Fearful ! " she said. " Why will you 
 persist ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is only now, when the play is 
 growing high, that I begin to appreciate the 
 game. Besides, death is not very terrible." 
 
 " Afterwards may be." 
 
 " I do not think so. Life, to continue, 
 must show a balance of happiness. Of one 
 thing I feel sure ; we may say of a future 
 state, — ' If any, then better.' " 
 
 " You apply your knowledge of this world 
 to all others." 
 
 " Why not ? " he said. ' " Why should not 
 the same laws hold good all over the uni- 
 verse, and, if possible, beyond it? Other 
 suns, show by their spectra that they con- 
 tain the same elements as ours." 
 
 " You put your faith in the stars," she 
 said doubtingly, " and think, though you 
 will not admit it, they can tell you every- 
 thing." 
 
 " I never accused them of being inter- 
 ested in our concerns; but if they were, 
 they might tell strange tales. Suppos- 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 1 67 
 
 ing they could read our hearts for in- 
 stance ? " 
 
 She glanced up and met his eye. They 
 looked at each other hard. She gasped; 
 whatever the stars might know, they had 
 read each other's secret. 
 
 There was a noise of someone running 
 up-stairs. It was the housekeeper. 
 
 " The carriage has returned," said Savrola 
 in a quiet voice. " It can now take you back 
 to the palace." 
 
 The old woman stepped out on to the 
 roof, breathing hard from her climb. " I 
 have aired the sheets," she said with exul- 
 tation in her voice, " and the fire is burning 
 brightly. There is some soup ready for the 
 young lady, if she will come and take it, be- 
 fore it gets cold." 
 
 The interruption was so commonplace 
 that both Lucile and Savrola laughed. It 
 was a happy escape from an awkward mo- 
 ment. " You always manage, Bettine," he 
 said, " to make everyone comfortable ; but 
 after all the bedroom will not be needed. 
 My niece is afraid lest her mother be alarmed 
 
1 68 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT, 
 
 at her absence, and I am going to send her 
 back in the carriage so soon as it returns." 
 
 The poor old soul looked terribly dis- 
 appointed; the warm sheets, the cosy fire, 
 the hot soup were comforts she loved to 
 prepare for others, enjoying them, as it 
 were, by proxy. She turned away and de- 
 scended the narrow staircase mournfully, 
 leaving them again alone. 
 
 So they sat and talked, not as before, but 
 with full knowledge of their sympathy, while 
 the moon climbed higher in the sky and the 
 soft breezes stirred the foliage of the palm- 
 trees in the garden below. Neither thought 
 much of the future, nor did they blame the 
 coachman's delay. 
 
 At length the silence of the night, and 
 the train of their conversation were broken 
 by the noise of wheels on the stony street. 
 
 " At last," said Savrola without enthu- 
 siasm. Lucile rose and looked over the 
 parapet. A carriage approached almost at 
 a gallop. It stopped suddenly at the door, 
 and a man jumped out in a hurry. The 
 door-bell rang loudly. 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 1 69 
 
 Savrola took both her hands. " We must 
 part," he said ; " when shall we meet again, 
 — Lucile?" 
 
 She made no answer, nor did the moon- 
 light betray the expression of her features. 
 Savrola led the way down the stairs. As 
 he entered the sitting-room, the further door 
 was opened hastily by a man who, seeing 
 Savrola, stopped short, and respectfully took 
 off his hat. It was Moret's servant. 
 
 With considerable presence of mind Sav- 
 rola shut the door behind him, leaving Lu- 
 cile in the darkness of the staircase. She 
 waited in astonishment ; the door was thin. 
 " My master. Sir," said a stranger's voice, 
 " bade me bring you this with all speed and 
 give it direct into your hand." There fol- 
 lowed the tearing of paper, a pause, an 
 exclamation, and then Savrola, in a voice 
 steady with the steadiness which betrays in- 
 tense emotion under control, replied: " Thank 
 you very much ; say I shall await them here. 
 Don't take the carriage ; go on foot, — stay, 
 I will let you out myself." 
 She heard the other door open and the 
 
lyo IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 sound of their footsteps going down-stairs ; 
 then she turned the handle and entered. 
 Something had happened, something sud- 
 den, unexpected, momentous. His voice, 
 — strange how well she was beginning to 
 know it ! — had told her that. An envelope 
 lay on the floor ; on the table, — the table 
 where the cigarette-box and the revolver lay 
 side by side, — was a paper, half curled up 
 as if anxious to preserve its secret. 
 
 Subtle, various, and complex are the springs 
 of human action. She felt the paper touched 
 her nearly; she knew it concerned him. 
 Their interests were antagonistic ; yet she 
 did not know whether it was for his sake or 
 her own that she was impelled to indulge a 
 wild curiosity. She smoothed the paper out. 
 It was brief and in a hurried hand, but to the 
 point : Code wire just received says, Strelitz 
 crossed fro7itier this morning with two thou- 
 sand men and is marching hither via Turga 
 and Lorenzo. The hour has come. I have 
 sent to Godoy and Renos and will bring them, 
 round at once. Yours through hell, Moret. 
 
 Lucile felt the blood run to her heart; 
 
IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 171 
 
 already she imagined the sound of musketry. 
 It was true the hour had come. The fatal 
 paper fascinated her ; she could not take her 
 eyes from it. Suddenly the door opened and 
 Savrola came in. The noise, her agitation, 
 and above all the sense of detection wrung 
 from her a low, short, startled scream. He 
 grasped the situation immediately. " Blue- 
 beard," he said ironically. 
 
 "Treason," she retorted taking refuge in 
 furious anger. " So you will rise and mur- 
 der us in the night, — conspirator ! " 
 
 Savrola smiled suavely; his composure 
 was again perfect. " I have sent the messen- 
 ger away on foot, and the carriage is at your 
 disposal. We have talked long; it is now 
 three o'clock ; your Excellency should not 
 further delay your return to the palace. It 
 would be most imprudent; besides, as you 
 will realise, I expect visitors." 
 
 His calmness maddened her. " Yes," she 
 retorted ; " the President will send you some, 
 — police." 
 
 " He will not know about the invasion 
 yet." 
 
172 IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 " I shall tell him," she replied. 
 
 Savrola laughed softly. " Oh no," he said, 
 " that would not be fair." 
 
 " All's fair in love and war." 
 
 "And this ?" 
 
 " Is both," she said, and then burst into 
 tears. 
 
 After that they went down-stairs. Savrola 
 helped her into the carriage. " Good-night," 
 he said, though it was already morning, " and 
 good-bye." 
 
 But Lucile, not knowing what to say or 
 think or do, continued to cry inconsolably 
 and the carriage drove away. Savrola closed 
 the door and returned to his room. He did 
 not feel his secret was in any danger. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 Savrola had scarcely time to smoke a 
 cigarette before the Revolutionary leaders 
 began to arrive. Moret was the first ; he 
 rang the bell violently, stamping about on 
 the doorstep till it was answered, ran up- 
 stairs three steps at a time, and burst impetu- 
 ously into the room, aquiver with excitement. 
 "Ah," he cried, "the hour has come, — not 
 words but deeds now ! We draw the sword 
 in a good cause; for my part I shall fling 
 away the scabbard ; Fortune is on our side." 
 
 " Yes," said Savrola ; " have some whisky 
 and soda-water, — on the sideboard there. It 
 is a good drink to draw the sword on, — the 
 best in fact," 
 
 Moret somewhat abashed turned and walk- 
 ing to the table began opening a soda-water 
 bottle. As he poured out the spirit the 
 clinking of glass and bottle betrayed his agi- 
 
 «73 
 
174 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 tation. Savrola laughed softly. Turning 
 swiftly, his impetuous follower sought to 
 hide his agitation by a fresh outburst. " I 
 have told you throughout," he said, holding 
 his glass on high, " that force was the only 
 solution. It has come, as I predicted. I 
 drink to it, — war, civil war, battle, murder, 
 and sudden death, — by these means liberty 
 will be regained ! " 
 
 " Wonderful soothing effect these ciga- 
 rettes have. There's no opium in them 
 either, — soft, fresh Egyptians. I get them 
 every week from Cairo. A little, old man I 
 met thef-e three years ago makes them, — 
 Abdullah Rachouan." 
 
 He held out the box. Moret took one; 
 the business of lighting it steadied him ; he 
 sat down and began to smoke furiously. 
 Savrola watched him in dreamy calmness, 
 looking often at the smoke-wreathes that 
 rose about him. Presently he spoke. " So 
 you are glad there is to be war and that 
 people are to be killed.?" 
 
 "I am glad that this tyranny is to be 
 ended." 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 1 75 
 
 " Remember that we pay for every pleasure 
 and every triumph we have in this world." 
 
 " I will take my chance." 
 
 " I trust, I would be glad if I could say 
 with conviction, I pray, that the lot may not 
 fall on you. But it is true nevertheless that 
 we must pay, and for all the good things in 
 life men pay in advance. The principles of 
 sound finance apply." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " asked Moret. 
 
 " Would you rise in the world ? You must 
 work while others amuse themselves. Are 
 you desirous of a reputation for courage.? 
 You must risk your life. Would you be 
 strong morally or physically? You must 
 resist temptations. All this is paying in 
 advance ; that is prospective finance. Ob- 
 serve the other side of the picture ; the bad 
 things are paid for afterwards." 
 
 " Not always." 
 
 " Yes, as surely as the headache of Sunday 
 morning follows the debauch of Saturday 
 night, as an idle youth is requited by a bar- 
 ren age, as a gluttonous appetite promotes 
 an ungainly paunch." 
 
176 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 " And you think I shall have to pay for 
 . this excitement and enthusiasm ? You think 
 I have paid nothing so far ? " 
 
 " You will have to take risks, that is pay- 
 ing. Fate will often throw double or quits. 
 But on these hazards men should not embark 
 with levity; the gentleman will always think 
 of settling-day." 
 
 Moret was silent. Brave and impetuous 
 as he was, the conversation chilled him. 
 His was not the courage of the Stoic ; he 
 had not schooled himself to contemplate the 
 shock of dissolution. He fixed his thoughts 
 on the struggles and hopes of the world, 
 as one might look at the flowers and 
 grasses that were growing on the edge of 
 a precipice towards which he was being 
 impelled. 
 
 They remained for a few moments without 
 speaking, till Godoy and Renos entered, hav- 
 ing arrived simultaneously. 
 
 Each man of the four had taken the news, 
 which meant so much to them, according to 
 their natures. Savrola had put on the armour 
 of his philosophy, and gazed on the world as 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 1 77 
 
 from a distance. Moret had been convulsed 
 with excitement. The other two, neither 
 composed nor elated by the proximity and 
 the approach of danger, showed that they 
 were not the men for stirring times. 
 
 Savrola greeted them amiably, and all sat 
 down. Renos was crushed. The heavy 
 hammer of action had fallen on the delicate 
 structures of precedent and technicality in 
 which he had always trusted, and smashed 
 them flat. Now that the crisis had arrived, 
 the law, his shield and buckler, was first of 
 all to be thrown away. " Why has he done 
 this.?" he asked. "What right had he to 
 come without authorisation ? He has com- 
 mitted us all. What can we do ? " 
 
 Godoy too was shocked and frightened. 
 He was one of those men who fear danger, 
 who shrink from it, but yet embark delib- 
 erately on courses which they know must 
 lead to it. He had long foreseen the mo- 
 ment of revolt, but had persisted in going 
 on. Now it was upon him, and he trembled; 
 still, his dignity strengthened him, 
 
 " What is to be done, Savrola ? " he asked, 
 
178 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 turning instinctively to the greater soul and 
 stronger mind. 
 
 "Well," said the leader, "they had no 
 business to come without my orders; they 
 have, as Renos has observed, committed us, 
 while our plans are in some respects incom- 
 plete. Strelitz has disobeyed me flatly; I 
 will settle with him later. For the present, 
 recriminations are futile ; we have to deal 
 with the situation. The President will know 
 of the invasion in the morning ; some of the 
 troops here will, I take it, be ordered to 
 strengthen the Government forces in the 
 field. Perhaps the Guard will be sent. I 
 think the others would refuse to march ; 
 they are thoroughly in sympathy with the 
 Cause. If so we must strike, much as we 
 have arranged. You, Moret, will call the 
 people to arms. The Proclamation must be 
 printed, the rifles served out, the Revolution 
 proclaimed. All the Delegates must be noti- 
 fied. If the soldiers fraternise, all will be 
 well ; if not, you will have to fight — I don't 
 think there will be much opposition — storm 
 the palace and make Molara prisoner." 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 1 79 
 
 "It shall be done," said Moret. 
 
 " Meanwhile," continued Savrola, " we will 
 proclaim the Provisional Government at the 
 Mayoralty. Thence I shall send you orders ; 
 thither you must send me reports. All this 
 will happen the day after to-morrow." 
 
 Godoy shivered, but assented. " Yes," he 
 said ; " it is the only course, except flight and 
 ruin." 
 
 " Very well ; now we will go into details. 
 First of all, the Proclamation. I will write 
 that to-night. Moret, you must get it 
 printed; you shall have it at six o'clock 
 to-morrow morning. Then prepare the ar- 
 rangements we had devised for assembling 
 and arming the people; wait till you get a 
 written order from me to put them into 
 action. You, Renos, must see the members 
 of the Provisional Government. Have the 
 constitution of the Council of Public Safety 
 printed, and be ready to circulate it to- 
 morrow night ; yet again, wait till I give 
 the word. Much depends on the attitude of 
 the troops; but everything is really ready, I 
 do not think we need fear the result." 
 
l8o A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 The intricate details of the plot, for plot it 
 was, were well known to the leaders of the 
 revolt. For several months they had looked 
 to force as the only means of ending the 
 government they detested. Savrola was 
 not the man to commit himself to such an 
 enterprise without taking every precaution. 
 Nothing had been forgotten ; the machinery 
 of revolution only needed setting in motion. 
 Yet in spite of the elaborate nature of the 
 conspiracy and its great scale, the President 
 and his police had been able to learn nothing 
 definite. They feared that a rising was im- 
 minent; they had realised the danger for 
 some months ; but it was impossible to know 
 where the political agitation ended, and the 
 open sedition began. The great social posi- 
 tion and almost European reputation of the 
 principal leaders had rendered their arrest 
 without certain proof a matter of extreme 
 difficulty. The President, believing that the 
 people would not rise unless spurred thereto 
 by some act of power on the part of the 
 Executive, feared to rouse them. But for 
 this Savrola, Moret, and the others would 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. l8l 
 
 have already filled cells in the State Prison ; 
 indeed, they would have had much to be 
 thankful for had their lives been spared. 
 
 But Savrola understood his position, and 
 had played his game with consummate tact 
 and skill. The great parade he made of 
 the political agitation had prevented the 
 President from observing the conspiracy to 
 deliberate violence which lay beneath. At 
 length the preparations were approaching 
 completion. It had become only a matter 
 of days ; Strelitz's impetuous act had but 
 precipitated the course of events. One 
 corner of the great firework had caught 
 light too soon ; it was necessary to fire the 
 rest lest the effect should be spoiled. 
 
 He continued to go over the details of the 
 scheme for nearly an hour, to make sure 
 that there should be no mistakes. At last 
 all was finished, and the members of the 
 embryo Council of Public Safety took their 
 departure. Savrola let them out himself, 
 not wishing to wake the old nurse. • Poor 
 soul, why should she feel the force of the 
 struggles of ambitious men ? 
 
1 82 A COUNciL OF WAR. 
 
 Moret went off full of enthusiasm ; the 
 others were gloorpy and preoccupied. Their 
 great leader shut the door, and once more 
 that night climbed the stairs to his chamber. 
 
 As he reached it, the first streaks of morn- 
 ing came in through the parted curtains of 
 the windows. The room, in the grey light 
 with its half-empty glasses and full ashtrays, 
 looked like a woman, no longer young, sur- 
 prised by an unsympathetic dawn in the 
 meretricious paints and pomps of the pre- 
 vious night. It was too late to go to bed ,' 
 yet he was tired, weary with that dry kind 
 of fatigue which a man feels when all desire 
 of sleep has passed away. He experienced 
 a sensation of annoyance and depression. 
 Life seemed unsatisfactory; something was 
 lacking. When all deductions had been 
 made on the scores of ambition, duty, excite- 
 ment, or fame, there remained an unabsorbed 
 residuum of pure emptiness. What was the 
 good of it all.? He thought of the silent 
 streets; in a few hours they would echo 
 with the crackle of musketry. Poor broken 
 creatures would be carried bleeding to the 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 1 83 
 
 houses, whose doors terrified women would 
 close in the uncharitable haste of fear. 
 Others, flicked out of human ken from solid 
 concrete earth to unknown, unformulated 
 abstractions, would lie limp and reproach- 
 ful on the paving-stones. And for what.? 
 He could not find an answer to the ques- 
 tion. The apology for his own actions was 
 merged in the much greater apology nature 
 would have to make for the existence of the 
 human species. Well, he might be killed 
 himself ; and as the thought occurred to him 
 he looked forward with a strange curiosity to 
 that sudden change, with perhaps its great 
 revelation. The reflection made him less 
 dissatisfied with the shallow ends of human 
 ambition. When the notes of life ring false, 
 men should correct them by referring to the 
 tuning-fork of death. It is when that clear 
 menacing tone is heard that the love of life 
 grows keenest in the human heart. 
 
 All men, from such moods and reflections, 
 are recalled to earth by hard matters of fact. 
 He remembered the proclamation he had to 
 write, and rising plunged into the numerous 
 
184 A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 details of the business of living, and thus 
 forgot the barrenness of life. So he sat and 
 wrote, while the pale glimmer of the dawn 
 glowed into the clear light of sunrise and 
 the warm tints of broad day. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 The private breakfast-room of the Presi- 
 dential palace was a small but lofty , apart- 
 ment. The walls were hung with tapestries; 
 over the doors weapons of ancient type and 
 history were arranged in elaborate patterns. 
 The great French windows were deeply set 
 in the wall, and the bright light of the morn- 
 ing was softened by heavy crimson curtains. 
 Like the rest of the house it wore an official 
 aspect. The windows opened on to the 
 stone terrace, and those who passed through 
 them experienced a feeling of relief in ex- 
 changing the severe splendours of the palace 
 for the beautiful confusion of the garden, 
 where between the spreading trees and slen- 
 der palms the sparkling waters of the harbour 
 were displayed. 
 
 The table, which was set for two, was 
 comfortably small and well arranged. The 
 
 i8s 
 
1 86 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 generous revenue which it had long been 
 the principle of the Lauranian Republic to 
 bestow on her First Magistrate enabled the 
 President to live in a style of elegance and 
 luxury, and to enjoy the attractions of good 
 silver, fresh-cut flowers, and an excellent 
 cook. But it was with a clouded brow that 
 Molara met his wife at breakfast on the 
 morning after the events which have just 
 been chronicled. 
 
 " Bad news, — tiresome news again, dear," 
 he said as, sitting down and depositing a 
 handful of papers on the table, he signed to 
 the servants to leave the room. 
 
 Lucile experienced a feeling of intense 
 relief. After all she would not have to tell 
 him the secret she had learned. " Has he 
 started ? " she asked incautiously. 
 
 " Yes, last night ; but he will be stopped." 
 
 " Thank heaven for that ! " 
 
 Molara looked at her in amazement. 
 " What do you mean ? Why are you glad 
 that the Admiral and the fleet are prevented 
 from carrying out my orders ? " 
 
 "The fleet!" 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 87 
 
 " Good gracious ! What did you think I 
 meant ? " he asked impatiently. 
 
 A loophole of escape presented itself. 
 She ignored his question. " I am glad the 
 fleet is stopped because I think they will be 
 wanted here, now that the city is so un- 
 settled." 
 
 "Oh," said the President shortly, — sus- 
 piciously, she thought. To cover her retreat 
 she asked a question. "Why are they 
 stopped } " 
 
 Molara pulled out a Press telegram slip 
 from among his papers. 
 
 "Fori Said, September ()th, 6.0 a.m." he 
 said, reading ; " British steam-collier Maude, 
 1,400 tons, grounded this morning in canal, 
 which is in consequence blocked for traffic. 
 Every effort is being made to clear the fair- 
 way. Accident is believed to be due to the 
 silting up of channel caused by extreme 
 draught ofH.B.M.S. Aggressor which passed 
 through last night." He added: "They 
 know their business, these English pigs." 
 
 "You think they have done it on purpose?" 
 
 " Of course." 
 
1 88 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 " But the fleet is not there yet." 
 
 " It will be there to-morrow night." 
 
 " But why should they block the channel 
 now, — why not wait ? " 
 
 " Characteristic dislike of coups de theatre, 
 I suppose. Now the French would have 
 waited till we were at the entrance of the 
 channel, and then shut the door in our faces 
 neatly. But British Diplomacy does not aim 
 at effects ; besides, this looks more natural." 
 
 " How abominable ! " 
 
 "And listen to this," said the President, 
 as giving way to keen irritation he snatched 
 another paper from his bundle and began to 
 read. " From the Ambassador," he said : 
 " Her Majesty's Government have instructed 
 the officers commanding the various British 
 coaling-stations south of the Red Sea, to ren- 
 der every assistance to the Lceuranian fleet 
 and to supply them, with coal at the local 
 market-rate." 
 
 " It is an insult," she said. 
 
 " It is a cat playing with a mouse," he 
 rejoined bitterly. 
 
 "What will you do.?" 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 89 
 
 " Do? Sulk, protest, — but give in. What 
 else can we do.? Their ships are on the 
 spot; ours are cut off." 
 
 There was a pause. Molara read his 
 papers and continued his breakfast. Lucile 
 came back to her resolution. She would 
 tell him ; but she would make terms. Sav- 
 rola must be protected at all costs. " An- 
 tonio," she said nervously. 
 
 The President, who was in a thoroughly 
 bad temper, went on reading for a moment 
 and then looked up abruptly. " Yes ? " 
 
 " I must tell you something." 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " 
 
 " A great danger is threatening us." 
 
 " I know that," he said shortly. 
 
 " Savrola " She paused uncertain 
 
 and undecided. 
 
 "What of him?" said Molara, suddenly 
 becoming interested. 
 
 " If you were to find him guilty of conspir- 
 acy, of plotting revolution, what would you 
 do?" 
 
 " I should shoot him with the greatest 
 pleasure in the world." 
 
IQO THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 "What, without a trial?" 
 
 " Oh no ! He should have a trial under 
 martial law and welcome. What of him ? " 
 
 It was a bad moment. She looked round 
 for another loophole. 
 
 " He — he made a speech last night," 
 she said. 
 
 " He did," said the President impatiently. 
 
 " Well, I think it must have been very 
 inflammatory, because I heard the crowds 
 cheering in the streets all night." 
 
 Molara looked at her in deep disgust. 
 " My dear, how silly you are this morning," 
 he said and returned to his paper. 
 
 The long silence that followed was broken 
 by the hurried entrance of Miguel with an 
 opened telegram. He walked straight up to 
 the President and handed it to him without 
 speaking ; but Lucile could see that he was 
 trembling with haste, excitement, or terror. 
 
 Molara opened the folded paper leisurely, 
 smoothed it on the table and then jumped 
 out of his chair as he read it. " Good God ! 
 when did this come.''" 
 
 -" This moment." 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. I9I 
 
 "The fleet," he cried, "the fleet, Miguel, 
 — not an instant must be lost ! Recall the 
 Admiral ! They must return at once. I 
 will write the telegram myself." Crumpling 
 the message in his hand he hurried out of 
 the room, Miguel at his heels. At the door 
 he found a waiting servant. " Send for 
 Colonel Sorrento, — to come here immedi- 
 ately. Go ! be off ! Run ! " he cried as the 
 man departed with ceremonious slowness. 
 
 Lucile heard them bustle down the corri- 
 dor and the slam of a distant door ; then all 
 was silent again. She knew what that tele- 
 gram contained. The tragedy had burst 
 upon them all, that tragedy whose climax 
 must strike her so nearly ; but she felt glad 
 she had meant to tell her husband, — and 
 yet more glad that she had not told him. 
 A cynic might have observed that Savrola's 
 confidence, in the safety of his secret, was 
 well founded. 
 
 She returned to her sitting-room. The 
 uncertainty of the immediate future terrified 
 her. If the revolt succeeded, she and her 
 husband would have to fly for their lives ; if 
 
192 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 it were suppressed the consequences seemed 
 more appalling. One thing was clear: the 
 President would send her out of the capital 
 at once to some place of safety. Whither ? 
 Amid all these doubts and conflicting emo- 
 tions one desire predominated, — to see Sav- 
 rola again, to bid him good-bye, to tell him 
 she had not betrayed him. It was impossi- 
 ble. A prey to many apprehensions she 
 walked aimlessly about the room, awaiting 
 the developements she feared. 
 
 Meanwhile the President and his secre- 
 tary had reached the private office. Miguel 
 shut the door. Both looked at each other. 
 
 " It has come," said Molara with a long 
 breath. 
 
 " In an evil hour," replied the Secretary. 
 
 " I shall win, Miguel. Trust to my star, 
 my luck, — I will see this thing through. 
 We shall crush them ; but much is to be 
 done. Now write this telegram to our agent 
 at Port Said ; send it in cipher and clear the 
 line : Charter at once fast despatch-boat and 
 go personally to meet Admiral de Mello, who 
 with fleet left Laurania midnight 8th instant 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 93 
 
 for Port Said. Stop. Order him in my 
 nam,e return here urgent. Stop. Spare no 
 expense. Now send that off. With good luck 
 the ships should be here to-morrow night." 
 
 Miguel sat down and began to put the 
 message into code. The President paced 
 the room excitedly ; then he rang the bell ; 
 a servant entered. 
 
 " Has Colonel Sorrento come yet ? " 
 
 " No, Your Excellency." 
 
 " Send and tell him to come at once." 
 
 " He has been sent for, Your Excellency." 
 
 " Send again." 
 
 The man disappeared. 
 
 Molara rang the bell once more. He met 
 the servant in the doorway. 
 
 " Is there a mounted orderly } " 
 
 " Yes, Your Excellency." 
 
 " Finished, Miguel ? " 
 
 " Here," said the Secretary, getting up and 
 handing the message to the startled attend- 
 ant, — " at speed." 
 
 "Go on," shouted the President, striking 
 the table with his open hand, and the man 
 fled from the room. The sound of the gal- 
 
194 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 loping horse somewhat allayed Molara's im- 
 patience. 
 
 " He crossed the frontier last night at nine 
 o'clock, Miguel; he should have been at 
 Turga at daybreak. We have a garrison 
 there, a small one, but enough to delay the 
 advance. Why is there no news ? This 
 telegram comes from Paris, from the For- 
 eign Minister. We should have heard from 
 — who is it commands the post .'' " 
 
 " I don't know, Your Excellency. The 
 Colonel will be here directly ; but the silence 
 is ugly." 
 
 The President set his teeth. " I cannot 
 trust the army ; they are all disaffected. It 
 is a terrible game ; but I shall win, I shall 
 win ! " He repeated the sentence to himself 
 several times with more^ energy than convic- 
 tion, as if to fortify his heart. 
 
 The door opened. " Colonel Sorrento," 
 announced the usher. 
 
 " Look here, old man," said Molara famil- 
 iarly, — he felt he wanted a friend rather 
 than a subordinate — " Strelitz has invaded 
 us. He crossed the frontier last night with 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 95 
 
 two thousand men and several Maxim guns, 
 marching here by Turga and Lorenzo. We 
 have no news from the Commandant at 
 Turga ; who is he ? " 
 
 Sorrento was one of those soldiers, not an 
 uncommon type, who fear little but indepen- 
 dent responsibility. He had served under 
 the President for many years in the field 
 and in the Government. Had he been alone 
 when the news arrived, he would have been 
 thunderstruck ; now that he had a leader he 
 followed and obeyed with military precision. 
 Without any appearance of surprise he 
 thought for a moment and then replied: 
 " Major de Roc. He has four companies, — 
 a good officer, — you can trust him. Sir." 
 
 " But the troops ? " 
 
 " That's another matter altogether. The 
 whole army, as I have several times informed 
 you, Sir, is disturbed. Only the Guard can 
 be relied on, and, of course, the officers." 
 
 " Well, we shall see," said the President 
 stoutly. " Miguel, get the map. You know 
 the country, Sorrento. Between Turga and 
 Lorenzo, the Black Gorge must be held. 
 
196 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 Here," he pointed on the map, which the 
 Secretary unrolled, "here they must be 
 stopped or at any rate delayed, till the fleet 
 comes back. What is there at Lorenzo ? " 
 
 "A battalion and two machine-guns," re- 
 plied the War-Minister. 
 
 The President took a turn up and down 
 the room. He was used to deciding quickly. 
 " A brigade would do it for certain," he said. 
 He took another turn. " Rail two battalions 
 of the Guard at once to Lorenzo." Sorrento, 
 who had produced his note-book, began to 
 write. " Two field-batteries," said the Presi- 
 dent. " Which two are fit. Colonel ? " 
 
 " The first and second will do," answered 
 Sorrento. 
 
 " And the Lancers of the Guard." 
 
 " All .? " 
 
 " Yes, all, except details for orderly-work." 
 
 " That leaves you only one trustworthy 
 battalion." 
 
 " I know," said the President. " It is a 
 bold course, but the only one. Now what 
 about the Line regiments in the city? 
 Which are the worst.?" 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 97 
 
 " The third, fifth, and eleventh have caused 
 us most uneasiness." 
 
 " Very well ; we will get them out of the 
 way. Let them march to-day towards Lo- 
 renzo and halt anywhere ten miles out of 
 the city as a supporting brigade. Now, who 
 is to command ? " 
 
 " Rollo is senior. Sir." 
 
 " A fool, a fossil, and out of date," cried 
 the President. 
 
 " Stupid, but steady," said Sorrento. " You 
 can rely upon his attempting nothing brill- 
 iant ; he will do what he is told, and nothing 
 more." 
 
 Molara reflected on this tremendous mili- 
 tary virtue. " Very well ; give him the sup- 
 porting brigade ; they will have no fighting. 
 But the other business; that is different. 
 Brienz should have it," 
 
 " Why not Drogan .? " suggested the War- 
 Minister. 
 
 " I can't stand his wife," said the Presi- 
 dent. 
 
 " He is a good musician, Sir," interposed 
 Miguel, 
 
igS THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 " Guitar, — very melodious." He shook 
 his head appreciatively. 
 
 " And has a capital cook," added Sorrento. 
 
 " No," said Molara ; " this is a matter of life 
 and death. I cannot indulge my prejudices, 
 nor yours ; he is not a good man." 
 
 "A good Staff would run him all right, 
 Sir ; he is very placid and easily led. And 
 he is a great friend of mine; many's the 
 good dinner " 
 
 " No, Colonel, it's no good ; I cannot. Is 
 it likely that when so much is at stake, when 
 my reputation, my chances in life, indeed 
 life itself, are on the hazard, that I or any 
 one would give a great command on such 
 grounds ? If claims were equally balanced, 
 I would oblige you; but Brienz is a better 
 man and must have it. Besides," he added, 
 "he has not got a horrid wife." Sorrento 
 looked terribly disappointed but said no 
 more. " Well, that is all settled. I leave 
 all details to you. The Staff, everything, 
 you may appoint ; but the troops must start 
 by noon. I will speak to them myself at 
 the station." 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 1 99 
 
 The War-Minister bowed and departed, 
 solaced by the minor appointments which 
 the President had left to his decision. 
 
 Molara looked at his secretary dubiously. 
 " Is there anything else to do ? None of 
 the revolutionaries in the city have moved, 
 have they ? " 
 
 " They have given no sign. Sir ; there is 
 nothing to incriminate them." 
 
 " It is possible this has surprised them ; 
 their plans are not ready. At the first overt 
 act of violence or sedition, I will arrest them. 
 But I must have proofs, not for my own 
 satisfaction, but for the country." 
 
 " This is a critical moment," said the Sec- 
 retary. " If the leaders of the sedition could 
 be discredited, if they could be made to 
 appear ridiculous or insincere, it would have 
 a great effect on public opinion." 
 
 "I had thought," replied Molara, "that 
 we might hope to learn something of their 
 plans." 
 
 " You have informed me that Her Excel- 
 lency has consented to ask Senor Savrola 
 for information on this point ? " 
 
200 THE ACTION OF TH£ EXECUTIVE. 
 
 " I dislike the idea of any intimacy be- 
 tween them ; it might be dangerous." 
 
 " It might be made most dangerous for 
 him." 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 " In the way I have already indicated to, 
 you, General." 
 
 " Do you mean in the way I forbade you 
 to suggest, Sir ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "And this is the moment.?" 
 
 " Now or never." 
 
 There was a silence, after which they re- 
 sumed the morning's business. For an hour 
 and a half both worked busily. Then Mo- 
 lara spoke. " I hate doing it ; it's a dirty 
 job." 
 
 "What is necessary, is necessary," said 
 the Secretary sententiously. The President 
 was about to make a reply when a clerk 
 entered the room with a deciphered tele- 
 gram. Miguel took it from him, read it, 
 and passed it to his chief, saying grimly as 
 he did so : " Perhaps this will decide you." 
 
 The President read the message, and as 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 20I 
 
 he read his face grew hard and cruel. It 
 was from the Police Commissary at Turga, 
 brief but terrible ; the soldiers had deserted 
 to the invaders, having first shot their 
 officers. 
 
 " Very well," said Molara at last, " I shall 
 require you to accompany me to-night on a 
 mission of importance. I will take an aide- 
 de-camp as well." 
 
 " Yes," said the Secretary ; " witnesses are 
 necessary." 
 
 " I shall be armed." 
 
 " That is desirable, but only as a threat, 
 only as a threat," said the Secretary earnestly. 
 " He is too strong for violence ; the people 
 would be up in a moment." 
 
 " I know that," curtly replied the President, 
 and then with savage bitterness he added: 
 " but for that there would be no difficulty." 
 
 " None whatever," said Miguel, and went 
 on writing. 
 
 Molara rose and went in search of Lucile, 
 choking down the disgust and repugnance 
 he felt. He was determined now ; it might 
 just make the difference to him in the 
 
202 THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 
 
 struggle for power, and besides, it contained 
 the element of revenge. He would like to 
 see the proud Savrola grovel and beg for 
 mercy at his feet. All mere politicians, he 
 said to himself, were physical cowards ; the 
 fear of death would paralyse his rival. 
 
 Lucile was still in her sitting-room when 
 her husband entered. She met him with 
 an anxious look. " What has happened, 
 Antonio ? " 
 
 " We have been invaded, dearest, by a large 
 force of revolutionaries. The garrison of 
 Turga have deserted to the enemy, and killed 
 their officers. The end is now in sight." 
 
 " It is terrible," she said. 
 
 " Lucile," he said with unwonted tender- 
 ness, "one chance remains. If you could 
 find out what the leaders of the agitation in 
 this city intend to do, if you can get Savrola 
 to show his hand, we might maintain our 
 position and overcome our enemies. Can 
 you, — will you do this } " 
 
 Lucile's heart bounded. It was, as he 
 said, a chance. She might defeat the plot, 
 and at the same time make terms for Savrola : 
 
THE ACTION OF THE EXECUTIVE. 2O3 
 
 she might still rule in Laurania, and, though 
 this thought she repressed, save the man she 
 loved. Her course was clear ; to obtain the 
 information and sell it to her husband for 
 Savrola's life and liberty. " I will try," 
 she said. 
 
 " I knew you would not fail me, dearest," 
 said Molara. " But the time is short ; go 
 and see him to-night at his rooms. He will 
 surely tell you. You have power over men 
 and will succeed." 
 
 Lucile reflected. To herself she said, 
 " I shall save the State and serve my hus- 
 band ; " and herself rejoined, " You will see 
 him again." Then she spoke aloud. " I 
 will go to-night." 
 
 " My dear, I always trusted you," said the 
 President ; " I will never forget your devo- 
 tion." 
 
 Then he hurried away, convulsed with re- 
 morse, — and shame. He had indeed stooped 
 to conquer. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 The military force of the Lauranian Re- 
 public was proportioned to the duties of pro- 
 tecting its territories from invasion and of 
 maintaining law and order within them, but 
 was by the wisdom of former days restricted 
 to limits which did not encourage great 
 schemes of foreign conquest nor any aggres- 
 sive meddling in the affairs of the neighbour- 
 ing principalities. Four regiments of cavalry, 
 twenty battalions of foot, and eight field-bat- 
 teries comprised the Army of the Line. Be- 
 sides these there was the Republican Guard, 
 which consisted of a regiment of Lancers and 
 three strong battalions of veteran infantry and 
 supported by their discipHne the authority, 
 and by their magnificence the dignity, of the 
 State. 
 
 The great capital city, which exceeded in 
 wealth, population, and turbulence the aggre- 
 
 204 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 205 
 
 gate of the provincial towns, had for its gar- 
 rison the Guard and half of the entire army. 
 The remaining troops were scattered in small 
 country stations and on the frontiers. 
 
 All the pains that the President had taken 
 to maintain the good will of the soldiery had 
 proved vain. The revolutionary movement 
 had grown apace in the ranks of the army, 
 till they were now thoroughly disaffected, 
 and the officers felt that their orders would 
 be obeyed only so far as they were agreeable. 
 With the Guard it was different. All, or 
 nearly all, had borne their part in the late 
 war and had marched to victory under the , 
 generalship of the President. They hon- 
 oured and trusted their former commander, 
 and were in turn honoured and trusted by 
 him ; indeed the favour he had shewn them 
 may have been among the causes which had 
 alienated the rest. 
 
 It was the greater part of this Guard that 
 Molara, in his heavy need, was about to send 
 against the invaders. He well knew the 
 danger of depriving himself of the only 
 troops he could rely on, should the city itself 
 
206 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 rise; but the advancing forces must be 
 stopped at all hazards, and the Guard alone 
 were able and willing to do the work. He 
 would be left almost alone amid the populace 
 who detested him, in the city he had ruled 
 so sternly, with mutinous soldiers as his only 
 defenders. It was not an inviting prospect, 
 yet it presented some chances of success. 
 It displayed a confidence which, though as- 
 sumed, might decide the waverers and dis- 
 gust his foes ; and it dealt with the most 
 pressing emergency, which was after all the 
 first duty of the Executive. He did not 
 doubt the ability of the troops he had de- 
 spatched to disperse, if not to destroy, the 
 rabble that had crossed the frontier. That 
 danger at least was removed by his action. 
 In two days the fleet would return, and under 
 its guns his Government might still continue, 
 feared and respected. The intervening pe- 
 riod was the crisis, a crisis which he hoped 
 to pass safely through, partly by the force of 
 his personality, and partly by the ridicule 
 and contempt in which he intended to plunge 
 his terrible rival. 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 20/ 
 
 Punctually at eleven o'clock he left his 
 private office to attire himself in his full uni- 
 form as a general of the army, in order that 
 at the parade the troops might be reminded 
 that he too was a soldier and one who had 
 seen much war. 
 
 At the door Lieutenant Tiro presented 
 himself, in a great state of perturbation. 
 " Sir," he said, " you will allow me to go with 
 my squadron to the front.? There will be 
 nothing for me to do here." 
 
 " On the contrary," replied the President, 
 "there will be a great deal for you to do 
 here. You must stay." 
 
 Tiro turned pale. " I do beg you, Sir, 
 to allow me to go," he said earnestly. 
 
 " Impossible, — I want you here." 
 
 "But, Sir " 
 
 "Oh, I know," said Molara impatiently; 
 "you want to get shot at. Stay here, and 
 I promise you shall hear bullets in plenty 
 before you have done." He turned away, 
 but the look of bitter disappointment on 
 the young officer's face induced him to 
 pause. " Besides," he added, assuming that 
 
208 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 charm of manner of which few great men 
 are destitute, " I require you for a service 
 of difficulty and extreme danger. You have 
 been specially selected." 
 
 The Subaltern said no more, but he was 
 only half consoled. He thought ruefully of 
 the green country, the glinting lances, the 
 crack of the rifles, and all the interest and 
 joy of war. He would miss everything; his 
 friends would be there, but he would not 
 share their perils. They would talk of their 
 adventures in after days and he would have 
 no part in their discussions; they would 
 even laugh at him as a " tame cat " of the 
 palace, an aide-de-camp for ornamental pur- 
 poses only. And as he mourned, a distant 
 trumpet-call stung him like the cut of a 
 whip. It was Boots and Saddles, — the 
 Lancers of the Guard were turning out. 
 The President hurried off to array himself, 
 and Tiro descended the stairs to order the 
 horses. 
 
 Molara was soon ready, and joined his 
 aide-de-camp on the steps of the palace. 
 Attended by a small escort they rode to 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 209 
 
 the railway-Station, passing, on the way, 
 through groups of sullen citizens who stared 
 insolently, and even spat on the ground in 
 hatred and anger. 
 
 The artillery had already been despatched, 
 but the entraining of the rest of the troops 
 had not commenced when the President 
 arrived, and they were drawn up (the cav- 
 alry in mass, the infantry in line of quarter- 
 columns) in the open space in front of the 
 terminus. Colonel Brienz, who commanded 
 the force, was mounted at their head. He 
 advanced and saluted; the band struck up 
 the Republican Hymn, and the infantry pre- 
 sented arms with a clash of precision. The 
 President acknowledged these compliments 
 with punctilious care ; and then, as the rifles 
 were shouldered, he rode towards the ranks. 
 
 "You have a splendid force. Colonel 
 Brienz," he said addressing the Colonel, 
 but speaking loud enough to be heard by 
 the troops. " To your skill and to their 
 courage the Republic entrusts its safety, 
 and entrusts it with confidence." He then 
 turned to the troops : " Soldiers, some of 
 
2IO THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 you will remember the day I asked you to 
 make a great effort for your country and 
 your honour; Sorato is the name that his- 
 tory has given to the victory which was 
 your answer to my appeal. Since then we 
 have rested in peace and security, protected 
 by the laurels that have crowned your bayo- 
 nets. Now, as the years have passed, those 
 trophies are challenged, challenged by the 
 rabble whose backs you have seen so often. 
 Take off the old laurels, soldiers of the 
 Guard, and with the bare steel win new 
 ones. Once again I ask you to do great 
 things, and when I look along your ranks, 
 I cannot doubt that you will do them. 
 Farewell, my heart goes with you ; would 
 to God I were your leader ! " 
 
 He shook hands with Brienz and with 
 the senior ofificers amid loud cheers from 
 the troops, some of whom broke from the 
 ranks to press around him, while others 
 raised their helmets on their bayonets in 
 warlike enthusiasm. But as the shouting 
 ceased, a long, discordant howl of derision, 
 till then drowned by the noise, was heard 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 211 
 
 from the watching crowds, — a sinister com- 
 ment ! 
 
 Meanwhile at the other end of the town 
 the mobilisation of the Reserve Brigade 
 revealed the extreme contrast between the 
 loyalty and discipline of the Guard and 
 the disaffection of the regiments of the 
 Line. 
 
 An ominous silence reigned throughout 
 the barracks. The soldiers walked about 
 moodily and sullenly, making little attempt 
 to pack their kits for the impending march. 
 Some loitered in groups about the parade- 
 ground and under the colonnade which ran 
 round their quarters ; others sat sulking on 
 their cots. The habit of discipline is hard 
 to break, but here were men steeling them- 
 selves to break it. 
 
 These signs did not pass unnoticed by 
 the officers who awaited in anxious suspense 
 the hour of parade. 
 
 " Don't push them," Sorrento had said to 
 the c'-ionels, " take them very gently ; " and 
 the colonels had severally replied that they 
 would answer with their lives for the loyalty 
 
212 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 of their men. It was nevertheless thought 
 advisable to try the effect of the order upon a 
 single battalion, and the nth Regiment was 
 the first to receive the command to turn 
 out. 
 
 The bugles blew briskly and cheerily, and 
 the officers, hitching up their swords and 
 pulling on their gloves, hurried to their re- 
 spective companies. Would the men obey 
 the summons ? It was touch and go. Anx- 
 iously they waited. Then by twos and 
 threes the soldiers shuffled out and began 
 to form up in their ranks. At length the 
 companies were complete, sufficiently com- 
 plete, that is to §ay, for there were many ab- 
 sentees. The officers inspected their units. 
 It was a dirty parade; the accoutrements 
 were uncleaned, the uniforms carelessly put 
 on, and the general appearance of the men 
 was slovenly to a degree. But of these 
 things no notice was taken, and as they 
 walked along the ranks the subalterns found 
 something to say in friendly chaff to many 
 of their soldiers. They were greeted how- 
 ever with a forbidding silence, a silence not 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 21 3 
 
 produced by discipline or by respect. Pres- 
 ently Markers sounded, the companies moved 
 to the general parade-ground, and soon the 
 whole battalion was drawn up in the middle 
 of the barrack-square. 
 
 The Colonel was on his horse, faultlessly 
 attired, and attended by his Adjutant. He 
 looked calmly at the solid ranks before him, 
 and nothing in his bearing revealed the ter- 
 rible suspense which filled his mind and 
 gripped his nerve. The Adjutant cantered 
 along the column collecting the reports. 
 "All present. Sir," said the company com- 
 manders, but there were several whose voices 
 quavered. Then he returned to the Colonel, 
 and fell into his place. The Colonel looked 
 at his regiment, and the regiment at their 
 Colonel. 
 
 "Battalion, — attention!" he cried, and 
 the soldiers sprang up with a clatter and 
 a click. "Form, — fours." 
 
 The word of command was loud and 
 clear. About a dozen soldiers moved at 
 the call of instinct— moved a little— looked 
 about them, and shuffled back to their places 
 
214 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 again. The rest budged not an inch. A 
 long and horrid silence followed. The Col- 
 onel's face turned grey. 
 
 " Soldiers," he said, " I have given you 
 an order; remember the honour of the regi- 
 ment. Form, — fours." This time not a 
 man moved. "As you were," he shouted 
 desperately, though it was an unnecessary 
 command. "The battalion will advance in 
 quarter-column. Quick march ! " 
 
 The battalion remained motionless. 
 
 " Captain Lecomte," said the Colonel, 
 "what is the name of the right-hand man 
 of your company ? " 
 
 " Sergeant Balfe, Sir," replied the officer. 
 
 " Sergeant Balfe, I order you to advance. 
 Quick — march ! " 
 
 The sergeant quivered with excitement; 
 but he held his ground. 
 
 The Colonel opened his pouch and pro- 
 duced his revolver with much deliberation. 
 He looked carefully at it, as if to see that it 
 was well cleaned; then he raised the ham- 
 mer and rode up close to the mutineer. At 
 ten yards he stopped and took aim. " Quick 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 215 
 
 — march!" he said in a low menacing 
 voice. 
 
 It was evident that a climax had been 
 reached, but at this instant Sorrento, who, 
 concealed in the archway of the barrack- 
 gate, had watched the proceedings, rode 
 into the square and trotted towards the sol- 
 diers. The Colonel lowered his pistol. 
 
 "Good-morning," said the War-Minister. 
 
 The officer replaced his weapon and 
 saluted. 
 
 " Is the regiment ready to move off ? " 
 and then before a reply could be given he 
 added : " A very smart parade, but after all 
 it will not be necessary to march to-day. 
 The President is anxious that the men 
 should have a good night's rest before 
 starting, and," raising his voice, "that they 
 should drink a bumper to the Republic and 
 confusion to her enemies. You may dismiss 
 them. Colonel." 
 
 " Fall out," said the Colonel, not even 
 caring to risk going through the correct 
 procedure for dismissing. 
 
 The parade broke up. The ordered 
 
2l6 THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 
 
 ranks dissolved in a crowd, and the sol- 
 diers streamed off towards their barracks. 
 The officers alone remained. 
 
 " I should have shot him, Sir, in another 
 instant," said the Colonel. 
 
 " No good," said Sorrento, " to shoot one 
 man; it would only infuriate them. I will 
 have a couple of machine-guns down here 
 to-morrow morning, and we shall see then 
 what will happen." 
 
 He turned suddenly, interrupted by a 
 storm of broken and confused cheering. 
 The soldiers had almost reached their bar- 
 racks ; one man was raised on the shoulders 
 of others, and surrounded by the rest of the 
 regiment, waving their helmets, brandishing 
 their rifles, and cheering wildly. 
 
 " It is the sergeant," said the Colonel. 
 
 " So I perceive," replied Sorrento bitterly. 
 "A popular man, I suppose. Have you 
 many non-commissioned officers like that ? " 
 The Colonel made no reply. " Gentlemen," 
 said the War-Minister to the officers who 
 loitered on the square, " I would recommend 
 you to go to your quarters. You are rather 
 
THE LOYALTY OF THE ARMY. 21 7 
 
 tempting targets here, and I believe your 
 regiment is a particularly good shooting 
 regiment. Is it not, Colonel?" 
 
 With which taunt he turned and rode 
 away, sick at heart with anger and anxiety, 
 while the officers of the nth Regiment of 
 Lauranian Infantry retired to their quarters 
 to hide their shame and face their danger. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SURPRISES. 
 
 It had been a busy and exciting day 
 for Savrola. He had seen his followers, 
 had issued orders, restrained the impetuous, 
 stimulated the weak, encouraged the timid. 
 All day long messages and reports had 
 reached him about the behaviour of the 
 soldiers. The departure of the Guard, and 
 the refusal of the supporting brigade to 
 march, were equally pleasing events. The 
 conspiracy had now been made known to 
 so many persons that he doubted the possi- 
 bility of keeping it much longer secret from 
 the Government agents. From every con- 
 sideration he felt that the hour had come. 
 The whole of the elaborate plan that he had 
 devised had been put into execution. The 
 strain had been severe, but at length all 
 the preparations were completed, and the 
 whole strength of the Revolutionary party 
 218 
 
SURPRISES. 219 
 
 was concentrated for the final struggle. 
 Godoy, Renos, and the others were collected 
 at the Mayoralty, whence at dawn the Pro- 
 visional Government was to be proclaimed. 
 Moret, to whom the actual duty of calling 
 the people to arms had been assigned, in- 
 structed his agents at his own house and 
 made arrangements for the posting of the 
 proclamation. All was ready. The leader 
 on whom everything depended, whose brain 
 had conceived, whose heart had inspired, the 
 great conspiracy, lay back in his chair. He 
 needed and desired a few moments' rest and 
 quiet reflection to review his schemes, to 
 look for omissions, to brace his nerves. 
 
 A small bright fire burned in the grate, 
 and all around were the ashes of burnt 
 papers. For an hour he had been feeding 
 the flames. One phase of his life was over ; 
 there might be another, but it was well to 
 have done with this one first. Letters from 
 friends, dead now or alienated; letters of 
 congratulation, of praise that had inspired 
 his younger ambitions ; letters from brilliant 
 men and some from beautiful women, — all 
 
220 SURPRISES. 
 
 had met a common fate. Why should these 
 records, be preserved for the curious eye of 
 unsympathetic posterity? If he perished, 
 the world might forget him, and welcome; 
 if he lived, his life would henceforth be 
 within the province of the historian. A sin- 
 gle note, preserved from the general destruc- 
 tion, lay on the table beside him. It was the 
 one with which Lucile had accompanied her 
 invitation to the State Ball, the only one he 
 had ever received from her. 
 
 As he balanced it in his fingers, his 
 thoughts drifted away from the busy hard 
 realities of life to that kindred soul and 
 lovely face. That episode too was over. 
 A barrier stood between them. Whatever 
 the result of the revolt, she was lost to him, 
 unless — and that terrible unless was preg- 
 nant with suggestions of such awful wicked- 
 ness that his mind recoiled from it as a 
 man's hand starts from some filthy thing he 
 has by inadvertence touched. There were 
 sins, sins against the commonwealth of man- 
 kind, against the phenomenon of life itself, 
 the stigma of which would cling through 
 
SURPRISES. 221 
 
 death, and for which there was pardon only 
 in annihilation. Yet he hated Molara with 
 a fierce hatred; nor did he care to longer 
 hide from himself the reason. And with 
 the recollection of the reason his mind re- 
 verted to a softer mood. Would he ever see 
 her again? Even the sound of her name 
 pleased him ; " Lucile," he whispered sadly. 
 
 There was a quick step outside ; the door 
 opened, and she stood before him. He 
 sprang up in mute astonishment. 
 
 Lucile looked greatly embarrassed. Her 
 mission was a delicate one. Indeed she did 
 not know her own mind, or did not care to 
 know it. It was for her husband's sake, she 
 said to herself; but the words she spoke 
 belied her. " I have come to tell you that 
 I did not betray your secret." 
 
 " I know, — I never feared," replied Savrola. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I have not yet been arrested." 
 
 " No, but he suspects." 
 
 " Suspects what ? " 
 
 " That you are conspiring against the 
 Republic." 
 
222 SURPRISES. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Savrola, greatly relieved ; 
 "he has no proofs." 
 
 " To-morrow he may have." 
 
 " To-morrow will be too late." 
 
 "Too late?" 
 
 "Yes," said Savrola; "the game begins 
 to-night." He took out his watch; it was 
 a quarter to eleven. 
 
 " At twelve o'clock you will hear the alarm- 
 bells. Sit down, and let us talk." 
 
 Lucile sat down mechanically. 
 
 " You love me," he said in an even voice, 
 looking at her dispassionately, and as if the 
 whole subject of their relations was but a 
 psychological problem, "and I love you." 
 There was no answer ; he continued : " But 
 we must part. In this world we are divided, 
 nor do I see how the barrier can be removed. 
 All my life I shall think of you; no other 
 woman can ever fill the empty space. Am- 
 bitions I still have : I always had them ; but 
 love I am not to know, or to know it only to 
 my vexation and despair. I will put it away 
 from me, and henceforth my affections will 
 be as lifeless as those burnt papers. And 
 
SURPRISES. 223 
 
 you, — will you forget? In the next few 
 hours I may be killed; if so, do not allow 
 yourself to mourn. I do not care to be re- 
 membered for what I was. If I have done 
 anything that may make the world more 
 happy, more cheerful, more comfortable, let 
 them recall the action. If I have spoken a 
 thought which, rising above the vicissitudes 
 of our existence, may make life brighter or 
 death less gloomy, then let them say, ' He 
 said this or he did that.' Forget the man ; 
 remember, perhaps, his work. Remember 
 too that you have known a soul, some- 
 where amid the puzzles of the universe, 
 the complement of your own; and then 
 forget. Summon your religion to your 
 aid ; anticipate the moment of forgetting ; 
 live, and leave the past alone. Can you do 
 this ? " 
 
 " Never ! " she answered passionately. " I 
 will never forget you ! " 
 
 " We are but poor philosophers," he said. 
 " Pain and love make sport of us and all our 
 theories. We cannot conquer ourselves or 
 rise above our state." 
 
224 SURPRISES. 
 
 " Why should we try ? " she whispered, 
 looking at him with wild eyes. 
 
 He saw and trembled. Then, with the 
 surge of impulse, he cried, " My God, how I 
 love you!" and before she could frame a 
 resolution or even choose her mind, they had 
 kissed each other. 
 
 The handle of the door turned quickly. 
 Both started back. The door swung open 
 and the President appeared. He was in 
 plain clothes, his right hand concealed behind 
 his back. Miguel followed from out of the 
 darkness of the passage. 
 
 For a moment there was silence. Then 
 Molara in a furious voice broke out : " So, 
 Sir, you attack me in this way also, — coward 
 and scoundrel!" He raised his hand and 
 pointed the revolver it held full at his 
 enemy. 
 
 Lucile, feeling that the world had broken 
 up, fell back against the sofa, stunned with 
 terror. Savrola rose and faced the President. 
 Then she saw what a brave man he was, for 
 as he did so he contrived to stand between 
 the weapon and herself. " Put down your 
 
SURPRISES. 225 
 
 pistol," he said in a firm voice; "and you 
 shall have an explanation." 
 
 " I will put it down," said Molara, " when 
 I have killed you." 
 
 Savrola measured the distance between 
 them with his eye. Could he spring in 
 under the shot? Again he looked at the 
 table where his own revolver lay. He 
 shielded her, and he decided to stand still. 
 
 " Down on your knees and beg for mercy, 
 you hound ; down, or I will blow your face 
 in!" 
 
 " I have always tried to despise death, and 
 have always succeeded in despising you. I 
 shall bow to neither." 
 
 " We shall see," said Molara, grinding his 
 teeth. " I shall count five, — one ! " 
 
 There was a pause. Savrola looked at the 
 pistol barrel, a black spot encircled by a ring 
 of bright steel; all the rest of the picture 
 was a blank. 
 
 " Two ! " counted the President. 
 
 So he was to die, — flash off this earth 
 when that black spot burst into flame. He 
 anticipated the blow full in his face; and 
 
226 SURPRISES. 
 
 beyond he saw nothing, — annihilation, — 
 black, black night. 
 
 " Three ! " 
 
 He could just see the rifling of the barrel ; 
 the lands showed faintly. That was a won- 
 derful invention — to make the bullet spin 
 as it travelled. He imagined it churning his 
 brain with hideous energy. He tried to 
 think, to take one grip of his philosophy or 
 faith before the plunge; but his physical 
 sensations were too violent. To the tips of 
 his fingers he tingled, as the blood surged 
 through his veins; the palms of his hands 
 felt hot. 
 
 " Four ! " 
 
 Lucile sprang up, and with a cry threw 
 herself in front of the President. "Wait, 
 wait ! " she cried. " Have mercy ! " 
 
 Molara met her look, and in those eyes 
 read more than terror. Then at last he 
 understood; he started as though he had 
 caught hold of red-hot iron. " My God ! it's 
 true ! " he gasped. " Strumpet ! " he cried, 
 as he pushed her from him, striking her with 
 the back of his left hand in the mouth. She 
 
SURPRISES. 227 
 
 shrank into the far corner of the room. He 
 saw it all now. Hoist with his own petard 
 he had lost everything. Wild fury took hold 
 of him and shook him till his throat rattled 
 and ached. She had deserted him; power 
 was slipping from his grasp; his rival, his 
 enemy, the man he hated with all his soul 
 was everywhere triumphant. He had walked 
 into the trap only to steal the bait; but he 
 should not escape. There was a limit to 
 prudence and to the love of life. His plans, 
 his hopes, the roar of an avenging crowd, all 
 faded from his mind. Death should wipe 
 out the long score that stood between them, 
 death which settled all, — now on the instant. 
 But he had been a soldier, and was ever a 
 practical man in the detail of life. He low- 
 ered the pistol and deliberately cocked it; 
 single action would make certainty more 
 sure; then he took good aim. 
 
 Savrola, seeing that the moment was upon 
 him, lowered his head and sprang forward. 
 
 The President fired. 
 
 But Miguel's quick intelligence had ap- 
 preciated the changed situation, and he 
 
228 SURPRISES. 
 
 remembered that there were consequences. 
 He saw that the trick had become deadly 
 earnest, and he did not forget the mob. He 
 struck the pistol up, and the bullet, by a very 
 little, flew high. 
 
 In the smoke and the flash Savrola closed 
 with his adversary and bore him to the 
 ground. Molara fell underneath and with 
 the concussion dropped the revolver. The 
 other seized it, wrenched himself clear, and 
 sprang back and away from the prostrate 
 figured For a moment he stood there and 
 watched, while the hungry lust of killing 
 rose in his heart and made his trigger-finger 
 itch. Then very slowly the President rose. 
 The fall had dazed him; he leaned against 
 the book-case and groaned. 
 
 Below there was a beating at the front 
 door. Molara turned towards Lucile, who 
 still cowered in the corner of the room, and 
 began to revile her. The common, ugly 
 material of his character showed through 
 the veneer and polish that varied intercourse 
 and the conduct of great affairs had super- 
 imposed. His words were not fit to hear, 
 
SURPRISES. 229 
 
 nor worth remembering ; but they stung her 
 to the quick and she rejoined defiantly: 
 "You knew I was here;' you told me to 
 come! You have laid a trap; the fault is 
 yours!" Molara replied by a filthy taunt. 
 " I am innocent," she cried ; " though I love 
 him, I am innocent ! Why did you tell me 
 to come here ? " 
 
 Savrola began to perceive dimly. " I do 
 not know," he said, " what villainy you have 
 contrived. I have wronged you too much 
 to care to have your blood on my head ; but 
 go, and go quickly ; I will not endure your 
 foulness. Go ! " 
 
 The President was now recovering his 
 calmness. " I should have shot you myself," 
 he said, " but I will have it done by a platoon 
 of soldiers, — five soldiers and a corporal." 
 
 " The murder will be avenged in either 
 case." 
 
 " Why did you stop me, Miguel .? " 
 
 " It is as he says. Your Excellency," replied 
 the Secretary. " It would have been a tacti- 
 cal error." 
 
 The official manner, the style of address, 
 
230 SURPRISES. 
 
 the man's composure, restored the President 
 to his senses. He walked towards the door 
 and stopping at the sideboard helped himself 
 to a glass of brandy with ostentation. " Con- 
 fiscated," he said, and held it up to the light, 
 "by order of the Government." He swal- 
 lowed it. " I will see you shot to-morrow," 
 he added, heedless that the other held the 
 pistol. 
 
 " I shall be at the Mayoralty," said Sav- 
 rola ; " you may come and fetch me if you 
 dare." 
 
 " Revolt ! " said the President. " Pooh ! I 
 will stamp it out, and you too, before the 
 sun has gone down," 
 
 " Perhaps there may be another ending to 
 the tale." 
 
 " One or the other," said the President. 
 "You have robbed me of my honour; you 
 are plotting to rob me of my power. There 
 is not room for both of us in the world. 
 You may take your mistress with you to 
 hell." 
 
 There was a noise of hasty footsteps on 
 the stairs ; Lieutenant Tiro flung open the 
 
SURPRISES. 231 
 
 door, but stopped abruptly in astonishment 
 at the occupants of the room. " I heard a 
 shot," he said. 
 
 "Yes," answered the President; "there 
 has been an accident, but luckily no harm 
 was done. Will you please accompany me 
 to the palace ? Miguel, come ! " 
 
 "You had better be quick. Sir," said the 
 Subaltern. " There are many strange folk 
 about to-night, and they are building a barri- 
 cade at the end of the street." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the President. It is 
 time we took steps to stop them. Good- 
 night, Sir," he added, turning to Savrola; 
 "we shall meet to-morrow and finish our 
 discussion." 
 
 But Savrola, revolver in hand, looked at 
 him steadily and let him go in silence, a 
 silence that for a space Lucile's sobs alone 
 disturbed. At length, when the retreating 
 footsteps had died away and the street door 
 had closed, she spoke. " I cannot stop here." 
 
 " You cannot go back to the palace." 
 
 " What am I to do, then ? " 
 
 Savrola reflected. " You had better stay 
 
232 SURPRISES. 
 
 here for the present. The house is at your 
 disposal, and you will be alone. I must go 
 at once to the Mayoralty ; already I am late, 
 — it is close on twelve, — the moment ap- 
 proaches. Besides, Molara will send police- 
 men, and I have duties to discharge which I 
 cannot .avoid. To-night the streets are too 
 dangerous. Perhaps I shall return in the 
 morning." 
 
 The tragedy had stunned them both. A 
 bitter remorse filled Savrola's heart. Her 
 life was ruined, — was he the cause ? He . 
 could not say how far he was guilty or inno- 
 cent ; but the sadness of it all was unaltered, 
 no matter who might be at fault. "Good- 
 bye," he said rising. " I must go, though I 
 leave my heart behind. Much depends on 
 me, — the lives of friends, the liberties of a 
 nation." 
 
 And so Tie departed to play a great game 
 in the face of all the world, to struggle for 
 those ambitions which form the greater part 
 of man's interest in life ; while she, a woman, 
 miserable and now alone, had no resource 
 but to wait. 
 
SURPRISES. 233 
 
 And then suddenly the bells began to ring 
 all over the city with quick impatient strokes. 
 There was the sound of a far-off bugle-call 
 and a dull report, — the boom of an alarm- 
 gun. The tumult grew; the roll of a drum 
 beating the assembly was heard at the end of 
 the street; confused shoutings and cries rose 
 from many quarters. At length one sound 
 was heard which put an end to all doubts, — 
 tap, tap, tap, like the subdued slamming of 
 many wooden boxes — the noise of distant 
 musketry. 
 
 The revolution had begun. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 Meanwhile the President and his two 
 followers pursued their way through the 
 city. Many people were moving about the 
 streets, and here and there dark figures 
 gathered in groups. The impression that 
 great events were impending grew; the very 
 air was sultry and surcharged with whisper- 
 ings. The barricade, which was being built 
 outside Savrola's house, had convinced Mo- 
 lara that a rising was imminent ; half a mile 
 from the palace the way was blocked by an- 
 other. Three carts had been stopped and 
 drawn across the street, and about fifty men 
 were working silently to strengthen the 
 obstruction : some pulled up the flat paving- 
 stones ; others were carrying mattresses and 
 boxes filled with earth from the adjacent 
 houses ; but they paid little attention to the 
 
 234 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 235 
 
 President's party. He turned up his collar 
 and pressing his felt hat well down on his 
 face clambered over the barrier, — the signifi- 
 cance of what he saw filling his mind ; the 
 Subaltern indeed in his undress uniform drew 
 some curious looks, but no attempt was made 
 to stop his progress. These men waited for 
 the signal. 
 
 All this time Molara said not a word. 
 With the approach of danger he made great 
 efforts to regain his calmness, that he might 
 have a clear head to meet it; but for all his 
 strength of will, his hatred of Savrola filled 
 his mind to the exclusion of everything else. 
 As he reached the palace the revolt broke 
 out all over the city. Messenger after mes- 
 senger hurried up with evil news. Some of 
 the regiments had refused to fire on the 
 people ; others were fraternising with them ; 
 everywhere barricades grew and the ap- 
 proaches to the palace were on all sides 
 being closed. The Revolutionary leaders 
 had gathered at the Mayoralty. The streets 
 were placarded with the Proclamation of the 
 Provisional Government. Officers from van- 
 
236 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 ous parts of the town hastened to the palace ; 
 some were wounded, many agitated. Among 
 them was Sorrento, who brought the terrible 
 news that an entire battery of artillery had 
 surrendered their guns to the rebels. By 
 half-past three it was evident, from the 
 reports which were received by telegram and 
 messenger, that the greater part of the city 
 had passed into the hands of the Revolution- 
 aries with very little actual fighting. 
 
 The President bore all with a calmness 
 which revealed the full strength of his hard, 
 stern character. He had, in truth, a terrible 
 stimulant. Beyond the barricades and the 
 rebels who lined them was the Mayoralty 
 and Savrola. The face and figure of his 
 enemy was before his eyes ; everything else 
 seemed of little importance. Yet he found 
 in the blinding emergency an outlet for his 
 fury, a counter-irritant for his grief; to crush 
 the revolt, but above all to kill Savrola, was 
 his heart's desire. 
 
 " We must wait for daylight," he said. 
 
 "And what then, Sir.?" asked the War- 
 Minister. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 237 
 
 " We will then proceed to the Mayoralty 
 and arrest the leaders of this disturbance." 
 
 The rest of the night was spent in organ- 
 ising a force with which to move at dawn. 
 A few hundred faithful soldiers (men who 
 had served with Molara in the former war), 
 seventy officers of the regular army, whose 
 loyalty was unquestionable, and the remain- 
 ing battalion of the Guard with a detach- 
 ment of armed police, were alone available. 
 This band of devoted men, under fourteen 
 hundred in number, collected in the open 
 space in front of the palace-gates, and 
 guarded the approaches while they waited 
 for sunrise. 
 
 They were not attacked. "Secure the 
 city," had been Savrola's order, and the 
 rebels were busily at work on the barricades, 
 which in a regular system rose on all sides. 
 Messages of varied import continued to reach 
 the President. Louvet, in a hurried note, 
 expressed his horror at the revolt, and ex- 
 plained how much he regretted being unable 
 to join the President at the palace. He had 
 to leave the city in great haste, he said ; a 
 
238 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 relative was dangerously ill. He adjured 
 Molara to trust in Providence ; for his part 
 he was confident that the Revolutionaries 
 would be suppressed. 
 
 The President in his room read this with 
 a dry, hard laugh. He had never put the 
 slightest faith in Louvet's courage, having 
 always realised that in a crisis he would be 
 useless and a coward. He did not blame 
 him ; the man had his good points, and as a 
 public official in the Home-Office he was 
 admirable ; but war was not his province. 
 
 He passed the letter to Miguel. The 
 Secretary read it and reflected. He also 
 was no soldier. It was evident that the game 
 was up, and there was no need for him to 
 throw his life away, merely out of sentiment 
 as he said to himself. He thought of the 
 part he had played in the drama of the night. 
 That surely gave him some claims ; it would 
 be possible at least to hedge. He took a 
 fresh piece of paper and began to write. 
 Molara paced the room. " What are you 
 writing?" he asked. 
 
 "An order to the Commandant of the 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 239 
 
 harbour-forts," replied Miguel promptly, " to 
 acquaint him with the situation and tell 
 him to hold his posts in your name at all 
 hazards." 
 
 " It is needless," said Molara ; " either his 
 men are traitors or they are not." 
 
 " I have told him," said Miguel quickly, 
 "to make a demonstration towards the 
 palace at dawn, if he can trust his men. It 
 will create a diversion." 
 
 " Very well," said Molara wearily ; " but I 
 doubt it ever reaching him, and he has so 
 few men that could be spared after the forts 
 are held adequately." 
 
 An orderly entered with a telegram. The 
 clerk at the ofifice, a loyalist, an unknown 
 man of honour, had brought it himself, 
 passing the line of barricades with extraor- 
 dinary good-fortune and courage. While 
 the President tore the envelope open, Miguel 
 rose and left the room. Outside in the 
 brilliantly lighted passage he found a ser- 
 vant, terrified but not incapable. He spoke 
 to the man quickly and in a low voice; 
 twenty pounds^ the Mayoralty, at all costs, 
 
240 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 were the essentials of his instructions. Then 
 he re-entered the office. 
 
 " Look here," said Molara ; " it is not all 
 over yet." The telegram was from Brietiz, 
 near Lorenzo : Clear the line. Strelitz and 
 force two thousand rebels advanced on the 
 Black Gorge this afternoon. I have repulsed 
 them with heavy loss. Strelitz is prisoner. 
 Am pursuing remainder. I await instruc- 
 tions at Turga. " This must be published 
 at once," he said. " Get a thousand copies 
 printed, and have them circulated among the 
 loyalists and as far as possible in the city." 
 
 The news of the victory was received with 
 cheers by the troops gathered in the palace- 
 square, and they waited with impatience for 
 morning. At length the light of day began 
 to grow in the sky, and other lights, the glow 
 of distant conflagrations, paled. The Presi- 
 dent, followed by Sorrento, a few officers of 
 high rank, and his aide-de-camp Tiro, de- 
 scended the steps, traversed the courtyard 
 and passing through the great gates of the 
 palace, entered the square where the last 
 reserves of his power were assembled. He 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 24 1 
 
 walked about and shook hands right and left 
 with these faithful friends and supporters. 
 Presently his eye caught sight of the rebel 
 proclamation which some daring hand had 
 placed on the wall under cover of the dark- 
 ness. He walked up and read it by the light 
 of a lantern. Savrola's style was not easy to 
 mistake. The short crisp sentences of the 
 appeal to the people to take up arms rang 
 like a trumpet-call. Across the placard a 
 small red slip, such as are used on theatrical 
 advertisements to show the time of the per- 
 formance, had been posted at a later hour. 
 It purported to be the facsimile of a tele- 
 gram and ran thus : Forced Black Gorge this 
 morning. Dictators troops in full retreat. 
 Am marching on Lorenzo. Strelitz. 
 
 Molara quivered with fury. Savrola did 
 not neglect details, and threw few chances 
 away. " Infamous liar ! " was the President's 
 comment; but he realised the power of the 
 man he sought to crush, and for a moment 
 despair welled in his heart and seemed to 
 chill his veins. He shook the sensation off 
 with a great effort. 
 
242 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 The officers were already in possession of 
 the details of the plan, whose boldness was 
 its main recommendation. The rebels had 
 succeeded in launching their enterprise ; the 
 Government would reply by a coup cfetai. In 
 any case the stroke was aimed at the heart 
 of the revolt, and if it went home the results 
 would be decisive. " The octopus of Rebel- 
 lion, Gentlemen," said the President to those 
 around him, and pointing to the Revolution- 
 ary proclamation, "has long arms. It will 
 be necessary to cut off his head." And 
 though all felt the venture to be desperate, 
 they were brave men and knew their minds. 
 
 The distance from the palace to the May- 
 oralty was nearly a mile and a half along a 
 broad but winding avenue ; by this avenue, 
 and by the narrower streets on either side, 
 the force advanced silently in three divisions. 
 The President marched on foot with the 
 centre column; Sorrento took command of 
 the left, which was the threatened flank. 
 Slowly, and with frequent halts to keep up 
 communication with each other, the troops 
 marched along the silent streets. Not a soul 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 243 
 
 was to be seen : all the shutters of the houses 
 were closed, all the doors fastened; and 
 though the sky grew gradually brighter in 
 the East, the city was still plunged in gloom. 
 The advanced files pressed forward up the 
 avenue, running from tree to tree, and paus- 
 ing cautiously at each to peer through the 
 darkness. Suddenly as they rounded a 
 bend, a shot rang out in front. " Forward ! " 
 cried the President. The bugles sounded 
 the charge and the drums beat. In the dim 
 light the outline of a barricade was visible 
 two hundred yards off, a dark obstruction 
 across the roadway. The soldiers shouted 
 and broke into a run. The defenders of the 
 barricade, surprised, opened an ineffective 
 fire and then, seeing that the attack was in 
 earnest and doubtful of its strength, beat a 
 retreat while time remained. The barricade 
 was captured in a moment, and the assailants 
 pressed on elated by success. Behind the 
 barricade was a cross street, right and left. 
 Firing broke out everywhere, and the loud 
 noise of the rifles echoed from the walls of 
 the houses. The flanking columns had been 
 
244 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT, 
 
 sharply checked at their barricades, but the 
 capture of the centre position turned both 
 of these, and their defenders, fearing to be 
 cut off, fled in disorder. 
 
 It was now daylight, and the scene in the 
 streets was a strange one. The skirmishers 
 darted between the trees, and the little blue- 
 white puffs of smoke spotted the whole pic- 
 ture. The retiring rebels left their wounded 
 on the ground, and these the soldiers bayo- 
 neted savagely. Shots were fired from the 
 windows of the houses and from any shelter 
 that offered, — a lamp-post, a pillar-box, a 
 wounded man, an overturned cab. The rifle- 
 fire was searching, and the streets were very 
 bare. In their desire to get cover, to get 
 behind something, both sides broke into the 
 houses and dragged out chairs, tables, and 
 piles of bedding ; and though these were but 
 little protection from the bullets, men felt 
 less naked behind them. 
 
 All this time the troops were steadily 
 -advancing, though suffering continual loss ; 
 but gradually the fire of the rebels grew 
 hotter. More men were hurried to the scene 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 245 
 
 each moment; the pressure on the flanks 
 became severe; the enveloping enemy pressed 
 in down the side streets, to hold which the 
 scanty force at the President's disposal had 
 to be further weakened. At length the 
 rebels ceased to retreat; they had reached 
 their guns, four of which were arranged in a 
 row across the avenue. 
 
 The Mayoralty was now but a quarter of a 
 mile away, and Molara called on his soldiers 
 for a supreme effort. A dashing attempt to 
 carry the guns with the bayonet was defeated 
 with a loss of thirty killed and wounded, and 
 the Government troops took shelter in a side 
 street at right angles to the main avenue. 
 This in turn was enfiladed by the enemy, 
 who swept round the columns and began to 
 cut in on their line of retreat. 
 
 Firing was now general along a wide half- 
 circle. In the hope of driving the impro- 
 vised artillery-men from their places, the 
 troops forced their way into the houses on 
 either side of the avenue, and climbing along 
 the roofs began to fire down on their ad- 
 versaries. But the rebels, repeating the 
 
246 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 manoeuvre, met them and the attempt dwin- 
 dled into desperate but purposeless fighting 
 among the chimney-pots and the skylights. 
 
 The President exposed himself manfully. 
 Moving from one part of the force to 
 another, he animated his followers by his 
 example. Tiro, who kept close to him, had 
 seen enough war to realise that the check 
 was fatal to their chances. Every moment 
 was precious ; time was slipping away, and 
 the little force was already almost completely 
 encircled. He had taken a rifle and was 
 assisting to burst in the door of a house, 
 when to his astonishment he saw Miguel. 
 The Secretary was armed. He had hitherto 
 remained carefully in the rear, and had 
 avoided the danger in the air by hiding 
 behind the trees of the avenue ; but now he 
 advanced boldly to the doorway and began 
 to help in battering it down. No sooner 
 was this done than he darted in and ran up 
 the stairs crying out, "We are all soldiers 
 to-day ! " Several infantrymen followed' him 
 to fire from the lowest windows, but Tiro 
 could not leave the President ; he felt, how- 
 
THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 247 
 
 ever, surprised and pleased by Miguel's 
 gallantry. 
 
 It soon became evident to all that the 
 attempt had failed. The numbers against 
 them were too great. A third of the force 
 had been killed or wounded, when the order 
 to cut their way back to the palace was 
 given. On all sides the exulting enemy 
 pressed fiercely. Isolated parties of soldiers, 
 cut off from the retiring column, defended 
 themselves desperately in the houses and 
 on the roofs. They were nearly all killed 
 eventually, for everyone's blood was up, and 
 it was a waste of time to ask for quarter. 
 Others set fire to the houses and tried to 
 escape under cover of the smoke ; but very 
 few succeeded. Others again, and among 
 them Miguel, lay hid in closets and cellars, 
 from which they emerged when men's tem- 
 pers were again human and surrender was 
 not an unknown word. The right column, 
 which consisted of five companies of the 
 Guard battalion, were completely surrounded, 
 and laid down their arms on the promise of 
 a rebel general that their lives should be 
 
248 THE PROGRESS OF THE REVOLT. 
 
 spared. The promise was kept, and it ap- 
 peared that the superior officers among the 
 Revolutionists were making great efforts to 
 restrain the fury of their followers. 
 
 The main body of the Government troops, 
 massed in a single column, struggled on 
 towards the palace losing men at every step. 
 But in spite of their losses, they were dan- 
 gerous people to stop. One party of rebels, 
 who intercepted their line of retreat, was 
 swept away in a savage charge, and some 
 attempt was made to reform; but the rifle- 
 fire was pitiless and incessant, and eventu- 
 ally the retreat became a rout. A bloody 
 pursuit followed in which only some eighty 
 men escaped capture or death, and with the 
 President and Sorrento regained the palace 
 alive. The great gates were closed, and the 
 slender garrison prepared to defend them- 
 selves to the last. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 " That," said Lieutenant Tiro to a Cap- 
 tain of Artillery, as they got inside the gate, 
 " is about the best I've seen so far." 
 
 " I thought it was a bad business all 
 through," replied the other ; " and when they 
 brought the guns up it was a certainty." 
 
 " It wasn't the guns that did us," said the 
 Lancer Subaltern, who had no exaggerated 
 idea of the value of artillery; "we wanted 
 some cavalry." 
 
 "We wanted more men," answered the 
 Gunner, not anxious at that moment to 
 argue the relative values of the different 
 arms. " These rear-guard actions are the 
 devil." 
 
 "There was a damned sight more action 
 than there was rear-guard about that last 
 bit," said Tiro. " Do you suppose they cut 
 up the wounded.''" 
 
 249 
 
250 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 " Every one of them, I should think ; 
 they were like wolves at the end." 
 
 " What's going to happen now ? " 
 
 " They're going to come in here and finish 
 us off." 
 
 "We'll see about that," said Tiro. His 
 cheery courage could stand a prolonged test. 
 " The fleet will be back soon ; we shall hold 
 this place till then." 
 
 The palace was indeed not unsuited to 
 defence. It was solidly built of stone. The 
 windows were at some distance from the 
 ground and the lower strongly barred, except 
 on the garden-side, where the terrace and its 
 steps gave access to the long French win- 
 dows. But it was evident that a few good 
 rifles could forbid the bare and narrow ap- 
 proaches in that quarter. Indeed it seemed 
 as though the architect must have contem- 
 plated the occasion that had now arrived, for 
 he had almost built a stronghold disguised as 
 a palace. The side which faced the square 
 seemed to afford the best prospects to an as- 
 sault; yet the great gate was protected by 
 two small towers containing guard-rooms, 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 25 1 
 
 and the wall of the courtyard was high and 
 thick. As it seemed, however, that on this 
 front the enemy would be able to use their 
 numbers to the greatest effect, the majority 
 of the little garrison were concentrated there. 
 
 The rebels were wisely and cautiously led. 
 They did not at once push on to the attack 
 of the palace ; sure of their prey they could 
 afford to wait. Meanwhile the surviving ad- 
 herents of the Government endeavoured to 
 make their last foothold secure. Rough- 
 hewn cobblestones from the pavements of 
 the courtyard were prized up, and the win- 
 dows were with these converted into loop- 
 holes through which the garrison might fire 
 without much exposure. The gates were 
 closed and barred, and preparations made 
 to strut them with baulks of timber. Am- 
 munition was distributed. The duty and 
 responsibility of each section of the defence 
 was apportioned to the various officers. The 
 defenders recognised that they had entered 
 on a quarrel which must be carried to a defi- 
 nite conclusion. 
 
 But Molara's mood had changed. The 
 
252 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 fury of the night had cooled into the hard, 
 savage courage of the morning. He had led 
 the desperate attempt to capture the May- 
 oralty, and had exposed himself freely and 
 even recklessly in the tumult of the fight 
 that followed; but now that he had come 
 through unhurt, had regained the palace, 
 and realised that his last chance of killing 
 Savrola had passed, death appeared very 
 ugly. All the excitement which had sup- 
 ported him had died away; he had had 
 enough. His mind searched for some way 
 of escape, and searched vainly. The torture 
 of the moment was keen. A few hours 
 might bring help: the fleet would surely 
 come ; but it would be too late. The great 
 guns might take vengeance for his death; 
 they could not save his life. A feeling of 
 vexation shook him, and behind it grew 
 the realisation of the approaching darkness. 
 Terror began to touch his heart; his nerve 
 flickered; he had more to fear than the 
 others. The hatred of the multitude was 
 centred in him; after all it was his blood 
 they wanted, — his above all others. It was 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 253 
 
 ■ 
 
 a dreadful distinction. He retired in deep 
 despondency to his own room, and took no 
 part in the defence. 
 
 At about eleven o'clock the sharpshooters 
 of the enemy began to make their way into 
 the houses which surrounded the front of the 
 palace. Presently from an upper window a 
 shot was fired ; others followed, and soon a 
 regular fusilade began. The defenders, shel- 
 tered by their walls, replied carefully. Lieu- 
 tenant Tiro and a sergeant of the Guards, an 
 old war-time comrade of Molara's, were hold- 
 ing the window of the guard-room on the 
 left of the great gate. Both were good 
 shots. The Subaltern had filled his pock- 
 ets with cartridges; the Sergeant arranged 
 his on the sill in neat little rows of five. 
 From their position they could shoot right 
 down the street which led into the square 
 and towards the gate. Outside the guard- 
 room a dozen officers and men were still 
 engaged in making the entrance more se- 
 cure. They tried to wedge a great plank 
 between the ground and the second cross- 
 piece ; should the rebels try to rush the gate- 
 
254 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 way, it would thus be strong enough to resist 
 them. 
 
 The fire from the surrounding houses was 
 annoying rather than dangerous, but several 
 bullets struck the stones of the improvised 
 loopholes. The garrison fired carefully and 
 slowly, anxious not to expend their ammuni- 
 tion, or to expose themselves without a result. 
 Suddenly, about three hundred yards away, 
 a number of men turned into the street which 
 led to the gate, and began rapidly pushing 
 and pulling something forward. 
 
 " Look out," cried Tiro to the working- 
 party ; "they're bringing up a gun;" and 
 taking good aim he fired at the approaching 
 enemy. The Sergeant, and all the other de- 
 fenders of this side of the palace, fired too 
 with strange energy. The advancing crowd 
 slackened speed. Among them men began 
 to drop. Several in front threw up their 
 hands; others began carrying these away. 
 The attack dwindled. Then two or three 
 men ran back alone. At that all the rest 
 turned tail and scurried for the cover of the 
 side street, leaving the gun (one of the cap- 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 255 
 
 tured twelve-pounders) standing deserted in 
 the middle of the roadway, with about a 
 dozen shapeless black objects lying round it. 
 
 The garrison raised a cheer, which was 
 answered from the surrounding houses by 
 an increase of musketry. 
 
 A quarter of an hour passed and then the 
 rebels debouched from the side streets into 
 the main approach and began pushing up 
 four carts filled with sacks of flour. Again 
 the defenders fired rapidly. Their bullets, 
 striking the sacks, raised strange creamy 
 white clouds; but the assailants, sheltered 
 by their movable cover, continued to advance 
 steadily. They reached the gun, and began 
 emptying the carts by pushing the sacks out 
 from behind, until a regular breastwork was 
 formed, behind which they knelt down. 
 Some began firing; others devoted their 
 efforts to discharging the gun, on which the 
 aim of the garrison was now directed. With 
 a loss of two men they succeeded in loading 
 it and pointing it at the gate. A third man 
 advanced to fix the friction-tube by which it 
 was fired. 
 
256 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 Tiro took steady aim and the distant fig- 
 ure collapsed to the shot. 
 
 " Bull's eye," said the Sergeant apprecia- 
 tively, and leaned forward to fire at another, 
 who had advanced with desperate bravery to 
 discharge the piece. He paused long on his 
 aim, wishing to make certain; holding his 
 breath he began gently to squeeze the trig- 
 ger, as the musketry-books enjoin. Sud- 
 denly there was a very strange sound, half 
 thud, half smash. Tiro, shrinking swiftly to 
 the left, just avoided being splashed with 
 blood and other physical details. The Ser- 
 geant had been killed by a bullet which had 
 come to meet him as he looked through his 
 loophole. The distant man had fixed his 
 tube, and, catching up the lanyard, stood 
 back and aside to fire. 
 
 " Stand from the gate," shouted Tiro to 
 the working-party ; " I can't hold 'em ! " He 
 raised his rifle and fired on the chance. At 
 the same instant a great cloud of smoke burst 
 from the gun and another sprang up at the 
 palace gate. The woodwork was smashed 
 to pieces and, with the splinters of the 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 257 
 
 shell, flew on, overtaking with death and 
 wounds the working-party as they scam- 
 pered to cover. 
 
 A long loud burst of cheering arose on 
 all sides from the surrounding houses and 
 streets, and was taken up by the thousands 
 who were waiting behind and heard the 
 explosion of the gun. At first the rebel 
 fire increased, but very soon a bugler be- 
 gan to sound perseveringly, and after about 
 twenty minutes the musketry ceased alto- 
 gether. Then from over the barricade a 
 man with a white flag advanced, followed 
 by two others. The truce was acknowl- 
 edged from the palace by the waving of 
 a handkerchief. The deputation walked 
 straight up to the shattered gateway, and 
 their leader, stepping through, entered the 
 courtyard. Many of the defenders left their 
 stations to look at him and hear what terms 
 were offered. It was Moret. 
 
 " I call upon you all to surrender," he 
 said. " Your lives will be spared until you 
 have been fairly tried." 
 
 "Address yourself to me, Sir," said Sor- 
 
258 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 rento stepping forward ; " I am in command 
 here." 
 
 " I call upon you all to surrender in the 
 name of the Republic," repeated Moret 
 loudly. 
 
 " I forbid you to address these soldiers," 
 said Sorrento. " If you do so again, your 
 flag shall not protect you." 
 
 Moret turned to him. " Resistance is 
 useless," he said. " Why will you cause 
 further loss of life? Surrender, and your 
 lives shall be safe." 
 
 Sorrento reflected. Perhaps the rebels 
 knew that the fleet was approaching ; other- 
 wise, he thought they would not offer 
 terms. It was necessary to gain time. " We 
 shall require two hours *o consider the 
 terms," he said. 
 
 " No," answered Moret decidedly. " You 
 must surrender at once, here and now." 
 
 " We shall do no such thing," replied the 
 War-Minister. " The palace is defensible. 
 We shall hold it until the return of the 
 fleet and of the victorious field-army." 
 
 " You refuse all terms ? " 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 259 
 
 " We refuse all you have offered." 
 
 "Soldiers," said Moret turning again to 
 the men, " I implore you not to throw away 
 your lives. I offer fair terms; do not re- 
 ject them." 
 
 " Young man," said Sorrento with rising 
 anger, " I have a somewhat lengthy score 
 to settle with you already. You are a civil- 
 ian and are ignorant of the customs of war. 
 It is my duty to warn you that, if you con- 
 tinue to attempt to seduce the loyalty of 
 the Government troops, I shall fire at you." 
 He drew his revolver. 
 
 Moret should have heeded; but tactless, 
 brave, and impulsive as he was, he recked 
 little. His warm heart generously hoped 
 to save further loss of life. Besides, he did 
 not believe that Sorrento would shoot him 
 in cold blood; it would be too merciless. 
 " I offer you all life," he cried ; " do not 
 choose death." 
 
 Sorrento raised his pistol and fired. Mo- 
 ret fell to the ground, and his blood began 
 to trickle over the white flag. For a mo- 
 ment he twisted and quivered, and then 
 
26o THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 lay still. There were horrified murmurs 
 from the bystanders, who had not expected 
 to see the threat carried out. But it is not 
 well to count on the mercy of such men as 
 this War-Minister; they live their lives too 
 much by rule and regulation. 
 
 The two men outside the gate, hearing 
 the shot, looked in, saw, and ran swiftly 
 back to their comrades, while the garrison, 
 feeling that they must now abandon all 
 hope, returned to their posts slowly and 
 sullenly. The report of a truce had drawn 
 the President from his room, with a fresh 
 prospect of life, and perhaps of vengeance, 
 opening on his imagination. As he came 
 down the steps into the courtyard, the shot, 
 in such close proximity, startled him ; when 
 he saw the condition of the bearer of terms, 
 he staggered. " Good God ! " he said to 
 Sorrento, " what have you done ? " 
 
 " I have shot a rebel, Sir," replied the War- 
 Minister, his heart full of misgivings, but try- 
 ing to brazen it out, " for inciting the troops 
 to mutiny and desertion, after due warning 
 that his flag would no longer protect him." 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 26 1 
 
 Molara quivered from head to foot; he 
 felt the last retreat cut off. " You have con- 
 demned us all to death," he said. Then he 
 stooped and drew a paper which protruded 
 from the dead man's coat. It ran as fol- 
 lows: I authorise you to accept the surrender 
 of Antonio Molara, ex-President of the Re- 
 public, and of such officers, soldiers, and ad- 
 herents as may be holding the Presidential 
 Palace. Their lives are to be spared, and 
 they shall be protected pending the decision of 
 the Government. For the Council of Public 
 Safety, — Savrola. And Sorrento had killed 
 him, — the only man who could save them 
 from the fury of the crowd. Too sick at 
 heart to speak Molara turned away, and as 
 he did so the firing from the houses of the 
 square recommenced with savage vigour. 
 The besiegers knew now how their messen- 
 ger had fared. 
 
 And all the while Moret lay very still out 
 there in the courtyard. All his ambitions, 
 his enthusiasms, his hopes had come to a 
 full stop; his share in the world's affairs was 
 over; he had sunk into the ocean of the 
 
262 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 past, and left scarcely a bubble behind. In 
 all the contriving of the plot against the 
 Lauranian Government Savrola's personality 
 had dwarfed his. Yet this was a man of 
 heart and brain and nerve, one who might 
 have accomplished much; and he had a 
 mother and two young sisters who loved the 
 soil he trod on, and thought him the finest 
 fellow in the world. 
 
 Sorrento stood viewing his handiwork for 
 a long time, with a growing sense of dis- 
 satisfaction at his deed. His sour, hard 
 nature was incapable of genuine remorse, 
 but he had known Molara for many years 
 and was shocked to see his pain, and an- 
 noyed to think that he was the cause. He 
 had not realised that the President wished 
 to surrender; otherwise, he said to himself, 
 he might have been more lenient. Was 
 there no possible way of repairing the harm? 
 The man who had authorised Moret to ac- 
 cept their surrender had power with the 
 crowd ; he would be at the Mayoralty, — he 
 must be sent for, — but how ? 
 
 Lieutenant Tiro approached with a coat 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 263 
 
 in his hands. Disgusted at his superior's 
 brutality, he was determined to express his 
 feelings, clearly if not verbally. He bent 
 over the body and composed the limbs; then 
 he laid the coat over the white expression- 
 less face, and rising said insolently to the 
 Colonel : " I wonder if they'll do that for 
 you in a couple of hours' time, Sir." 
 
 Sorrento looked at him, and laughed 
 harshly. " Pooh ! What do I care ? When 
 you have seen as much fighting as I have, 
 you will not be so squeamish." 
 
 " I am not likely to see much more, now 
 that you have killed the only man who could 
 accept our surrender." 
 
 " There is another," said the War-Minis- 
 ter, " Savrola. If you want to live, go and 
 bring him to call off his hounds." 
 
 Sorrento spoke bitterly, but his words set 
 the Subaltern's mind working. Savrola, — 
 he knew him, liked him, and felt they had 
 something in common. Such a one would 
 come if he were summoned; but to leave 
 the palace seemed impossible. Although 
 the attacks of the rebels had been directed 
 
264 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 against the side of the main entrance only, 
 a close investment and a dropping musketry 
 were maintained throughout the complete 
 circle. To pass the line of besiegers by the 
 roads was out of the question. Tiro thought 
 of the remaining alternatives : a tunnel, that 
 did not exist ; a balloon, there was not one. 
 Shaking his head at the hopeless problem 
 he gazed contemplatively into the clear air, 
 thinking to himself : " It would take a bird 
 to do it." 
 
 The palace was connected with the Sen- 
 ate-House and with the principal Public 
 Offices by telephone, and it happened tha:t 
 the main line of wires from the eastern end 
 of the great city passed across its roof. Tiro, 
 looking up, saw the slender threads over- 
 head; there seemed to be nearly twenty of 
 them. The War-Minister followed his gaze. 
 " Could you get along the wires ? " he asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I will try," answered the Subaltern, 
 thrilled with the idea. 
 
 Sorrento would have shaken his hand, 
 but the boy stepped backward and saluting 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 265 
 
 turned away. He entered the palace, and 
 ascended the stairs which led to the flat 
 roof. The attempt was daring and danger- 
 ous. What if the rebels should see him in 
 mid air? He had often shot with a pea-rifle 
 at rooks, black spots against the sky and 
 among the branches. The thought seemed 
 strangely disagreeable ; but he consoled him- 
 self with the reflection that men who look 
 through loopholes at the peril of their lives 
 have little leisure for aught but aiming, 
 and rarely let their eyes wander idly. He 
 stepped out on to the roof and walked to 
 the telegraph-post. There was no doubt as 
 to its strength ; nevertheless he paused, for 
 the chances against him were great, and 
 death seemed near and terrible. His reli- 
 gion, like that of many soldiers, was of little 
 help; it was merely a jumble of formulas, 
 seldom repeated, hardly understood, never 
 investigated, and a hopeful, but unauthor- 
 ised, belief that it would be well with him 
 if he did his duty like a gentleman. He 
 had no philosophy ; he felt only that he was 
 risking all that he had, and for what he was 
 
266 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 uncertain. Still, though there were gaps in 
 his reasoning, he thought it might be done 
 and he would have a dash for it. He said 
 to himself, " It will score off those swine," 
 and with this inspiring, reflection he dis- 
 missed his fears. 
 
 He swarmed up the pole to the lowest 
 wire ; then he pulled himself higher until he 
 could get his foot on the insulators. The 
 wires ran on both sides of the pole in two 
 sets. He stood on the two lowest, took the 
 top ones under his arms, and, reaching down 
 over, caught one more in each hand. Then 
 he started, shuffling awkwardly along. The 
 span was about seventy yards. As he cleared 
 the parapet he saw the street beneath him, 
 — very far beneath him, it seemed. Shots 
 were continually exchanged from the win- 
 dows of the houses and the palace. Sixty 
 feet below a dead man lay staring up through 
 the wires undazzled by the bright sun. He 
 had been under fire before, but this was a 
 novel experience. As he approached the 
 middle of the span the wires began to 
 swing, and he had to hold on tightly. At 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 267 
 
 first the slope had been on his side, but 
 after the centre was passed it rose against 
 him; his feet slipped often backwards, and 
 the wires commenced to cut into his armpits. 
 
 Two-thirds of the distance was safely ac- 
 complished, when the wires under his left 
 foot parted with a snap and dropped like a 
 whip-lash against the wall of the opposite 
 . house. His weight fell on his shoulders ; 
 the pain was sharp; he twisted, — slipped, 
 — clutched wildly, and recovered himself by 
 a tremendous effort. 
 
 A man at a lower window pulled back 
 the mattress behind which he was firing 
 and thrust his head and shoulders out. Tiro 
 looked down and their eyes met. The man 
 shouted in mad excitement, and fired his 
 rifle point-blank at the Subaltern. The 
 noise of the report prevented him from 
 knowing how near the bullet had passed; 
 but he felt he was not shot, and struggled 
 on till he had passed the street. 
 
 It was all up; yet to turn back was 
 equally fatal. " I'll see it out," he said to 
 himself, and dropped from the wires on to 
 
268 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 the roof of the house. The door from the 
 leads was open. Running down the attic 
 stairs and emerging on the landing, he 
 peered over the bannisters; no one was to 
 be seen. He descended the narrow stair- 
 case cautiously, wondering where his enemy 
 could be. Presently he was opposite the 
 front room on the second floor. Keeping 
 close to the wall he peered in. The room 
 was half-darkened. The windows were 
 blocked by boxes, portmanteaus, mattresses, 
 and pillow-cases filled with earth; broken 
 glass, mingled with bits of plaster from the 
 walls, littered the floor. By the light which 
 filtered in through the chinks and loopholes, 
 he saw a strange scene. There were four 
 men in the room; one on his back on the 
 ground, and the others bending over him. 
 Their rifles were leaned against the wall. 
 They seemed to have eyes only for their 
 comrade who lay on the floor in an ever- 
 widening pool of blood, gurgling, choking, 
 and apparently making tremendous efforts 
 to speak. 
 
 The Subaltern had seen enough. Oppo- 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 269 
 
 site the front room was a doorway covered 
 by a curtain, behind which he glided. Noth- 
 ing was to be seen, but he Hstened intently. 
 
 " Poor chap," said a voice, " he's got it 
 real bad." 
 
 " How did it happen ? " asked another. 
 
 " Oh, he leaned out of the window to have 
 a shot, — bullet hit him, — right through 
 the lungs, I think, — fired in the air, and 
 shouted." Then in a lower but still audible 
 tone he added, " Done for ! " 
 
 The wounded man began making extraor- 
 dinary noises. 
 
 " Su'thin' he wants to tell 'is pore wife 
 before he goes," said one of the Revolution- 
 aries, who seemed by his speech a workman. 
 " What is it, mate ? " 
 
 " Give him a pencil and paper ; he can't 
 speak." 
 
 Tiro's heart stood still, and his hand stole 
 back for his revolver. 
 
 For nearly a minute nothing audible hap- 
 pened ; then there was a shout. 
 
 " By God, we'll cop him ! " said the work- 
 man, and all three of them stamped past the 
 
270 THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 
 
 curtained door and ran up-stairs. One man 
 paused just opposite; he was loading his 
 rifle and the cartridge stuck; he banged it 
 on the ground, apparently with success, for 
 the Subaltern heard the bolt click, and the 
 swift footsteps followed the others towards 
 the roof. 
 
 Then he emerged from his hiding-place 
 and stole downwards. But as he passed the 
 open room he could not resist looking in. 
 The wounded man saw him in an instant. 
 He half raised himself from the ground and 
 made terrible efforts to shout ; but no articu- 
 late sound came forth. Tiro looked for a 
 moment at this stranger whom chance had 
 made his implacable enemy, and then, at the 
 prompting of that cruel devil that lurks in 
 the hearts of men and is awakened by blood- 
 shed and danger, he kissed his hand to him 
 in savage, bitter mockery. The other sank 
 backwards in a paroxysm of pain and fury 
 and lay gasping on the floor. The Subaltern 
 hurried away. Reaching the lowest storey 
 he turned into the kitchen, where the win- 
 dow was but six feet from the ground. 
 
THE DEFENCE OF THE PALACE. 27 1 
 
 Vaulting on to the sill he dropped into the 
 backyard, and then, with a sudden feeling 
 of wild panic, began to run at top speed, — 
 the terror that springs from returning hope 
 hard on his track. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 While the swift succession of great events 
 in the Lauranian capital had occupied with 
 immediate emergency the minds of the men, 
 it had been different with the women. Out 
 in the streets there had been vivid scenes, 
 hot blood, and excitement. The dangers of 
 war, and the occasion of close and involved 
 fighting, had given many opportunities for 
 acts of devotion and brutality. The brave 
 man had displayed his courage; the cruel 
 had indulged his savagery; all the inter- 
 mediate types had been thrilled with the 
 business of the moment, and there had 
 scarce been time for any but involuntary 
 terror. Within the houses it was different. 
 
 Lucile started up at the first sound of 
 firing. There was not much to hear, a dis- 
 tant and confused popping with an occa- 
 
 272 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 273 
 
 sional ragged crash ; but she knew what all 
 this meant and shuddered. The street be- 
 low seemed from the noise to be full of 
 people. She rose and going to the window 
 looked down. By the sickly, uncertain light 
 of the gas-lamps men were working busily at 
 a barricade, which ran across the street about 
 twenty yards from the door and on the side 
 towards the palace. She watched the bust- 
 ling figures with strange interest. They dis- 
 tracted her thoughts and she felt that if she 
 had nothing to look at she would go mad 
 with the dreadful suspense. Not a detail 
 escaped her. 
 
 How hard they worked! Men with 
 crowbars and pickaxes were prizing up the 
 paving-stones; others carried them along, 
 staggering under their weight; others again 
 piled them into a strong wall across the 
 road. There were two or three boys work- 
 ing away as hard as any of them. One little 
 fellow dropped the stone he was carrying on 
 his foot, and forthwith sat down to cry bit- 
 terly. His companion came up and kicked 
 him to stimulate his efforts, but he only cried 
 
274 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 the more. Presently a water-cart arrived, 
 and the thirsty builders went by threes and 
 fours to drink, dipping two tin mugs and a 
 gallipot in the water. 
 
 The people in the houses round were 
 made to open their doors, and the rebels 
 unceremoniously dragged out all sorts of 
 things to put on their barricade. One party 
 discovered several barrels which they ap- 
 peared to consider a valuable prize. Knock- 
 ing in the end of one cask they began filling 
 it, spadeful by spadeful, with the earth which 
 the removal of the pavement had laid bare. 
 It was a long business, but at last they 
 finished and tried to lift the barrel on to the 
 wall; but it was too heavy, and falling with 
 a crash to the ground it broke all in pieces. 
 At this they were furious and disputed 
 angrily, till an ofScer with a red sash came 
 up and silenced them. They did not attempt 
 to fill the other casks, but re-entering the 
 house brought out a comfortable sofa and 
 sat down on it sullenly, lighting their pipes. 
 One by one, however, they got to work again, 
 coming out of their sulky fit by degrees, and 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 275 
 
 careful of their dignity. And all this time 
 the barricade grew steadily. 
 
 Lucile wondered why no one had entered 
 -Savrola's house. Presently she perceived 
 the reason ; there was a picket of four men 
 with rifles on the doorstep. Nothing had 
 been forgotten by that comprehensive mind. 
 So the hours passed. From time to time 
 her thoughts reverted to the tragedy which 
 had swept upon her life, and she would sink 
 back on to the sofa in despair. Once, from 
 sheer weariness, she dozed for an hour. The 
 distant firing had died away and, though 
 single shots were occasionally heard, the 
 city was generally silent. Waking with a 
 strange feeling of uneasy trouble she ran 
 again to the window. The barricade was 
 completed now, and the builders were lying 
 down behind it. Their weapons leaned 
 against the wall on which two or three 
 watchers stood, looking constantly up the 
 street. 
 
 Presently there was a hammering at the 
 street-door, which made her heart beat with 
 fear. She leaned cautiously out of the win- 
 
276 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 dow. The picket was still at its post, but 
 another man had joined them. Finding that 
 he could not obtain an answer to his knock- 
 ing, he stooped down, pushed something 
 under the door, and went his way. After a 
 time she summoned up courage to creep 
 down, through the darkness of the staircase, 
 to see what this might be. By the light of 
 a match she saw that it was a note addressed 
 simply Lucile with the number of the house 
 and street, — for the streets were all num- 
 bered in Laurania as in American cities. It 
 was from Savrola, in pencil and to this effect: 
 The city and forts have passed into our hands, 
 but there will be fighting at daylight. On no 
 account leave the house or expose yourself. 
 
 Fighting at daylight ! She looked at the 
 clock, — a quarter to five, and already the 
 sky was growing brighter ; the time was at 
 hand then! Fear, grief, anxiety, and, not 
 the least painful, resentment at her husband 
 conflicted in her mind. But the sleeping 
 figures behind the barricade seemed to be 
 troubled by none of these feelings ; they lay 
 silent and still, weary men who had no cares. 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 277. 
 
 But she knew it was coming, something loud 
 and terrible that would wake them with a 
 start. She felt as though she was watching 
 a play at the theatre, the window suggesting 
 a box. She had turned from it for a mo- 
 ment, when suddenly a rifle-shot rang out, 
 apparently about three hundred yards down 
 the street towards the palace. Then there 
 was a splutter of firing, a bugle-call, and the 
 sound of shouting. The defenders of the 
 barricade sprang up in mad haste and seized 
 their weapons. There was more firing, but 
 still they did not reply, and she dared not 
 put her head out of the window to see what 
 prevented them. They were all greatly ex- 
 cited, holding their rifles over the barricade, 
 and many talking in quick short sentences. 
 In a moment a crowd of men, nearly a hun- 
 dred it seemed, ran up to the wall and began 
 scrambling over, helped by the others. They 
 were friends, then; it occurred to her that 
 there must be another barricade, and that 
 the one under the window was in the second 
 line. This was actually the case, and the 
 first had been captured. All the time fir- 
 
278 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 ing from the direction of the palace con- 
 tinued. 
 
 As soon as the fugitives were all across 
 the wall, the defenders of the second line 
 began to fire. The rifles close by sounded 
 so much louder than the others, and gave 
 forth such bright flashes. But the light was 
 growing every minute, and soon she could 
 see the darting puffs of smoke. The rebels 
 were armed with many kinds of firearms. 
 Some, with old, muzzle-loading muskets, had 
 to stand up and descend from the barricade 
 to use their ramrods ; others, armed with 
 more modern weapons, remained crouching 
 behind their cover and fired continually. 
 
 The scene, filled with little foreshortened 
 figures, still suggested the stage of a theatre 
 viewed from the gallery. She did not as yet 
 feel frightened; no harm had been done, 
 and no one seemed to be any the worse. 
 
 She had scarcely completed this thought 
 when she noticed a figure being lifted off 
 the barricade to the ground. In the grow- 
 ing daylight the pale face showed distinctly, 
 and a deadly feeling of sickness came over 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 279 
 
 her in a moment ; but she stood spell-bound 
 by the sight. Four men went off with the 
 wounded one, carrying him by the shoulders 
 and feet, so that he drooped in the middle. 
 When they had passed out of her view, she 
 looked back to the wall. There were five 
 more men wounded ; four had to be carried, 
 the other leaned on a comrade's arm. Two 
 more figures had also been pulled off the 
 barricade, and laid carelessly on the pave- 
 ment out of the way. Nobody seemed to 
 take any notice of these, but just let them 
 lie close to the area-railings. 
 
 Then from the far end of the street came 
 the sound of drums and the shrill call of a 
 bugle, repeated again and again. The rebels 
 began to shoot in mad excitement as fast as 
 they could ; several fell, and above the noise 
 of the firing rose a strange sound, a sort of 
 hoarse, screaming whoop, coming momen- 
 tarily nearer. 
 
 A man on the barricade jumped off and 
 began to run down the street; five, six 
 others followed at once ; then all the defend- 
 ers but three hurried away from that strange 
 
280 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 approaching cry. Several tried to drag with 
 them the wounded, of which there already 
 were a few more; these cried out in pain 
 and begged to be left alone. One man, she 
 saw, dragging another by the ankle, bump- 
 ing him along the rough roadway in spite of 
 his entreaties. The three men who had 
 stayed fired methodically from behind their 
 breastwork. All this took several seconds ; 
 and the menacing shout came nearer and 
 louder all the time. 
 
 Then in an instant a wave of men, — 
 soldiers in blue uniforms faced with buff — 
 surged up to the barricade and over it. An 
 officer, quite a boy, in front of them all, 
 jumped down the other side, shouting, 
 " Make a clear sweep of the cowardly devils, 
 — come on ! " 
 
 The three steadfast men had disappeared 
 as rocks beneath the. incoming tide. Crowds 
 of soldiers climbed over the barricade; she 
 could see groups of them swarming round 
 each of the wounded rebels, jobbing down- 
 wards with their bayonets savagely. And 
 then the spell broke, the picture swam, and 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 281 
 
 she rushed screaming from the window to 
 plunge her face among the sofa-cushions. 
 
 The uproar was now terrific. The mus- 
 ketry-fire was loud and continuous, especially 
 from the direction of the main avenue which 
 ran parallel to the street in which Savrola 
 lived, and the shouting and trampling of men 
 added to the din. Gradually the wave of 
 fighting rolled past the house and on towards 
 the Mayoralty. As she realised this, all her 
 own troubles returned to her mind. The 
 fight was going against the rebels; she 
 thought of Savrola. And then she prayed, 
 — prayed convulsively, sending her entreaties 
 into space in the hope that they would not 
 fall on unheeding ears. She spoke no name ; 
 but the gods, who are omniscient, may 
 have guessed, with sardonic smiles, that she 
 prayed for the victory of the rebel she loved 
 over her husband, the President. 
 
 Presently there was a tremendous noise 
 from the direction of the Mayoralty. " Can- 
 nons," she thought, but she dared not look 
 out of the window; the horrid sights had 
 sickened curiosity itself. But she could hear 
 
282 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 the fire coming nearer, coming back again ; 
 and at that she felt a strange joy ; something 
 of the joy of success in war, amid all her 
 terrors. There was a noise of people stream- 
 ing past the house; shots were fired under 
 the windows ; then came a great hammering 
 and battering at the street-door. They were 
 breaking into the house ! She rushed to the 
 door of the room and locked it. Down-stairs 
 there were several shots, and the noise of 
 splintering wood. The firing of the retreat- 
 ing troops drifted back past the house and 
 towards the palace ; but she did not heed it ; 
 another sound paralysed her attention, the 
 sound of approaching footsteps. Someone 
 was coming up-stairs. She held her breath. 
 The handle turned, and then the unknown, 
 finding the door locked, kicked it savagely. 
 Lucile screamed. 
 
 The kicking ceased, and she heard the 
 stranger give a dreadful groan. " For the 
 mercy of Heaven, let me in ! I am wounded 
 and have no arms." He began to wail piti- 
 fully. 
 
 Lucile listened. It seemed that there was 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 283 
 
 but one, and if he were wounded, he would not 
 harm her. There was another groan outside. 
 Human sympathy rose in her heart; she 
 unlocked the door and opened it cautiously. 
 
 A man walked quickly into the room : it 
 was Miguel. " I beg Your Excellency's par- 
 don," he said suavely, with that composure 
 which always strengthened his mean soul; 
 " I am in need of a hiding-place." 
 
 " But your wound ? " she said. 
 
 " A ruse-de-guerre ; I wanted you to let me 
 in. Where can I hide ? They may be here 
 soon." 
 
 " There on the roof, or in the observatory," 
 she said pointing to the other door. 
 
 " Do not tell them." 
 
 " Why should I ? " she replied. Calm 
 though the man undoubtedly was, she de- 
 spised him ; there was no dirt, she knew well, 
 that he would not eat if it suited his purpose 
 to do so. 
 
 He went up and concealed himself on the 
 roof under the big telescope. Meanwhile 
 she waited. Emotions had succeeded each 
 other so rapidly that day in her heart that 
 
284 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 she felt incapable of further stress; a dull 
 feeling of pain remained, like the numbness 
 and sense of injury after a severe wound. 
 The firing receded towards the palace, and 
 presently all was comparatively silent in the 
 city again. 
 
 At about nine o'clock the bell of the front- 
 entrance rang ; but she did not dare to leave 
 the room now that the door was broken 
 down. Then after a while came the sound 
 of people coming up-stairs. 
 
 " There is no lady here ; the young lady 
 went back the night before last to her 
 aunt's," said a voice. It was the old woman's ; 
 with a bound of joy and a passionate craving, 
 for the sympathy of her own sex, Lucile 
 rushed to the door and opened it. Bettine 
 was there, and with her an officer of the 
 rebel army, who handed a letter to her with 
 these words : " The President sends this to 
 you, Madam." 
 
 " The President ! " 
 
 " Of the Council of Public Safety." 
 
 The note merely informed her that the 
 Govsrnment troops had been repulsed and 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 285 
 
 ended with the words: Only one result is 
 now possible^ and that will be attained in a 
 few hours. 
 
 The officer, saying that he would wait 
 down-stairs in case she might wish to send 
 an answer, left the room. Lucile pulled the 
 old nurse inside the door and embraced her, 
 weeping. Where had she been all that 
 terrible night? Bettine had been in the 
 cellar. It seemed that Savrola had thought 
 of her as of everything ; he had told her to 
 take her bed down there, and had even had 
 the place carpeted and furnished on the pre- 
 ceding afternoon. There she had remained 
 as he had told her. Her perfect trust in her 
 idol had banished all fears on her own ac- 
 count, but she had " fidgeted terribly " about 
 him. He was all she had in the world; 
 others dissipate their affections on a hus- 
 band, children, brothers, and sisters ; all the 
 love of her kind old heart was centred in 
 the man she had fostered since he was a 
 helpless baby. And he did not forget. She 
 displayed with pride a slip of paper, bearing 
 the words, Safe and well. 
 
286 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 There was now a subdued sound of firing, 
 from the direction of the palace, which con- 
 tinued throughout the morning ; but Miguel, 
 seeing that the streets were again quiet, 
 emerged from his concealment and re-entered 
 the room. " I want to see the President," 
 he said. 
 
 " My husband ? " asked Lucile. 
 
 " No, Your Excellency, Seiior Savrola." 
 Miguel was quick in adapting himself to 
 circumstances. 
 
 Lucile thought of the officer; she men- 
 tioned him to Miguel. " He will take you 
 to the Mayoralty." 
 
 The Secretary was delighted; he ran 
 down-stairs and they saw him no more. 
 
 The old nurse, with a practical soul, busied 
 herself about getting breakfast. Lucile, to 
 divert her thoughts, aided her, and soon — 
 such is our composition — found comfort in 
 eggs and bacon. They were relieved to find 
 that a picket had again been posted at 
 the street-door. Bettine discovered this, for 
 Lucile, her mood unchanged, would not look 
 into the street where she had seen such grim 
 
FROM A WINDOW. 287 
 
 spectacles. And she did right, for though 
 the barricade was now deserted, nearly 
 twenty objects that had a few hours before 
 been men, lay around or upon it. But 
 about eleven some labourers arrived with two 
 scavengers' carts ; and soon only the blood- 
 stains on the pavement showed that there 
 had been any destruction other than that of 
 property. 
 
 The morning wore slowly and anxiously 
 away. The firing near the palace was con- 
 tinual, but distant. Sometimes it swelled 
 into a dull roar, at others the individual shots 
 sounded in a sort of quick rattle. At last, 
 at about half-past two, it stopped abruptly. 
 Lucile trembled. The quarrel had been 
 decided, one way or the other. Her mind 
 refused to face all the possibilities. At times 
 she clung in passionate fear to the old nurse, 
 who tried in vain to soothe her; at others 
 she joined her in the household tasks, or sub- 
 mitted to tasting the various meals which the 
 poor old soul prepared for her in the hopes 
 of killing care with comfort. 
 
 The ominous silence that followed the 
 
288 FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 cessation of the firing did not last long. It 
 was while Lucile was being coaxed by Bet- 
 tine to eat some custard-pudding that she 
 had made on purpose for her, that the report 
 of the first great gun reached them. The 
 tremendous explosion, though a long way o£E, 
 made the windows rattle. She shuddered. 
 What was this ? She had hoped that all was 
 over; but one explosion succeeded another, 
 until the thundei' of a cannonade from the 
 harbour almost drowned their voices. It 
 was a weary waiting for the two women. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Lieutenant Tiro reached the Mayoralty 
 in safety, for though the streets were full of 
 excited people, they were peaceful citizens, 
 and on his proclaiming that he had been 
 sent to see Savrola they allowed him to pass. 
 The Municipal building was a magnificent 
 structure of white stone, elaborately deco- 
 rated with statuary and sculpture. In front 
 of it, surrounded by iron railings and acces- 
 sible by three gateways, stretched a wide 
 courtyard, in which a great fountain, encir- 
 cled by the marble figures of departed civic 
 magnates, played continually with agreeable 
 effect. The whole edifice was worthy of 
 the riches and splendour of the Lauranian 
 capital. 
 
 Two sentries of the rebel forces stood on 
 guard with fixed bayonets at the central 
 
 289 
 
290 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 gateway, and allowed none to enter without 
 due authority. Messengers were hurrying 
 across the courtyard incessantly, and order- 
 lies coming or going at a gallop. With- 
 out the gates a large crowd, for the most 
 part quiet, though greatly agitated, filled the 
 broad thoroughfare. Wild rumours circu- 
 lated at random in the mass and the excite- 
 ment was intense. The sound of distant 
 firing was distinct and continuous. 
 
 Tiro made his way through the crowd 
 without much difficulty, but found his path 
 blocked by the sentries at the gateway. 
 They refused to allow him to proceed, and 
 for a moment he feared that he had run his 
 risks in vain. Luckily, however, he was 
 recognised as Molara's aide-de-camp by one 
 of the Municipal attendants who were loiter- 
 ing in the courtyard. He wrote his name 
 on a piece of paper and requested the man 
 to take it to Savrola or, as he was now 
 styled, the President of the Council of Pub- 
 lic Safety. The servant departed, and after 
 ten minutes returned with an officer, resplen- 
 dent with the red sash of the Revolutionary 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 29 1 
 
 party, who bade the Subaltern follow him 
 forthwith. 
 
 The hall of the Mayoralty was full of 
 excited and voluble patriots who were eager 
 to serve the cause of Liberty, if it could be 
 done without risking their lives. They all 
 wore red sashes and talked loudly, discuss- 
 ing the despatches from the fight which 
 arrived by frequent messengers and were 
 posted on the walls. Tiro and his guide 
 passed through the hall and hurrying along 
 a passage arrived at the entrance of a small 
 committee-room. Several ushers and mes- 
 sengers stood around it; an officer was on 
 duty outside. He opened the door and 
 announced the Subaltern. 
 
 " Certainly," said a well-known voice, and 
 Tiro entered. It was a small, wainscotted 
 apartment with two tall and deeply set 
 glazed windows shaded by heavy, faded 
 curtains of reddish hue. Savrola was writ- 
 ing at a table in the middle of the room; 
 Godoy and Renos were talking near one of 
 the windows; another man, whom for the 
 moment he did not recognise, was busily 
 
292 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE, 
 
 scribbling in the corner. The great Demo- 
 crat looked up. 
 
 "Good-morning, Tiro," he said cheerily, 
 then, seeing the serious and impatient look 
 on the boy's face, he asked him what had 
 happened. Tiro told him quickly of the 
 President's wish to surrender the palace. 
 " Well," said Savrola, " Moret is there, and 
 he has full powers." 
 
 " He is dead." 
 
 " How ? " asked Savrola, in a low pained 
 voice. 
 
 "Shot in the throat," replied the Subal- 
 tern laconically. 
 
 Savrola had turned very white; he was 
 fond of Moret and they had long been 
 friends. A feeling of disgust at the whole 
 struggle came over him ; he repressed it ; 
 this was no time for regrets. " You mean 
 that the crowd will accept no surrender ? " 
 
 " I mean they have probably massacred 
 them all by now." 
 
 "What time was Moret killed.?" 
 
 " A quarter-past twelve." 
 
 Savrola took up a paper that lay beside 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 293 
 
 him on the table. "This was sent off at 
 half-past twelve." 
 
 Tiro looked at it. It was signed Morei 
 and ran as follows: Ant preparing for final 
 assault. All well. 
 
 " It is a forgery," said the Subaltern simply. 
 " I started myself before the half-hour, and 
 Senor Moret had been dead ten minutes 
 then. Somebody has assumed the com- 
 mand." 
 
 " By Jove," said Savrola getting up from 
 the table. " Kreutze ! " He caught up his 
 hat and cane. " Come on ; he will most 
 certainly murder Molara, and probably the 
 others, if he is not stopped. I must go there 
 myself." 
 
 " What } " said Renos. " Most irregular ; 
 your place is here." 
 
 " Send an officer," suggested Godoy. 
 
 " I have none to send of sufficient power 
 with the people, unless you will go yourself." 
 
 " I ! No, certainly not ! I would not think 
 of it," said Godoy quickly. " It would be 
 useless ; I have no authority over the mob." 
 
 "That is not quite the tone you have 
 
294 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 adopted all the morning," replied Savrola 
 quietly, "or at least since the Government 
 attack was repulsed." Then turning to Tiro, 
 he said, " Let us start." 
 
 They were leaving the room when the 
 Subaltern saw that the man who had been 
 writing in the corner was looking at him. 
 To his astonishment he recognised Miguel. 
 
 The Secretary bowed satirically. " Here 
 we are again," he said ; " you were wise to 
 follow." 
 
 " You insult me," said Tiro with profound 
 contempt. " Rats leave a sinking ship." 
 
 " The wiser they," rejoined the Secretary ; 
 ■' they could do no good by staying. I have 
 always heard that aides-de-camp are the first 
 to leave a fight." 
 
 " You are a damned dirty dog," said the 
 Subaltern falling back on a rudimentary 
 form of repartee with which he was more 
 familiar. 
 
 " I can wait no longer," said Savrola in 
 a voice that was a plain command. Tiro 
 obeyed, and they left the room. 
 
 Walking down the passage and through 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 295 
 
 the hall, where Savrola was loudly cheered, 
 they reached the entrance, where a carriage 
 was waiting. A dozen mounted men, with 
 red sashes and rifles, ranged themselves 
 about it as an escort. The crowd outside 
 the gates, seeing the great leader and hear- 
 ing the applause within, raised a shout. Sav- 
 rola turned to the commander of the escort. 
 " I need no guard," he said ; " that is neces- 
 sary only for tyrants. I will go alone." The 
 escort fell back. The two men entered the 
 carriage and, drawn by strong horses, passed 
 out into the streets. 
 
 "You dislike Miguel?" asked Savrola 
 after a while. 
 
 " He is a traitor." 
 
 " There are plenty about the city. Now I 
 suppose you would call me a traitor." 
 
 "Ah! but you have always been one," 
 replied Tiro bluntly. Savrola gave a short 
 laugh. " I mean," continued the other, 
 " that you have always been trying to upset 
 things." 
 
 " I have been loyal to my trea,chery," sug- 
 gested Savrola. 
 
296 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 " Yes, — we have always been at war with 
 you ; but this viper " 
 
 " Well," said Savrola, " you must take men 
 as you find them ; few are disinterested. 
 The viper, as you call him, is a poor crea- 
 ture ; but he saved my life, and asked me to 
 save his in return. What could I do ? Be- 
 sides he is of use. He knows the exact state 
 of the public finances and is acquainted with 
 the details of the foreign policy. What are 
 we stopping for ? " 
 
 Tiro looked out. The street was closed 
 by a barricade which made it a cul-de-sac. 
 " Try the next turning," he said to the 
 coachman ; " go on quickly." The noise 
 of the firing could now be distinctly heard. 
 " We very nearly pulled it off this morn- 
 ing," said Tiro. 
 
 "Yes," answered Savrola; "they told me 
 the attack was repulsed with difficulty." 
 
 " Where were you ? " asked the boy in 
 great astonishment. 
 
 "At the Mayoralty, asleep; I was very 
 tired." 
 
 Tiro was conscious of an irresistible feel- 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 297 
 
 ing of disgust. So he was a coward, this 
 great man. He had always heard that 
 politicians took care of their skins, and 
 sent others to fight their battles. Some- 
 how he had thought that Savrola was dif- 
 ferent : he knew such a lot about polo ; but 
 he was the same as all the rest. 
 
 Savrola, ever quick to notice, saw his 
 look and again laughed dryly. " You think 
 I ought to have been in the streets? Be- 
 lieve me, I did more good where I was. 
 If you had seen the panic and terror at the 
 Mayoralty during the fighting, you would 
 have recognised that there were worse 
 things to do than to go to sleep in confi- 
 dence. Besides, everything in human power 
 had been done; and we had not miscalcu- 
 lated." 
 
 Tiro remained unconvinced. His good 
 opinion of Savrola was destroyed. He had 
 heard much of this man's political courage. • 
 The physical always outweighed the moral 
 in his mind. He felt reluctantly convinced 
 that he was a mere word-spinner, brave 
 enough where speeches were concerned, 
 
298 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 but careful when sterner work was to be 
 done. 
 
 The carriage stopped again. " All these 
 streets are barricaded, Sir," said the coach- 
 man. 
 
 Savrola looked out of the window. " We 
 are close there, let us walk ; it is only half 
 a mile across Constitution Square." He 
 jumped out. The barricade was deserted, as 
 were the streets in this part of the town. 
 Most of the violent rebels were attacking 
 the palace, and the peaceable citizens were 
 in their houses or outside the Mayoralty, 
 
 They scrambled over the rough wall, which 
 was made of paving-stones and sacks of earth 
 piled under and upon two waggons, and 
 hurried down the street beyond. It led to 
 the great square of the city. At the further 
 end was the Parliament House, with the 
 red flag of revolt flying from its tower. 
 • An entrenchment had been dug in front 
 of the entrance, and the figures of some of 
 the rebel soldiery were visible on it. 
 
 They had gone about a quarter of the 
 distance across the square, when suddenly, 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 299 
 
 from the entrenchment or barricade three 
 hundred ya'rds away, there darted a puff of 
 smoke; five or six more followed in quick 
 succession. Savrola paused, astonished, but 
 the Subaltern understood at once. " Run 
 for it ! " he cried. " The statue, — there is 
 cover behind it." 
 
 Savrola began to run as fast as he could. 
 The firing from the barricade continued. 
 He heard two sucking kisses in the air; 
 something struck the pavement in front of 
 him so that the splinters flew, and while he 
 passed a grey smudge appeared ; there was 
 a loud tang on the area-railings beside him ; 
 the dust of the roadway sprang up in several 
 strange spurts. As he ran, the realisation of 
 what these things meant grew stronger ; but 
 the distance was short and he reached the 
 statue alive. Behind its massive pedestal 
 there was ample shelter for both. 
 
 " They fired at us." 
 
 " They did," replied Tiro. " Damn them ! " 
 
 " But why .? " 
 
 " My uniform — devilry — running man — 
 good fun, you know — for them." 
 
300 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 " We must go on," said Savrola. 
 
 " We can't go on across the square." 
 
 " Which way, then ? " 
 
 "We must work down the street away 
 from them, keeping the statue between us 
 and their fire, and get up one of the streets 
 to the left." 
 
 A main street ran through the centre of 
 the great square, and led out of it at right 
 angles to the direction in which they were 
 proceeding. It was possible to retire down 
 this under cover of the statue, and to take a 
 parallel street further along. This would 
 enable them to avoid the fire from the en- 
 trenchment, or would at least reduce the 
 dangerous space to a few yards. Savrola 
 looked in the direction Tiro indicated. 
 " Surely this is shorter," he said pointing 
 across the square. 
 
 " Much shorter," answered the Subaltern ; 
 "in about three seconds it will take you to 
 another world." 
 
 Savrola rose. " Come on," he said ; " I do 
 not allow such considerations to affect my 
 judgment. The lives of men are at stake; 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 30I 
 
 t 
 
 the time is short. Besides, this is an educa- 
 tional experience." 
 
 The blood was in his cheeks and his eyes 
 sparkled; all that was reckless in him, all 
 his love of excitement, stirred in his veins. 
 Tiro looked at him amazed. Brave as he 
 was, he saw no pleasure in rushing to his 
 death at the heels of a mad politician ; but 
 he allowed no man to show him the way. 
 He said no more, but drew back to the far 
 end of the pedestal, so as to gain pace, and 
 then bounded into the open and ran as fast 
 as he could run. 
 
 How he got across he never knew. One 
 bullet cut the peak of his cap, another tore 
 his trousers. He had seen many men killed 
 in action, and anticipated the fearful blow 
 that would bring him down with a smash on 
 the pavement. Instinctively he raised his 
 left arm as if to shield his face. At length 
 he reached safety, breathless and incredu- 
 lous. Then he looked back. Half way 
 across was Savrola, walking steadily and 
 drawn up to his full height. Thirty yards 
 away he stopped and, taking off his felt hat, 
 
302 AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE, 
 
 waved it in defiance at the distant barricade. 
 Tiro saw him start as he lifted his arm, and 
 his hat fell to the ground. He did not pick 
 it up, and in a moment was beside him, his 
 face pale, his teeth set, every muscle rigid. 
 " Now tell me," he said, " do you call that a 
 hot fire ? " 
 
 " You are mad," replied the Subaltern. 
 
 "Why, may I ask?" 
 
 " What is the use of throwing away your 
 life, of waiting to taunt them ? " 
 
 " Ah," he answered, much excited, " I 
 waved my hat in the face of Fate, not at 
 those wretched irresponsible animals. Now 
 to the palace; perhaps we are already too 
 late." 
 
 They hurried on through the deserted 
 streets with the sound of musketry growing 
 ever louder, and mingling with it now the 
 shouts and yells of a crowd. As they ap- 
 proached the scene they passed through 
 groups of people, peaceful citizens for the 
 most part, anxiously looking towards the 
 tumult. Several glanced fiercely at the sol- 
 dier whose uniform made him conspicuous ; 
 
AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE. 303 
 
 but many took off their hats to Savrola. A 
 long string of stretchers, each with a pale, 
 shattered figure on it, passed by, filing slowly 
 away from the fight. The press became 
 thicker, and arms were now to be seen on 
 all sides. Mutinous soldiers still in their 
 uniforms, workmen in blouses, others in the 
 dress of the National Militia, and all wear- 
 ing the red sash of the revolt, filled the 
 street. But Savrola's name had spread be- 
 fore him and the crowd divided, with cheers, 
 to give him passage. 
 
 Suddenly the firing in front ceased, and 
 for a space there was silence, followed by 
 a ragged spluttering volley and a low roar 
 from many throats. 
 
 " It's all over," said the Subaltern. 
 
 " Faster ! " cried Savrola. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour after Lieu- 
 tenant Tiro had escaped along the tele- 
 graph-wires, the attack on the palace was 
 renewed with vigour. It seemed, moreover, 
 that the rebels had found a new leader, for 
 they displayed considerable combination in 
 their tactics. The firing increased on all 
 sides. Then, under cover of their musketry, 
 the enemy debouched simultaneously from 
 several streets, and, rushing down the great 
 avenue, delivered a general assault. The 
 garrison fired steadily and with effect, but 
 there were not enough bullets to stop the 
 advancing crowds. Many fell, but the rest 
 pressed on impetuously and found shelter 
 under the wall of the courtyard. The de- 
 fenders, realising they could no longer hold 
 this outer line of defence, fell back to the 
 
 304 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL. 305 
 
 building itself, where they maintained them- 
 selves among the great pillars of the en- 
 trance, and for some time held the enemy's 
 fire in check by shooting accurately at all 
 those who put their heads over the wall or 
 exposed themselves. Gradually, however, 
 the rebels, by their great numbers, gained 
 the supremacy in the fire-fight, and the de- 
 fenders in their turn found it dangerous to 
 show themselves to shoot. 
 
 The musketry of the attack grew heavier, 
 while that of the defence dwindled. The 
 assailants now occupied the whole of the 
 outer wall, and at length completely silenced 
 the fire of the surviving adherents of the 
 Government. Twenty rifles were discharged 
 at any head that showed ; yet they showed a 
 prudent respect for these determined men, 
 and gave no chances away. Under cover 
 of their fire, and of the courtyard wall, they 
 brought up the field-gun with which the gate 
 had been broken in, and from a range of a 
 hundred yards discharged it at the palace. 
 The shell smashed through the masonry, 
 and burst in the great hall. Another fol- 
 
306 THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 lowed, passing almost completely through 
 the building and exploding in the break- 
 fast-room on the further side. The curtains, 
 carpets, and chairs caught fire and began to 
 burn briskly ; it was evident that the defence 
 of the palace was drawing to a close. 
 
 Sorrento, who had long schooled himself 
 to look upon all events of war from a purely 
 professional standpoint, and who boasted 
 that the military operation he preferred 
 above all others was the organising of a 
 rearguard from a defeated army, felt that 
 nothing further could be done. He ap- 
 proached the President. 
 
 Molara stood in the great hall where he 
 had lived and ruled for five years with a 
 bitter look of despair upon his face. The 
 mosaic of the pavement was ripped and 
 scored by the iron splinters of the shells; 
 great fragments of the painted roof had 
 fallen to the ground; the crimson curtains 
 were smouldering; the broken glass of the 
 windows lay on the floor, and heavy clouds 
 of smoke were curling in from the further 
 side of the palace. The President's figure 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL. 307 
 
 and expression accorded well with the scene 
 of ruin and destruction. 
 
 Sorrento saluted with much ceremony. 
 He had only his military code to believe in, 
 and he took firm hold of that. "Owing, 
 Sir," he began officially, " to the rebels hav- 
 ing brought a gun into action at close range, 
 it is my duty to inform you that this place 
 has now become untenable. It will be neces- 
 sary to capture the gun by a charge, and 
 expel the enemy from the courtyard." 
 
 The President knew what he meant ; they 
 should rush out and die fighting. The agony 
 of the moment was intense ; the actual dread 
 of death was increased by the sting of unsat- 
 isfied revenge ; he groaned aloud. 
 
 Suddenly a loud shout arose from the 
 crowd. They had seen the smoke of the 
 fire and knew that the end was at hand. 
 " Molara, Molara, come out ! Dictator," they 
 cried, " come out or burn ! " 
 
 It often happens that, when men are con- 
 vinced that they have to die, a desire to bear 
 themselves well and to leave life's stage with 
 dignity conquers all other sensations. Mo- 
 
308 THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 lara remembered that, after all, he had lived 
 famous among men. He had been almost a 
 king. All the eyes of the world would be 
 turned to the scene about to be enacted ; 
 distant countries would know, distant ages 
 would reflect. It was worth while dying 
 bravely, since die he must. 
 
 He called his last defenders around him. 
 There were but thirty left, and of these some 
 were wounded. " Gentlemen," he said, " you 
 have been faithful to the end ; I will demand 
 no more sacrifices of you. My death may 
 appease those wild beasts. I give you back 
 your allegiance, and authorise you to sur- 
 render." 
 
 " Never ! " said Sorrento. 
 
 " It is a military order, Sir," answered the 
 President, and walked towards the door. 
 He stepped through the shattered woodwork 
 and out on the broad flight of steps. The 
 courtyard was filled with the crowd. Molara 
 advanced until he had descended half way ; 
 then he paused. " Here I am," he said. The 
 crowd stared. For a moment he stood there 
 in the bright sunlight. His dark blue uni- 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL, 309 
 
 form-coat, on which the star of Laurania and 
 many orders and decorations of foreign coun- 
 tries glittered, was open, showing his white 
 shirt beneath it. He was bare-headed and 
 drew himself up to his full height. For a 
 while there was silence. 
 
 Then from all parts of the courtyard, from 
 the wall that overlooked it and even from 
 the windows of the opposite houses, a ragged 
 fusilade broke out. The President's head 
 jerked forward, his legs shot from under him 
 and he fell to the ground, quite limp. The 
 body rolled down two or three steps and lay 
 twitching feebly. A man in a dark suit of 
 clothes, and who apparently exercised au- 
 thority over the crowd, advanced towards it. 
 Presently there was a single shot. 
 
 At the same moment Savrola and his 
 companion, stepping through the broken 
 gateway, entered the courtyard. The mob 
 gave passage readily, but in a sullen and 
 guilty silence. 
 
 " Keep close to me," said Savrola to the 
 Subaltern. He walked straight towards the 
 steps which were not as yet invaded by 
 
3IO THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 the rebel soldiery. The officers among the 
 pillars had, with the cessation of the firing, 
 begun to show themselves ; someone waved 
 a handkerchief. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Savrola in a loud voice, 
 " I call upon you to surrender. Your lives 
 shall be spared." 
 
 Sorrento stepped forward. " By the orders 
 of His Excellency I surrender the palace and 
 the Government troops who have defended 
 it. I do so on a promise that their lives 
 shall be safe." 
 
 " Certainly," said Savrola. " Where is the 
 President ? " Sorrento pointed to the other 
 side of the steps. Savrola turned and walked 
 towards the spot. 
 
 Antonio Molara, sometime President of 
 the Republic of Laurania, lay on the three 
 lowest steps of the entrance of his palace, 
 head downwards ; a few yards away in a ring 
 stood the people he had ruled. A man in a 
 black suit was reloading his revolver ; it was 
 Karl Kreutze, the Number One of the Secret 
 Society. The President had bled profusely 
 from several bullet-wounds in the body, but 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL. 311 
 
 it was evident that the coup de grace had 
 been administered by a shot in the head. The 
 back and left side of the skull behind the ear 
 was blown away, and the force of the explo- 
 sion, probably at close quarters, had cracked 
 all the bones of the face so that as the skin 
 was whole, it looked like broken china in a 
 sponge bag. 
 
 Savrola stopped aghast. He looked at 
 the crowd, and they shrank from his eye; 
 gradually they shufifled back, leaving the 
 sombre-clad man alone face to face with the 
 great Democrat. A profound hush over- 
 spread the whole mass of men. " Who has 
 committed this murder ? " he asked in low 
 hoarse tones, fixing his glance on the head 
 of the Secret Society. 
 
 " It is not a murder," replied the man 
 doggedly ; " it is an execution." 
 
 " By whose authority } " 
 
 " In the name of the Society." 
 
 When Savrola had seen the body of his 
 enemy, he was stricken with horror, but at 
 the same time a dreadful joy convulsed his 
 heart; the barrier was now removed. He 
 
312 THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 struggled to repress the feeling, and of the 
 struggle anger was born. Kreutze's words 
 infuriated him. A sense of maddening 
 irritation shook his whole system. All this 
 must fall on his name ; what would Europe 
 think, what would the world say? Remorse, 
 shame, pity, and the wicked joy he tried to 
 crush, all fused into reckless ungovernable 
 passion. " Vile scum ! " he cried, and step- 
 ping down he slashed the other across the 
 face with his cane. 
 
 The man sprang at his throat on the 
 sudden impulse of intense pain. But Lieu- 
 tenant Tiro had drawn his sword; with a 
 strong arm and a hearty good will he met 
 him with all the sweep of a downward cut, 
 and rolled him on the ground. 
 
 The spring was released, and the fury of 
 the populace broke out. A loud shout arose. 
 Great as was Savrola's reputation among the 
 Revolutionaries, these men had known other 
 and inferior leaders more intimately. Karl 
 Kreutze was a man of the people. His 
 socialistic writings had been widely read ; as 
 the head of the Secret Society he had certain 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL. 313 
 
 assured influences to support him, and he had 
 conducted the latter part of the attack on the 
 palace. Now he had been destroyed before 
 their eyes by one of the hated officers. The 
 crowd surged forward shouting in savage 
 anger. 
 
 Savrola sprang backwards up the steps. 
 " Citizens, listen to me ! " he cried. " You 
 have won a victory; do not disgrace it. Your 
 valour and patriotism have triumphed ; do 
 not forget that it is for our ancient Constitu- 
 tion that you have fought." He was inter- 
 rupted by shouts and jeers. 
 
 " What have I done ? " he rejoined. " As 
 much as any here. I too have risked my life 
 in the great cause. Is there a man here that 
 has a wound .'' Let him stand forth, for we 
 are comrades." And for the first time, with 
 a proud gesture, he lifted his left arm. Tiro 
 perceived the reason of the start he had 
 given when running the gauntlet in Consti- 
 tution Square. The sleeve of his coat was 
 torn and soaked with blood; the linen of his 
 shirt protruded crimson ; his fingers were 
 stiff and smeared all over. 
 
314 THE END OF THE QUARREL. 
 
 The impression produced was tremendous. 
 The mob, to whom the dramatic always ap- 
 peals with peculiar force, were also swayed 
 by that sympathy which all men feel for 
 those injured in a common danger. A re- 
 vulsion took place. A cheer, faint, at first, 
 but growing louder, rose ; others outside the 
 courtyard, ignorant of the reason, took it up. 
 Savrola continued. 
 
 " Our State, freed from tyranny, must start 
 fair and unsullied. Those who have usurped 
 undue authority, not derived from the people, 
 shall be punished, whether they be presidents 
 or citizens. These military officers must 
 come before the judges of the Republic and 
 answer for their actions. A free trial is the 
 right of all Lauranians. Comrades, much 
 has been done, but we have not finished yet. 
 We have exalted Liberty ; it remains to pre- 
 serve her. These officers shall be lodged in 
 prison ; for you there is other work. The 
 ships are coming back; it is not yet time to 
 put away the rifles. Who is there will see 
 the matter through, — to the end ? " 
 
 A man, with a bloodstained bandage round 
 
THE END OF THE QUARREL. 315 
 
 his head, stepped forward. " We are com- 
 rades," he cried ; '' shake hands." 
 
 Savrola gripped him. He was one of the 
 subordinate officers in the rebel army, a sim- 
 ple honest man whom Savrola had known 
 slightly for several months. " I entrust a 
 high duty to you. Conduct these officers 
 and soldiers to the State Prison ; I will send 
 full instructions by a mounted messenger. 
 Where can you find an escort .? " There 
 was no lack of volunteers. " To the Prison 
 then, and remember that the faith of the Re- 
 public depends on their safety. Forward, 
 Gentlemen," he added, turning to the sur- 
 viving defenders of the palace ; " your lives 
 are safe, upon my honour." 
 
 " The honour of a conspirator," sneered 
 Sorrento. 
 
 " As you like, Sir, but obey." 
 
 The party. Tiro alone remaining with Sav- 
 rola, moved off, surrounded and followed by 
 many of the crowd. While they did so a 
 dull heavy boom came up from the sea- 
 front ; another and another followed in quick 
 succession. The fleet had returned at last. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 Admiral de Mello had been true to his 
 word, and had obeyed the order which had 
 reached him through the proper channel. 
 He was within a hundred miles of Port Said 
 when the despatch-boat, with the Agent of 
 the Republic, had been met. He at once 
 changed his course, and steamed towards the 
 city he had so lately left. His fleet con- 
 sisted of two battleships, which, though slow 
 and out of date, were yet formidable ma- 
 chines, two cruisers, and a gunboat. The 
 inopportune bursting of a steam-pipe on 
 board the flagship, the Fortuna, caused a 
 delay of several hours, and it was not till two 
 o'clock in the afternoon of the second day 
 that he rounded the point and saw the har- 
 bour and city of Laurania rise fair and white 
 on the starboard bow. His officers scanned 
 
 316 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 317 
 
 the capital, which was their home and of 
 whose glories they were proud, with anxious 
 eyes ; nor were their fears unfounded. The 
 smoke of half a dozen conflagrations rose 
 from among the streets and gardens; the 
 foreign shipping had moved out of the basin 
 and lay off in the roads, for the most part 
 under steam; a strange red flag flew from 
 the fort at the end of the mole. 
 
 The Admiral, signalling for half-speed, 
 picked his way towards the mouth of the 
 channel cautiously. It was so contrived 
 that a vessel in passing must be exposed to 
 a cross-fire from the heavy guns in the bat- 
 teries. The actual passage was nearly a 
 mile wide, but the navigable channel itself 
 was dangerously narrow and extremely diffi- 
 cult. De Mello, who knew every foot of it, 
 led the way in the Fortuna ; the two cruis- 
 ers, Sorato and Petrarch, followed; the 
 gunboat Rienzi was next, and the other bat- 
 tleship, Saldanho, brought up the rear. 
 The signal was made to clear for action; 
 the men were beat to quarters ; the officers 
 went to their posts, and the fleet, assisted by 
 
3l8 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 a favourable tide, steamed slowly towards the 
 entrance. 
 
 The rebel gunners wasted no time in for- 
 malities. As the Fortuna came into the 
 line of fire, two great bulges of smoke 
 sprang from the embrasures ; the nine-inch 
 guns of the seaward battery were dis- 
 charged. Both shells flew high and roared 
 through the masts of the warship, who in- 
 creased her speed to seven knots and stood 
 on her course followed by her consorts. As 
 each gun of the forts came to bear, it was 
 fired, but the aim was bad, and the projec- 
 tiles ricochetted merrily over the water, rais- 
 ing great fountains of spray, and it was not 
 until the leading ship had arrived at the 
 entrance of the channel, that she was struck. 
 
 A heavy shell, charged with a high explo- 
 sive, crashed into the port-battery of the 
 Fortuna, killing and wounding nearly sixty 
 men, as well as dismounting two out of the 
 four guns. This roused the huge machine ; 
 the forward turret revolved and, turning 
 swiftly towards the fort, brought its great 
 twin guns to bear. Their discharge was 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 319 
 
 almost simultaneous, and the whole ship 
 staggered with the violence of the recoil. 
 Both shells struck the fort and exploded on 
 impact, smashing the masonry to splinters 
 and throwing heaps of earth into the air; 
 but the harm done was slight. Safe in their 
 bomb-proofs, the rebel gunners were ex- 
 posed only to the danger of missiles enter- 
 ing the embrasures; while such guns as 
 fired from barbette mountings were visible 
 only at the moment of discharge. 
 
 Nevertheless the great ship began literally 
 to spout flame in all directions, and her 
 numerous quick-firing guns searched for the 
 embrasures, sprinkling their small shells 
 with prodigal rapidity. Several of these 
 penetrated, and the rebels began to lose 
 men. As the ships advanced, the cross-fire 
 grew hotter, and each in succession replied 
 furiously. The cannonade became tremen- 
 dous, the loud explosions of the heavy guns 
 being almost drowned by the incessant rat- 
 tle of the quick firers ; the waters of the har- 
 bour were spotted all over with great spouts 
 of foam, while the clear air showed the white 
 
320 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 smoke-puffs of the bursting shells. The 
 main battery of the Fortuna was completely 
 silenced. A second shell jtiad exploded with 
 a horrid slaughter, and the surviving sailors 
 had fled from the scene to the armoured 
 parts of the vessel ; nor could their officers 
 induce them to return to that fearful sham- 
 bles, where the fragments of their comrades 
 lay crushed between masses of senseless 
 iron. The sides of the ships were scored 
 and torn all over, and the copious streams 
 of water from the scuppers attested the 
 energy of the pumps. The funnel of the 
 Fortuna had been shot off almost level with 
 the deck, and the clouds of black smoke 
 floating across her quarters drove the gun- 
 ners from the stern-turret and from the 
 after-guns. Broken, dismantled, crowded 
 with dead and dying, her vitals were still 
 uninjured, and her captain, in the conning 
 tower, feeling that she still answered the 
 helm, rejoiced in his good fortune and held 
 on his course. 
 
 The cruiser Petrarch had her steam steer- 
 ing'gear twisted and jammed by a shell, and 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 32 1 
 
 becoming unmanageable grounded on a sand- 
 bank. The forts, redoubling their fire, be- 
 gan to smash her to pieces. She displayed 
 a white flag and stopped firing : but of this 
 no notice was taken, and as the other ships 
 dared not risk going ashore in helping her, 
 she became a wreck and blew up at three 
 o'clock with a prodigious report. 
 
 The Saldanho, who suffered least and was 
 very heavily armoured, contrived to shelter 
 the gunboat a good deal, and the whole 
 fleet passed the batteries after forty minutes' 
 fighting and with a loss of two hundred 
 and twenty men killed and wounded, ex- 
 clusive of the entire crew of the Petrarch, 
 who were all destroyed. The rebel loss was 
 about seventy, and the damage done to the 
 forts was slight. But it was now the turn 
 of the sailors. The city of Laurania was 
 at their mercy. 
 
 The Admiral brought his ships to anchor 
 five hundred yards from the shore. He 
 hoisted a flag of truce, and as all his boats 
 had been smashed in running the gauntlet, 
 he signalled to the Custom-House that he 
 
322 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 was anxious for a parley, and desired that 
 an officer should be sent. 
 
 After about an hour's delay, a launch 
 put out from the jetty and ran alongside 
 the Fortuna. Two rebel officers in the uni- 
 form of the Republican Militia, and with 
 red sashes round their waists, came on 
 board. De Mello received them on his 
 battered quarter-deck, with extreme polite- 
 ness. Rough sailor as he was, he had 
 mixed with men of many lands, and his 
 manners were invariably improved by the 
 proximity of danger or the consciousness 
 of power. " May I ask," he said, " to what 
 we are indebted for this welcome to our 
 native city .? " 
 
 The senior of the two officers replied that 
 the forts had not fired till they were fired 
 upon. The Admiral did not argue the 
 point, but asked what had happened in the 
 city. On hearing of the Revolution and of 
 the death of the President, he was deeply 
 moved. Like Sorrento, he had known Mo- 
 lara for many years, and he was an honest, 
 open-hearted man. The officers continued 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 323 
 
 that the Provisional Government would ac- 
 cept his surrender and that of his ships, 
 and would admit him and his officers to 
 honourable terms as prisoners of war. He 
 produced the authorisation of the Commit- 
 tee of Public Safety, signed by Savrola. 
 
 De Mello somewhat scornfully requested 
 him to be serious. 
 
 The officer pointed out that the fleet in 
 its battered condition could not again run 
 the gauntlet of the batteries and would be 
 starved out. 
 
 To this De Mello replied that the forts 
 at the head of the harbour were in like 
 condition, as his guns now commanded both 
 the approaches by the military mole and the 
 promontory. He also stated that he had six 
 weeks' provisions on board and added that 
 he thought he had sufficient ammunition. 
 
 His advantage was not denied. " Un- 
 doubtedly, Sir," said the officer, "it is in 
 your power to render great services to the 
 Provisional Government and to the cause 
 of Liberty and Justice." 
 
 "At present," replied the Admiral dryly. 
 
324 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 "it is the cause of Justice that appears to 
 need my support." 
 
 To that the officers could find no more 
 to say than that they had fought for a free 
 Parliament and meant to have their way. 
 
 The Admiral took a turn or two before 
 replying. " My terms are these," he said at 
 last. " The leader of the conspiracy — this 
 man, Savrola — must be surrendered at once 
 and stand his trial for murder and rebellion. 
 Until this has been done, I will not treat. 
 Unless this is done by six o'clock to-morrow 
 morning, I shall bombard the town and shall 
 continue to do so until my terms are com- 
 plied with." 
 
 Both officers protested that this would be 
 a barbarity, and hinted that he would be 
 made to answer for his shells. The Admiral 
 declined to discuss the matter or to consider 
 other terms. As it was impossible to move 
 him, the officers returned to the shore in 
 their launch. It was now four o'clock. 
 
 As soon as this ultimatum was reported 
 to the Committee of Public Safety at the 
 Mayoralty, something very like consternation 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 325 
 
 ensued. The idea of a bombardment was 
 repugnant to the fat burgesses who had 
 joined the party of revolt so soon as it had 
 become obvious that it was the winning side. 
 It was also distasteful to the Socialists who, 
 however much they might approve of the 
 application of dynamite to others, did not 
 themselves relish the idea of a personal ac- 
 quaintance with high explosives. 
 
 The officers related their interview and 
 the Admiral's demands. 
 
 " And if we refuse to comply ? " inquired 
 Savrola. 
 
 " Then he will open fire at six o'clock to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 " Well, Gentlemen, we shall have to grin 
 and bear it. They will not dare to shoot 
 away all their ammunition, and so soon as 
 they see that we are determined, they will give 
 in. Women and children will be safe in the 
 cellars, and it may be possible to bring some 
 of the guns of the forts to bear on the har- 
 bour." There was no enthusiasm. " It 
 will be an expensive game of bluff," he 
 added. 
 
326 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 " There is a cheaper way," said a Socialist 
 delegate from the end of the table, signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 " What do you propose ? " asked Savrola 
 looking hard at him; the man had been a 
 close ally of Kreutze. 
 
 " I say that it would be cheaper if the 
 leader of the revolt were to sacrifice himself 
 for the sake of Society," 
 
 " That is your opinion ; I will take the 
 sense of the Committee on it." There were 
 cries of "No! No!" and "Shame!" from 
 many present. Some were silent ; but it was 
 evident that Savrola had the majority. " Very 
 well," he said acidly ; " the Committee of 
 Public Safety do not propose to adopt the 
 honourable member's suggestion. He is over- 
 ruled," — here he looked hard at the man, 
 who blenched, — "as he will frequently be 
 among people of civilised habits." 
 
 Another man got up from the end of the 
 long table. " Look here," he said roughly; 
 " if our city is at their mercy, we have hos- 
 tages. We have thirty of these popinjays 
 who fought us this morning ; let us send and 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 327 
 
 tell the Admiral that we shall shoot one for 
 every shell he fires." 
 
 There was a murmur of assent. Many 
 approved of the proposal, because they 
 thought that it need never be carried into 
 execution, and all wanted to prevent the 
 shells. Savrola's plan, however wise, was 
 painful. It was evident that the new sug- 
 gestion was a popular one. 
 
 " It is out of the question," said Savrola. 
 
 " Why.? " asked several voices. 
 
 " Because, Sirs, these officers surrendered 
 to terms, and because the Republic does not 
 butcher innocent men." 
 
 " Let us divide upon it," said the man. 
 
 " I protest against a division. This is not 
 a matter of debate or of opinion ; it is a mat- 
 ter of right and wrong." 
 
 " Nevertheless I am for voting." 
 
 "And I," "And I," "And I," shouted 
 many voices. 
 
 The voting went forward. Renos sup- 
 ported Savrola on legal grounds ; the 'case 
 of the officers was now sub judice, so he said. 
 Godoy abstained. The majority in favour 
 
328, THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 of the proposal was twenty-one to seven- 
 teen. 
 
 The count of hands was received with 
 cheering. Savrola shrugged his shoulders. 
 " It is impossible that this can go on. Are 
 we become barbarians in a morning .'' " 
 
 " There is an alternative," said Kreutze's 
 friend. 
 
 " There is, Sir ; an alternative that I should 
 gladly embrace before this new plan was 
 carried out. But," in a low menacing tone, 
 " the people will be invited to pronounce an 
 opinion first, and I may have an opportunity 
 of showing them their real enemies and mine." 
 
 The man made no reply to the obvious 
 threat; like all the others he stood in con- 
 siderable awe of Savrola's power with the 
 mob and of his strong dominating character. 
 The silence was broken by Godoy, who said 
 that the matter had been settled by the 
 Committee. A note was therefore drafted 
 and despatched to the Admiral, informing 
 him 'that the military prisoners would be 
 shot should he bombard the city. After 
 further discussion the Committee broke up. 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET, 329 
 
 Savrola remained behind, watching the 
 members move slowly away talking as they 
 went. Then he rose and entered the small 
 room he had used as his office. - His spirits 
 were low. Slight as it was, his wound hurt 
 him ; but worse than that, he was conscious 
 that there were hostile influences at work ; he 
 was losing his hold over the Party. While 
 victory was still in the balance he had been 
 indispensable; now they were prepared to 
 go on alone. He thought of all he had gone 
 through that day; the terrible scene of the 
 night, the excitement and anxiety while the 
 fighting was going on, the strange experi- 
 ence in the square, and, last of all, this grave 
 matter. His mind, however, was made up. 
 He knew enough of De Mello to guess what 
 his answer would be. " They are soldiers," 
 he would say; "they must give their lives 
 if necessary. No prisoner should allow his 
 friends to be compromised on his account. 
 They should not have surrendered." When 
 the bombardment began he could imagine 
 fear turning to cruelty, and the crowd carry- 
 ing out the threat that their leaders had 
 
330 THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 
 
 made. Whatever happened, the affair could 
 not be allowed to continue. 
 
 He rang the bell. " Ask the Secretary to 
 come here," he said to the attendant. The 
 man departed, and in a few moments re- 
 turned with Miguel. " What officer has 
 charge of the prison?" 
 
 " I don't think the officials have been 
 altered; they have taken no part in the 
 Revolution." 
 
 " Well, write an order to the Governor to 
 send the prisoners of war, the military offi- 
 cers taken this afternoon, in closed carriages 
 to the railway station. They must be there 
 at ten o'clock to-night." 
 
 " Are you going to release them ? " asked 
 Miguel opening his eyes. 
 
 " I am going to send them to a place of 
 security," answered Savrola ambiguously. 
 
 Miguel began to write the order without 
 further comment. Savrola took the tele- 
 phone off the table and rang up the railway- 
 station. " Tell the traffic-manager to come 
 and speak to me. Are you there? — The 
 President of the Executive Committee of the 
 
THE RETURN OF THE FLEET. 33 1 
 
 Council of Public Safety — do you hear? 
 Have a special train, — accommodation for 
 thirty — ready to start at ten p.m. Clear 
 the line to the frontier, — yes, — right to the 
 frontier." 
 
 Miguel looked up from his writing quickly, 
 but said nothing. Although he had deserted 
 the President when he saw that he was ruined 
 and his cause lost, he hated Savrola with a 
 genuine hatred. An idea came into his 
 head. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 life's compensations. 
 
 Much had happened, though but a few 
 hours had passed since Savrola left his house 
 to hurry to the Mayoralty. The deep and 
 intricate conspiracy, which had been grow- 
 ing silently and in secret for so many months, 
 had burst on the world's stage and electrified 
 the nations. All Europe had learned with 
 amazement of the sudden and terrible con- 
 vulsion that in a few hours had overthrown 
 the Government which had existed for five 
 years in Laurania. In the fighting that had 
 raged throughout the ninth of September 
 upwards of fourteen hundred persons had 
 been killed and wounded. The damage 
 done to property had been enormous. The 
 Senate-House was in flames ; the palace had 
 been destroyed; both, together with many 
 shops and private houses, had been looted 
 by the mob and the mutineers. Fires were 
 
 332 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 333 
 
 still smouldering in several parts of the city ; 
 in many homes there were empty places and 
 weeping women ; in the streets the ambu- 
 lances and municipal carts were collecting 
 the corpses. It had been a momentous day 
 in the annals of the State. 
 
 And all through the terrible hours Lucile 
 had waited, listening to the sound of the 
 musketry, which, sometimes distant and fit- 
 ful, sometimes near and sustained, suggested 
 the voice of a wrathful giant, now sunk in 
 sulky grumblings, now raised in loud invec- 
 tive. She had listened in sorrow and sus- 
 pense, till it was lost in the appalling din of 
 the cannonade. At intervals, between the 
 bathos of the material consolations of the 
 old nurse, — soup, custards, and the like — 
 she had prayed. Until four o'clock, when 
 she had received a message from Savrola ac- 
 quainting her with the tragedy at the palace, 
 she had not dared to add a name to her 
 appeals; but thenceforward she implored a 
 merciful Providence to save the life of the 
 man she loved. Molara she did not mourn : 
 terrible and cruel as was his death, she could 
 
334 LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 
 
 not feel she had suffered loss; but the idea 
 that he had been killed on her account filled 
 her heart with a dreadful fear of guilt. If 
 that were so, she said to herself, one barrier 
 was removed only to be replaced by another. 
 But the psychologist might cynically aver 
 that force and death were the only obstacles 
 that would restrain her affection for Savrola, 
 for above all she prayed for his return, that 
 she might not be left alone in the world. 
 
 Her love seemed all that was left to her 
 now, but with it life was more real and 
 strongly coloured than in the cold days at 
 the palace amid splendour, power, and admi- 
 ration. She had found what she had lacked, 
 and so had he. With her it was as if the 
 rising sunbeam had struck the rainbow from 
 the crystal prism, or flushed the snow peak 
 with rose, orange, and violet. With Savrola, 
 in the fierce glow of love the steady blue- 
 white fires of ambition had become invisi- 
 ble. The human soul is subjected to many 
 refining agents in the world's crucible. He 
 was sensible of a change of mood and 
 thought; no longer would he wave his hat 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 335 
 
 at Fate; to his courage he had now added 
 caution. From the moment when he had 
 seen that poor, hideous figure lying on the 
 steps of the palace, he had felt the influence 
 of other forces in his life. Other interests, 
 other hopes, other aspirations had entered 
 his mind. He searched for different ideals 
 and a new standard of happiness. 
 
 Very worn and very weary he made his 
 way to his rooms. The strain of the pre- 
 ceding twenty-four hours had been tremen- 
 dous, and the anxieties which he felt for the 
 future were keen. The step he had taken 
 in overruling the Council and sending the 
 prisoners into foreign territory was one the 
 results of which he could not quite estimate. 
 It was, he was convinced, the only course ; 
 and for the consequences he did not greatly 
 care, so far as he himself was concerned. 
 He thought of Moret, — poor, brave, im- 
 petuous Moret, who would have set the 
 world right in a day. The loss of such a 
 friend had been a severe one to him, pri- 
 vately and politically. Death had removed 
 the only disinterested man, the only one on 
 
336 life's compensations. 
 
 whom he could lean in the hour of need. 
 A sense of weariness, of disgust with strug- 
 gling, of desire for peace filled his soul. 
 The object for which he had toiled so long 
 was now nearly attained and it seemed of 
 little worth, of little comparative worth, that 
 is to say, beside Lucile. 
 
 As a Revolutionist he had long made 
 such arrangements with his property as to 
 make sure of a competence in another land, 
 if he had to fly Laurania; and a strong 
 wish to leave that scene of strife and car- 
 nage and to live with the beautiful woman 
 who loved him took possession of his mind. 
 It was, however, his first duty to establish a 
 government in the place of that he had over- 
 thrown. Yet when he reflected on the cross- 
 grained delegates, the mean pandering crowd 
 of office-seekers, the weak, distrustful, timid 
 colleagues, he hardly felt that he cared to 
 try; so great was the change that a few 
 hours had worked in this determined and 
 aspiring man. 
 
 Lucile rose to meet him as he entered. 
 Fate had indeed driven them together, for 
 
life's compensations. 337 
 
 she had no other hope in life, nor was there 
 anyone to whom she could turn for help. 
 Yet she looked at him with terror. 
 
 His quick mind guessed her doubt. " I 
 ^ tried to save him," he said ; " but I was too 
 late, though I was wounded in taking a 
 short cut there." 
 
 She saw his bandaged arm, and looked at 
 him with love. " Do you despise me very 
 much ? " she asked. 
 
 " No," he replied ; " I would not marry a 
 goddess." 
 
 " Nor I," she said, " a philosopher." 
 
 Then they kissed each other, and thence- 
 forward their relationship was simple. 
 
 But in spite of the labours of the day 
 Savrola had no time for rest. There was 
 much to do, and, like all men who have to 
 work at a terrible pressure for a short period, 
 he fell back on the resources of medicine. 
 He went to a little cabinet in the corner of 
 the room and poured himself out a potent 
 drug, something that would dispense with 
 sleep and give him fresh energy and endur- 
 ance. Then he sat down and began to write 
 
338 life's compensations. 
 
 orders and instructions and to sign the pile 
 of papers he had brought with him from 
 the Mayoralty. Lucile, seeing him thus 
 employed, betook herself to her room. 
 
 It was about one o'clock in the morning 
 when there came a ringing at the bell. Sav- 
 rola, mindful of the old nurse, ran down 
 and opened the door himself. Tiro, in plain 
 clothes, entered. " I have come to warn 
 you," he said. 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " Someone has informed the Council that 
 you have released the prisoners. They have 
 summoned an urgency meeting. Do you 
 think you can hold them ? " 
 
 " The devil ! " said Savrola pensively. 
 Then after a pause he added, " I will go 
 and join them." 
 
 " There are stages laid by road to the 
 frontier," said the Subaltern. " The Presi- 
 dent made me arrange them in case he 
 should wish to send Her Excellency away. 
 If you decide to give up the game you can 
 escape by these ; they will hold them to my 
 warrant." 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 339 
 
 " No," said Savrola. " It is good of you 
 „ to think of it; but I have saved this people 
 from tyranny and must now try to save them 
 from themselves." 
 
 " You have saved the lives of my brother- 
 officers," said the boy; "you can count on 
 me." 
 
 Savrola looked at him and an idea struck 
 him. " These relays were ordered to convey 
 Her Excellency to neutral territory; they 
 had better be so used. Will you conduct 
 her?" 
 
 " Is she in this house ? " inquired the Sub- 
 altern. 
 
 " Yes," said Savrola bluntly. 
 
 Tiro laughed; he was not in the least 
 scandalised. " I am beginning to learn more 
 politics every day," he said. 
 
 " You wrong me," said Savrola ; " but will 
 you do as I ask ? " 
 
 " Certainly, when shall I start } " 
 
 " When can you ? " 
 
 " I will bring the travelling-coach round in 
 half-an-hour." 
 
 " Do," said Savrola. " I am grateful to 
 
340 LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 
 
 you. We have been through several expe- 
 riences together." 
 
 They shook hands warmly, and the Sub- 
 altern departed to get the carriage. 
 
 Savrola went up-stairs and, knocking at 
 Lucile's door, informed her of the plan. She 
 implored him to come with her. 
 
 " Indeed I wish I could," he said ; " I am 
 sick of this ; but I owe it to them to see it 
 out. Power has little more attraction for 
 me. I will come as soon as things are set- 
 tled, and we can then be married and live 
 happily ever afterwards." 
 
 But neither his cynical chaff nor argu- 
 ments prevailed. She threw her arms round 
 his neck and begged him not to desert her. 
 It was a sore trial. At last with an aching 
 heart he tore himself away, put on his hat 
 and coat, and started for the Mayoralty. 
 
 The distance was about three quarters of 
 a mile. He had accomplished about half of 
 this when he met a patrol of the rebel forces 
 under an officer. They called on him to 
 halt. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, 
 not wishing for the moment to be recog- 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 
 
 341 
 
 nised. The officer stepped forward. It was 
 the wounded man to whom Savrola had en- 
 trusted the escorting of the prisoners after 
 the surrender of the palace. 
 
 " How far are we away from the Plaza San 
 Marco ? " he asked in a loud voice. 
 
 "It is there," said Savrola pointing. 
 "Twenty-third Street is the number." 
 
 The rebel knew him at once. " March 
 on," he said to his men, and the patrol 
 moved off. "Sir," he added to Savrola, in 
 the low, quick voice of a man in moments of 
 resolve, " I have a warrant from the Council 
 for your arrest. They will deliver you to the 
 Admiral. Fly, while there is time. I will 
 take my men by a roundabout way, which 
 will give you twenty minutes. Fly; it may 
 cost me dear, but we are comrades ; you said 
 so." He touched Savrola's wounded arm. 
 Then louder to the patrol : " Turn down that 
 street to the right : we had better get out of 
 the main thoroughfare ; he may sneak off by 
 some lane or other." Then again to Savrola: 
 " There are others coming, do not delay ; " 
 and with that he hurried after his men. 
 
342 LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 
 
 Savrola paused for a moment. To go on 
 was imprisonment, perhaps death ; to return, 
 meant safety and Lucile. Had it been the 
 preceding day, he would have seen the mat- 
 ter out ; but his nerves had been strained for 
 many hours, — and nothing stood between 
 them now. He turned and hurried back to 
 his house. 
 
 The travelling-coach stood at the door. 
 The Subaltern had helped Lucile, weeping, 
 into it. Savrola called to him. " I have 
 decided to go," he said. 
 
 " Capital ! " replied Tiro. " Leave these 
 pigs to cut each other's throats ; they will 
 come to their senses presently." 
 
 So they started, and as they toiled up the 
 long ascent of the hills behind the city, it 
 became daylight. 
 
 " Miguel denounced you," said the Sub- 
 altern ; " I heard it at the Mayoralty. I told 
 you he would let you in. You must try and 
 get quits with him some day." 
 
 " I never waste revenge on such creatures," 
 replied Savrola ; " they are their own damna- 
 tion." 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 343 
 
 At the top of the hill the carriage stopped, 
 to let the panting horses get their wind. 
 Savrola opened the door and stepped out. 
 Four miles off, and it seemed far below him, 
 lay the city he had left. Great columns of 
 smoke rose from the conflagrations and hung, 
 a huge black cloud in the still clear air of 
 the dawn. Beneath the long rows of white 
 houses could be seen the ruins of the Senate, 
 the gardens, and the waters of the harbour. 
 The warships lay in the basin, their guns 
 trained upon the town. The picture was a 
 terrible one ; to this pass had the once beau- 
 tiful city been reduced. 
 
 A puff of white smoke sprang from a dis- 
 tant ironclad, and after a while the dull boom 
 of a heavy gun was heard. Savrola took out 
 his watch ; it was six o'clock ; the Admiral 
 had kept his appointment with scrupulous 
 punctuality. The forts, many of whose guns 
 had been moved during the night to the 
 landward side, began to reply to the fire of 
 the ships, and the cannonade became general. 
 The smoke of other burning houses rose 
 slowly to join the black, overhanging cloud 
 
344 LIFE S COMPENSATIONS. 
 
 against which the bursting shells showed 
 white with yellow flashes. 
 
 " And that," said Savrola after prolonged 
 contemplation, " is my life's work." 
 
 A gentle hand touched his arm. He 
 turned and saw Lucile standing by him. 
 He looked at her in all her beauty, and felt 
 that after all he had not lived in vain. 
 
 Those who care to further follow the an- 
 nals of the Republic of Laurania may read 
 how, after the tumults had subsided, the 
 hearts of the people turned again to the 
 illustrious exile who had won them freedom, 
 and whom they had deserted in the hour of 
 victory. They may, scoffing at the fickleness 
 of men, read of the return of Savrola and his 
 beautiful consort, to the ancient city he had 
 loved so well. They may learn how Lieu- 
 tenant Tiro was decorated for his valour 
 in the war with the little bronze Lauranian 
 Cross which is respected all over the world ; 
 of how he led the Lancers' polo team to 
 England according to his desire, and de- 
 feated the Amalgamated Millionaires in the 
 
LIFES COMPENSATIONS. 345 
 
 final match for the Open Cup; of how he 
 served the Republic faithfully with honour 
 and success and rose at last to the command 
 of the army. Of the old nurse, indeed, they 
 will read no more, for history does not con- 
 cern itself with such. But they may observe 
 that Godoy and Renos both filled offices in 
 the State suited to their talents, and that 
 Savrola bore no malice to Miguel, who con- 
 tinued to enjoy good-fortune as a compen- 
 sation for his mean and odious character. 
 
 But the chronicler, finding few great events, 
 other than the opening of colleges, railways, 
 and canals, to recount, will remember the 
 splendid sentence of Gibbon, that history is 
 " little more than the register of the crimes, 
 follies, and misfortunes of mankind " ; and 
 he will rejoice that, after many troubles, peace 
 and prosperity came back to the Republic of 
 Laurania. 
 
A Selected List of Fiction 
 
 Published by « « « « « « 
 
 Longmans, Green, & Co., 
 
 91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, • New York. 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 
 A Gentleman of France. The Man in Black. 
 The House of the Wolf. New edition preparing. 
 
 Under the Red Robe. From the Memoirs of a 
 
 My Lady Rotha. Minister of France. 
 
 The Story of Francis Cludde. 
 
 Shrewsbury, with 24 Illustrations, Decorative Cover, $1 50 
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 Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 The People of the Mist. Cleopatra. 
 
 She. 
 
 The Wizard. 
 Beatrice. 
 
 The World's Desire. 
 Allan Quatermain. 
 
 Heart of the World. 
 
 Joan Haste. 
 
 Dawn. 
 
 Montezuma's Daughter. 
 
 Nada the Lily. 
 
 Eric Brighteyes. 
 
 $1.25. 
 
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 Sir Patrick : The Puddock. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
By Archibald Birt. 
 
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 By E. N. Barrow. 
 
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 By J. W. De Forrest. 
 
 A Lover's Revolt. With Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 By Miss L. Dougali. 
 
 Beggars All. A Novel. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
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 By A. E. W. Mason and Andrew Lang. 
 
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 being the Adventures of Ignigene and her Twenty-six Fair 
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 By Mrs. Ward. 
 
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 A Tsar's Gratitude. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 By Mrs. Woods. 
 
 Weeping Ferry. Crown 8vo, buckram cloth, $1.50. 
 
FROM THE MEMOIRS 
 OF A MINISTER OF FRANCE. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OP "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," * UNDER THE RED ROBE," ETC., ETC* 
 
 With 36 Illustrations, of which 1 5 are full-page. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 '* A collection of twelve tales, each one of which is to be classed as a masterpiece, 
 so subtle and strong is it in the lavelation of character, so impressive its portrayal 
 of the times and the scenes with which it deals. . . . Mr. Weyman has produced 
 a really .brilliant book, one that will appeal alike to the lovers of literature, of adven- 
 ture, and to those who demand in fiction the higher intellectual quality. . . . The 
 chances are that those who take it up will not put it down again with a page or evea 
 a line unread." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 *' To read these merry tales of adventure and to lose all sense, for the moment, 
 of life's complexities, is a refreshment ; it is to drink again at the pure spring of 
 romance. . . . Weyman . . . has caught more of the inner spirit of sixteenth 
 century life than any romancer since Scott."— Oregonian, Portland, Ore. 
 
 •'These briefer tales have all the charm and attractiveness that attach to their 
 author's longer romances, and many of the leading characters of the latter figure in 
 them. He catches the attention of the reader at the very outset and holds it to the end ; 
 while his skill as a story-teller is so great that his characters become real beings to us, 
 and the scenes which he describes seem actual and present occurrences as he narrates 
 them." — Sacred Heart Review, Boston. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," ETC, 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by Charles Kerr. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 ■■ A delightful volume ... one of the hrightest, briskest tales I have met with for a 
 long time. Dealing with the Eve of St. Bartholomew it portrays that night of horror from a 
 Doint entirely new, and, we may add, reUcves the gloom by many a flash and gleam of sun- 
 shine Best of all is the conception of the Viddme. His character alone would make the 
 book live."— Critic, N. Y. 
 
 " Recounted as by an eye witness in a forceful way with a rapid and graphic style that 
 commands interest and admiration, i c „. 
 
 Of the half dozen stories of St. Bartholomew's Eve which we have read this ranks first 
 in vividness, delicacy of perception, reserve power, and high P^gPj^j^j^ Union, N. Y. 
 
 " A romance which, although shert, deserves a place in literature along side of Charles 
 Reade's ' Cloister and the Helrth.' ... We have given Mr. Weyman's book not only 
 a thorough readine with great interest, but also a more than usual amount of space hecause 
 trconsSer it orS of the best examples in recent fiction of how thnllmg and even bloody 
 adventures and scenes may be described in a style that is graphic and true to detail, and yet 
 deUcate, quaint, and free ffom aU coarseness and ^-^^-^^^^^ Advektisbr, N. Y. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 FUTH AVE., NEW TOEK. 
 
A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. 
 
 Betngr the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonnov 
 Sleur de Marsac. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AVTHOR OF "THfl HOUSB OF THE WOLF»" ETC 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vlgrnette by H. J. Ford. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornam ental, $1.25. 
 
 "Oiwof the best novels since * Lorna Doone.' It will be read and then re*read foirfh« 
 ,lliere pleasure its reading gives. The subtle charm of it is not in merely transporting the 
 wine teen th-century reader to the sixteenth, that he may see life as it was then, but in trans- 
 forming htm into a sixteenth-century man. thinking its thoughts, and living its life in perfect 
 tovtch and sympathy ... it carries the reader out of his present life, giving him a new 
 and totally different existence that rests and refreshes him." — N. Y. World. 
 
 •* No novelist outside of France has displayed a more definite comprehension of the very 
 essifnce of mediaeval French life, and no one, certainly, has been able to set forth a depiction 
 of i\"in colors so vivid and so entirely in consonance with the truth. . • . The characters 
 in the tale are admirably drawn, and the narrative is nothing less than fascinating in its fine 
 flavor of adventure."— Beacon, Boston. 
 
 "We hardly know whether to call this latest work of Stanley J. Weyman a historical 
 lomance or a story of adventure. It has all the interesting, fascinating and thrilling charao 
 teristic^ of both. The scene is in France, and the time is that fateful eventful one which 
 culmintited in Henry of Navarre becoming king.^ Naturally it is a story of plots and intrigue, 
 of danger and of the grand passion^ abounding in intense dramatic scenes aikl most interest- 
 Ing sitUiitions. It is a romance which will rank among the masterpieces of historic fiction." 
 
 — Advertisbrj Boston. 
 
 " A romance after the style of Dumas the elder, and well wordiy of being read by thoM 
 n ho can enjoy stirring adventures told in true romantic fashion. . . . The great person- 
 Affiss of the time— Henry III. of_ Valois, Henry IV., Rosny, Rambouillet, Turenne — are 
 brought in skillfully, and the tragic and varied history of the time forms a splendid frame in 
 which t& set the picture of Marsac's love and courage ■ • • the troublous days are well 
 describee and the interest is genuine and lasting, for up to the very end the author numagei 
 effects which impel the reader to go on with renewed curiosity.''— The Nations 
 
 "A genuine and admirable piece of work, . . , The reader will not turn many pagei 
 before be finds himself in the grasp of a writer who holds his attention to the very last mo* 
 ment of the story. The spirit of adventure pervades the whole from beginning to end. • . . 
 
 ft may be said that the narration is a delightful love story. The interest of the reader 
 is constantly excited by the development of unexpected turns in the relation of the princip^ 
 lovei-s. The romance lies against a background of history truly painted. . . . The 
 desciiiptions of the court life of the period and of the factional strifes, divisions, hatreds of thf 
 age, are fine. • . , This story of those times is worthy of a very high place among histori- 
 cal novels of recent years." — Public Opinion, 
 
 •■ Hold, strong, dashing, it is one of the best we have read for many years. We sat down 
 for a cursory perusal, and ended by reading it delightedly through. , , • Mr. Weyman 
 has much of the vigor and rush of incident of Dr. Conan Doyle, and this book ranks worthily 
 beside • The White Company.* . . , We very cordially recommend this book to ihe jaded 
 novel reader who cares for manly actions more than for morbid introspection." 
 
 — ^The Churchman. 
 ^ "The book is not only good literature, it is a 'rattling good story,' instinct with the 
 spirit of true adventure and stirring emotion. Of love and peril, intrigue and fighting, there 
 is plenty, and many scenes could not have been bettered. In all his adventures, and theT 
 are many, Marsac acts as befits his epoch and his own modest yet gallant personality. Well- 
 known historical figures emerge in telling fashion under Mr, Weyman*s discriminating and 
 fascinating touch.^^AxHEN^uM. 
 
 ** I eaanot fancy any reader, old or young, not sharing with doughty Crillon his admiration 
 for M. de Idlarsac, who, though no swashbuckler, has a sword that leaps from its scabl»rd at the 
 breath of insult. . . . There are several historical personages in the novel; there is, oi 
 course, a heroiBe, of great beauty and enterprise; but that true 'Gentleman of Francei' 
 M. dr Manac> with his perseverance and valor, dominates them all." 
 
 <— Mr. James Payn in the Illustrated London News, 
 
 LOMMANS, GKEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW YORK. 
 
UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " THK HOUSE OF THE WOLF," ETC 
 
 With 1 2 Full-pagre Illustrations by R. Caton Woodvllle. 
 12mo, Linen Clotli, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 Mr. Weyman is a brave writer, who imagines fine things and describes them 
 splendidly. There is something to interest a healthy mind on every page of his new 
 story. Its interest never flags, for his resource is rich, and it is, moreover, the kind of 
 a story that one cannot plainly see the end of from Chapter I. . . . the story reveals 
 a knowledge of French character and French landscape that was surely never ac- 
 quired at second hand. The beginning is wonderfully interesting."— New Yore Times. 
 
 " As perfect a novel of the new school of fiction as ' Ivanhoe ' or ' Henry Esmond ' 
 was of theirs. Each later story has shown a marked advance in strength and treat- 
 ment, and in the last Mr. Weyman . . . demonstrates that he has no superior 
 among living novelists. . . . There are but two characters in the story— his art 
 makes all other but unnoticed shadows cast by them— and the attention is so keenly 
 fixed upon one or both, from the first word to the last, that we live in their thought* 
 and see the drama unfolded through their eyes." — N. Y. World. 
 
 " It was bold to take Richelieu and his time as a subject and thus to challenge com- 
 parison with Dumas's immortal musketeers • but the result justifies the boldness. . . . 
 The plot is admirably clear and strong, the diction singularly concise and telling, and 
 the stirring events are so managed as not to degenerate into sensationalism. Few 
 better novels of adventure than this have ever been written."— Outlook, New York. 
 
 " A wonderfully brilliant and thrilling romance. ... Mr. Weyman has a positive 
 talent for concise dramatic narration. Every phrase tells, and the characters stana 
 out with life-like distinctness. Some of the most fascinating epochs in French history 
 have been splendidly illuminated by his novels, which are to be reckoned among the 
 notable successes or later nineteenth-century fiction. This story of ' Under the Red 
 Robe ' is in its way one of the very best things he has done. It is illustrated with 
 rigor and appropriateness from twelve full-page designs by R. Caton Woodville." 
 
 — Boston Beacon. 
 
 " It is a skillfully drawn picture of the times, drawn in simple and transparent 
 Snglish, and quivering with tense human feeling from the first word to the last. It is 
 not a book that can be laid down at the middle of it. The reader once caught in its 
 whirl can no more escape from it than a ship from the maelstrom." 
 
 — Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 "The 'red robe' refers to Cardinal Richelieu, in whose day the stori; is laid. 
 The descriptions of his court, his judicial machinations and ministrations, his partial 
 defeat, stand out from the book as vivid as flame against a background of snow. For 
 the rest, the book is clever and interesting, and overflowing with heroic incident. 
 Stanley Weyman is an author who has apparently come to stay." — Chicago Post. 
 
 " In this story Mr. Weyman returns to the scene of his ' Gentleman of France,' 
 although his new heroes are of different mould. The book is full of adventure and 
 characterized by a deeper study of character than its predecessor." 
 
 —Washington Post. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has quite topped his first success. . . . The author artfully 
 pursues the line on which his happy initial venture was laid. We have in Berault, the 
 hero, a more impressive Marsac ; an accomplished duelist, telling the tale of his own 
 adventures, he first repels and finally attracts us. He is at once the tool of Richelieu, 
 and a man of honor. Here is a noteworthy romance, full of thrilling incident set dowa 
 by a master-hand."— Philadelphia Press. 
 
 LOMMANS, GEEEBf . & CO., 91-93 IIPTH AVE., NEW YOEZ. 
 
THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OP "a gentleman OF FRANCE,*' " UNDER THE RED ROBE,'' " THB HOUSE O^ 
 THE WOLF," **MY LADY ROTHA," ETC. 
 
 With Four Illustrations. Crown Svo, $1.25. 
 
 " A delightfully told and exciting tale of the troublesome times of Bloody Mary in Eng- 
 land, and the hero — every inch a hero — was an important actor in them." 
 
 — New Orleans Picayune. 
 
 **It is a highly exciting tale from beginning to end, and very well told." 
 
 — New York Herald. 
 
 " One of the best historical novels that we have read for some time. . . . It is a 
 story of the time of Queen Mary, and is possessed of great dramatic power. ... In char- 
 acter-drawing the story is unexcelled, and the reader wiU follow the remarkable adventures 
 of the three fugitives with the most intense interest, which end with the happy change on 
 the accession of Elizabeth to the throne." — Home Journal, Boston. 
 
 "The book presents a good historical pen-picture of the most stirring period of English 
 civilization, and graphically describes scenes and incidents which undoubtedly happened. 
 The style is plain, and the book well worthy of careful perusal. 
 
 " Humor and pathos are in the pages, and many highly dramatic scenes are described 
 with the ability of a master hand." — Item, Philadelphia. 
 
 *' Is worthy of careful reading; it is a unique, powerful, and very interesting story, the 
 scene of which is laid alternately m England, the Netherlands, and the Rhenish Palatinate ; 
 ths- times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner plays a leading part in this romance, 
 which presents in good shape the manners and customs of the period." 
 
 —Buffalo Commercial 
 
 " A romance of the olden days, full of fire and life, with touches here and there of love 
 and politics. . . . We have in this book a genuine romance of Old England, in which 
 soldiers, chancellors, dukes, priests, and high-born dames figure. The time is the period of 
 the war with Spain. Knightly deeds abound. The story will more than interest the reader; 
 it will charm him, and he will scan the notices of forthcoming books for another novel by 
 Weyman." — Public Opinion, New York. 
 
 " Its humor, its faithful observance of the old English style of writing, and its careful 
 adherence to historic events and localities, will recommend it to all who are fond of historic 
 novels. The scenes are laid in England and in the Netherlands in the last four years of 
 Queen Mary's life."— Literary World, Boston. 
 
 ** Is distinguished by an uncommon display of the inventive faculty, a Dumas-like ingenu- 
 ity in contriving dangerous situations, and an enviable facility for extricating the persecuted 
 hero from the very jaws of destruction. The scene is laid alternately in Enrfand, the Neth- 
 erlands, and the Rhenish Palatinate ; the times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner 
 plays a leading part in this romance, which presents in good shape the manners and customs 
 of the period. It is useless dividing the story into arbitrary chapters, for they will not serve 
 to prevent the reader from 'devouring' the * Story ot Francis Cludde,* from the stormy 
 beginning to its peaceful end in the manor-house at Coton End." 
 
 — Public Ledger, Philadelphia. 
 
 *• This is certainly a commendable story, being full of interest and told with great 
 spirit. . . . It is a capital book for the young, and even the less hardened nerves of the 
 middle-aged will find here no superfluity of gore or brutality to mar their pleasure in a 
 bright and clean tale of prowess and adventure. ' — Nation, New York. 
 
 " A well-told tale, with few, if any, anachronisms, and a credit to the clever talent of 
 Stanley J. Weyman." — Springfield Republican. 
 
 " It is undeniably the best volume which Mr. Weyman has given us, both in literary 
 style and unceasing interest." — Yale Literary Magazine. 
 
 LOMMAlSrS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FUTH AYE., NEW TOEK. 
 
MY LADY ROTHA. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR. 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "a gentleman OF FRANCE," ** UNDER THE BED ROBE," 
 **THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF." 
 
 With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 
 " Few writers of ficrion who have appeared in England in the last decade have gtvea 
 dieir readers more satisfaction than Mr. Stanley J. Weyman, and no single writer of tfii» 
 number can be said to have approached him, much less to have equaled him in die romantic 
 world of the historical novel . , . he has the art of story-telhDg in the highest degree, 
 the art which instinctively divines the secret, the soul of the story which he tells, and the 
 rarer art, if it be not the artlessness, which makes it as real and as inevitable as life itself. 
 His characters are alive, human, unforgetable, resembling in this respect those of Thackeray 
 in historical lines and in a measure those of Dumas, with whom, and not inapdy, Mr. Wey 
 man has been compared. His literature is good, so good that we accept it as a matter of 
 course, as we do that of Thackeray and Scott. . . . Mr. Weyman's historical novels 
 will live." — New York Mail and Express. 
 
 " . . . differs signally from Mr. Weyman's earlier pubhshed works. It is treated 
 with the minuteness and lovingness of a first story which has grown up in the mind of the 
 author for years. . . . Marie Wort is one of the bravest souls that ever moved quiedy 
 along the pages of a noveL She is so unlike the other feminine characters nhom Weyman 
 has drawn that the difference is striking and adds significance to this one book. . . . 
 ' My Lady Rotha ' is full of fascinating interest, all the more remarkable in a work adhering 
 so stricdy to historical truth." — Evening Post, Chicago. 
 
 "This last book of his is brimful of action, rushing forward with a roar, leaving the 
 reader breathless at the close ; for if once begun there is no stopping place. The concep- 
 tion is unique and striking, and the culmination unexpected. The author i<: so saturated 
 with the spuit of the times of which he writes, that he merges his personality ,n that of the 
 supposititious narrator, and the virtues and failings of his men and women are set forth in a 
 fashion which is captivating from its very simpUcity. It is one of his best novels." 
 
 — Public Opinion. 
 
 *' Readers of Mr. Weyman's novels will have no hesitation in pronouncing his just pub- 
 lished 'My Lady Rotha' in everyway his greatest and most artistic production. We 
 know of nothing more fit, both in conception and execution, to be classed with the immortal 
 Waverleys than this his latest work. ... A story true to life and true to the timeg 
 which Mr. Weyman has made such a careful study," —The Advertiser, Boston. 
 
 " No one of Mr. Weyman's books is better than ' My Lady Rotha ' unless it be ' Under 
 the Red Robe,* and those who have learned to like his stories of the old days when might 
 made right will cppreciate it thoroughly. It is a good book to read and read again." 
 
 — New York World, 
 
 *' , , . As good a tale of adventure as any one need ask ; the picture of those war- 
 like times Is an excellent one, full of Ufe and color, the blare of trumpets and the flash » 
 jteel — and toward the dose the description of the besieged city of Nuremberg and of the 
 battle under Wallenstein's entrenchments is masterly." — Boston Traveller. 
 
 **The loveliest and most admirable character in the story is that of a young Catholb girl, 
 while in painting the cruelties and savage barbarities of war at that period the bru^h is held 
 by an impartial hand. Books of adventure and romance are apt to be cheap and Sensational,' 
 Mr. Weyman's stories are worth tons of such stuff. They are thrilling, exciti'ig, absorbing, 
 interesting, and yet clear, strong, and healthy in tone, written by a gentlem?^ and a man of 
 sense and taste." — Sacred Heart Review, Boston. 
 
 "Mr. Weyman has outdone himself in this remarkable book. . . . The whole story 
 is told with consiunmate skill. The plot is artistically devised and enrooted before the read- 
 er's eyes. The language is simple and apt, and the descriptions are graphic and terse. The 
 charm of the story takes hold of the reader on the very first page, aad adds him spell-bound 
 to the very end.** — New Orleans Picayune, 
 
 tONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 riPTH AVENUE, NEW TOEK. 
 
THE RED COCKADE. 
 
 A NOVEL OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "a GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " UNDER THE RED ROBE," *' THE HOUSE OF 
 THE WOLF," " MY LADY ROTHA," ETC. 
 
 With 48 Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. Crown Svo, 
 Cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 
 
 "Deservea a place among the best historical fiction of the latter part of this century. . 
 , . The gradual maddening of the people by agitators, the rising of those who have re- 
 venues to feed, the burnings and the outrages are described in a masterly way. The attack 
 on the castle of St. Alais, the hideous death of the steward, the looting of the great building, 
 and the esc^e ef the young lovers — these incidents are told in that breathless way which 
 Weyman has made familiar in other stories. It is only when one has finished the book and 
 has gone back to reread certain passages that the dramatic power and the sustained passion 
 of these scenes are clearly felt." — San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 *' 'The Red Cockade,' a story of the French Revolution, shows, in the first place, care- 
 ful study and deliberate, well-directed effort. Mr. Weyman . . , has caught the spirit 
 of the times. . . . The book is brimful of romantic incidents. It absorbs one's interest 
 from the first page to the last; it depicts human character with trulJi, and it causes the good 
 and brave to triumph. In a word, it is real romance." — Syracuse Post, 
 
 '* We have in this novel a powerful but not an exaggerated study of the spirit of the Hgh 
 bom and the low born which centuries of aristocratic tyranny and democratic suffering en- 
 |[endered in France. It is history which we read here, and not romance, but history which 
 IS so perfectly written, so veritable, that it blends with the romantic associations in which it 
 is set as naturally as the history in Shakespeare's plays blends with the poetry which vital- 
 izfis and glorifies it." — Mail and Express, New York, 
 
 ** It will be scarcely more than its due to say that this will always rank among Wejnnan's 
 best work. In the troublous times of 1789 in France its action is laid, and with marvellous 
 ■kill the author has delineated the most striking tj^es of men and women who made the Rev- 
 olution so terrible." — New York World. 
 
 " ' The Red Cockade * is a novel of events, instinct with the spirit of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury and full of stirring romance. The tragic period of the French Revolution forms a frame 
 in which to set the adventures of Adrien du Pont, Vicomte de Saux, and the part he plays 
 m those days of peril has a full measure of dramatic interest. . . .^ Mr. We^yman has 
 evidently studied the history of the revolution with a profound realization of its intense 
 teagedy." — Detroit Free Press. 
 
 ** The action of the story is rapid and powerful The Vicomte's struggle with his own 
 prejudices, his unhappy position in regard to his friends, the perils he encounters, and the 
 
 treat bravery he shows in his devotion to Denise are strikingly set forth, while the historical 
 ackground is made vivid and convincing— the frenzy caused by the fall of the Bastile, the 
 attacks of the mob, the defence and strategy of the nobility, all being_ described with dra- 
 matic skill and verisimilitude. It is a fascinating and absorbing tale, which carries the reader 
 with it, and impresses itself upon the mind as only a novel of unusual merit and power 
 can do." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 "The story gives a view of the times which is apart from the usual, and marked with a 
 fine study of history and of human conditions and impulse on Mr. Weyman's part. Regard- 
 ing his varied and well-chosen characters one cares only to say that they are full of mterest 
 and admirably portrayed. . . . It is one of the most spirited stories of the hour, and one 
 of the most delightfully freighted with suggestion."— Chicago Interior. 
 
 •* With so striking a character for his hero, it is not wonderful that Mr. Weyman has 
 ewoSved a story that for ingenuity of plot and felicity of treatment is equal to some of his 
 Ibest efforts. ... * The Red Cockade ' is one of the unmistakably strong histoncal ro- 
 mances of the season."' — Boston Herald. 
 
 " We are greatly mistaken if the ' Red Ceckade ' does not take rank with the veiy 
 Wat book that Mr. Weyman has written." — Scotsman. 
 
 LONGMAUS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 PIETH AVE., NEW TOEZ. 
 
SHREWSBURY. 
 
 A ROMANCE OP THE TIME OP WILLIAM AND MARY. 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AtfTHOR OP "a GBNTLSMAN OF FRAWCE," ** UNDER THB RED ROBE," "THE HOUSBOPTHl 
 WOLF," "MV lady BOTHA," BTC. 
 
 With 24> Illustrations by Claude A. Shepperson. Crown 8vO| 
 Cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50. 
 
 " Mr. Stanley Weyman bas written a rattling good romantic stary that Is in every way 
 worthy of the autnor of the ever-delightful ' Gentleman of France.* " — New York Sun- 
 
 " Considered as fictive literature, the novel is an achievement worthv of higk • • . 
 praise. The characters are projected with admirable distinctness ; the whole story and its 
 incidents are well imagined and described ; the reader, while he cannot repress his contempt 
 for the supposed narrator, is always interested in the story, and there is an abundance of 
 dramatic action. Mr. Weyman has caught the spirit of the narrative style of the period 
 without endeavoring, evidentiy, to adhere to the vocabulary and_ diction, or peculiarities of 
 syntax. ... Again we see that Mr. Weyman has no superior among Uving writers of 
 romance.** — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 " Turning^ aside from mediaeval French scenes, Stanley J, Weyman takes up in ' Shrews- 
 bury" an English theme, and he weaves from the warp and woof of history and fancy a vivid, 
 unique, close-textured and enthralling romance. ... Mr. Weyman has produced in 
 ■ Shrewsbury* a novel that all admirers of his former books will be eager to read, and that 
 win win for him new suffrages. The illustrations are drawn with skill and appreciation." 
 
 —Beacon, Boston. 
 
 "Y Shrewsbury* b a magnificent confirmation of Mr. Weyman's high estate in the world 
 of fictimi. 
 
 Again he has proved in this, his latest novel, that the romantic treatment is capable, 
 under a masterly hand, of uniting the thrill of imagination with the dignity of real life. His 
 characters are aJiye, human, unforgetable. His scenes are unhackneyed, dramatic, power- 
 ful. The action is sustained and consistent, sweeping one's interest along irresistibly to a 
 din&uetnentsX once logical and climactic. And through it all there glows that literary charm 
 which makes his stories live even as those of Scott and Dumas live. ... 
 
 The whole novel is a work of genuine literary art, fully confirming the prediction that 
 when the author of *A Gentieman of France* once began to deal with the historical materials 
 of his own country he would clinch his title to be ranked among the greatest of romantic 
 writers." — Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "Aside from the stoiy, which is remarkably well told, this book is of value for its fine 
 pen pictures of William of Orange and his leadmg courtiers — a. story of absorbing interest, 
 but It diflfers materially from any of his other works. The best thing in the Irook is the 
 sketch of Ferguson, the spy, and of the remarkable hold which he obtained over prominent 
 men by means of his cunning and his malignancy. He dominates every scene in which he 
 appears. Some of these scenes have rarely been excelled in historical fiction for intensity of 
 interest. Those who have not read it, and who are fond of the romance of adventure, wifl 
 find it fulfils Mr. Balfour's recent definition of the ideal novel — something which makes us 
 forget for the time all worry and care, and transports us to another and more picturesque age." 
 
 — San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 " A most readable and entertaining story. . . , Fergnson and Smith, the plotters, 
 the mothers of the duke and Mary the courageous, who became the wife of Price, all seem 
 very real, and with the other characters and the adventures which they go through make up 
 an mterest-holding book which can be honestly recommended to every reader of fiction." 
 
 — ^Boston Times. 
 
 "A romance written in the author's best vein. The character drawing is particularly 
 admirable, and Ricbard Price, Ferguson, King William and Brovm stand out in strong relief 
 and with the most expressive vitauity. The story is also interesting and contains many 
 strong scenes, and one follows the adventures of the various characters with unabated in- 
 terest from fiist page to last."— 'Evening Gazette, Boston. 
 
 LONGMAHS, 6EEEN. & 00.. 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW YOEK. 
 
THE CASTLE INN. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "a GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED ROBK/' 
 "SHREWSBURY," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With six full-page Illustrations by Walter Appleton Clark. 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, ornamentali $ 1 .50. 
 
 " A tale which is full of old-world romance and adventure. It has a strong flavor 
 of the under life in England when George the Third was young, when sign-posts 
 served also as gibbets, when travel was by coach and highwaymen were many, when 
 men drank deep and played high. There are plenty of stirring scenes along the way, 
 plenty of treachery and fighting at cross -purposes which lead to intricate and dramatic 
 situations. The heroine's charms recall Mile, de Cocheforet in ' Under the Red Robe,* 
 and she proves herself a maid of spirit through all the mishaps which befall her. One 
 of the most notable things about ' The Castle Inn ' is the way in which Mr. Weyman 
 has caught the spirit of the age, and manages to imbue his readers with its feeling." 
 
 —Detroit- Free Press. 
 
 " .... In * The Castle Inn,' this master of romance tells a story of the time 
 of George III. in the third person. ... A story of rapid action, with a swinging 
 succession of moving incidents that keep the reader incessantly on theguzvtve. It 
 deals with human emotions with directness and thoughtfulness." 
 
 —The Press, Phila., Pa. 
 
 "... 'The Castle Inn ' . . . is so fresh and entertaining that it takes one 
 back to 'A Gentleman of France,' and other good things this author did several years 
 a^o. Mr. Weyman, in looking about for an appropriate setting for his romance, very 
 wisely eschews scenes and people of to-day, and chooses, instead, England a hundred 
 and thirty years ago, when George III. was on her throne, and living was a for more 
 picturesque business than it is now. Beautiful maidens could be kidnapped then; 
 daring lovers faced pistols and swords in behalf of their sweethearts, and altogether 
 the pace was a lively one. Mr. Weyman knows how to use the attractive colorings to 
 the best advantage possible."— Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 *' . . . a piece of work which is infinitely better than anything else which he 
 has accomplished. He has treated the eighteenth century, the time of the elder Pitt, 
 with a grasp and a sympathy that presage a greater reputation for this novelist than 
 he has enjoyed hitherto. The story itself is worth the telling, but the great thing is 
 the way it is told." — New York Sun. 
 
 "... he has a firm grasp of his j^eriod in this book, and revives the atmos- 
 phere of the last century in England, with its shallow graces and profound brutality, 
 coherently and even with eloquence . . , it is a most interesting story, which 
 should please the reader of romantic tastes and sustain the author's reputation." 
 
 — New York Tribune. 
 
 "The characters in the book are all entertaining, and many of them are droll, 
 while a few, like the conscientious Mr. Fishwick, the attorney, and the cringing 
 parasite, Mr. Thomasson, are, in their own way, masterpieces of character study. 
 Take it all in all, ' The Castle Inn ' is in many ways the best work which has yet come 
 from Mr. Weyman's pen."— Commercial Advertiser, New York. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has surpassed himself in ' The Castle Inn,' From cover to cover 
 the book teems with adventure and romance, and the love episode is delicious. Julia 
 will live as one of the most graceful heroines in the literature of our time. . . . 
 We get an excellent idea of the doings of fashionable society in the time when George 
 III- was young, and altogether the volume can be heartily recommended as the best 
 thing that Weyman has done, and, in the opinion of one, at least, the most fascinating 
 bookof the season. "—Home Journal, New York. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW YOEK. 
 
THE JEWEL OF YNYS GALON 
 
 BEING A HITHERTO UNPRINTED CHAPTER IN 
 THE HISTORY OF THE SEA ROVERS. 
 
 By OWEN RHOSCOMYL. 
 
 With 12 Illustrations by Lancelot Speed. 
 Crown Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 ** The tale is exceptionally well told ; the descriptive passages are strong and viv- 
 id ^thout being over-elaborated ; and the recital of fights and adventures on sea and 
 land is thrilling, without leading to any excess of horrors. The characters in the book 
 are not all villians, but the progress of the narrative is lighted up by the ideals and 
 strivings of brave and honorable men. The book is certainly a most attractive addi- 
 tion to fiction of adventure, for it shows a fine degree of imagination on the part of the 
 author. A glance at the illustrations by Lancelot Speed will alone be enough to incite 
 a reading of the story from beginning to end." — The Beacon, Boston. 
 
 " It is a work of genius — of the romantic-realistic school. The story is one of 
 pirates and buried treasure in an island off the coast of Wales, and so well is it done 
 that it fascinates the reader, putting him under an hypnotic spell, lasting long after the 
 book has been laid aside. It is dedicated to 'every one whose blood rouses at a tale 
 of tall fights and reckless adventure,' to men and boys alike, yet there will be keener 
 appreciation by the boys of larger growth, whose dreams * of buried treasure and of 
 one day discovering some hoard whereby to become rich beyond imagination ' have 
 become dim and blurred in the 'toil and struggle for subsistence.' 'The Jewel of Ynys 
 Galon' is one of the great books of 1895 and will live long." — The World, New York, 
 
 " It is a splendid story of the saa, of battle and hidden treasure. This picture of 
 the times of the sea rovers is most skillfully drawn in transparent and simple English, 
 and it holds from cover to cover the absorbed interest of the reader," 
 
 — Press, Pi tladelphia. 
 
 " It is a story after the heart of both man and boy. There are no d ill moments in 
 it, and we find ourselves impatient to get on, so anxious are we to see what the next 
 turn in the events is to bnng forth ; and when we come to the end we exclaim in 
 sorrow, " Is that all? " and begin to turn back the leaves and re-read some of the most 
 exciting incidents. 
 
 Owen Rhoscomyl has just the talents for writing books of this kind, and they are 
 worth a dozen of some of the books of to-day where life flows sluggishly on in a draw- 
 ing-room. When the author writes another we want to know of it." — Times, Boston. 
 
 "The style of this thrilling story is intensely vivid and dramatic, but there is 
 nothing in it of the cheap sensational order. It is worthy a place among the classics 
 iOT boys." — ^Advertiser, Boston. 
 
 " The present school of romantic adventure has produced no more strikingly im- 
 aginative story than this weird tale of Welsh pirates m the eighteenth century. . . . 
 A most enthmlling tale, . . . told with great artistic finish and with intense spirit 
 It may be recommended without reserve to every love".' of this class of fiction." 
 
 — Times, Philadelphia. 
 
 " It is one of the best things of its kind that have appeared in a long time. . . . 
 We do HOt know how far this tale may be taken to be historical, and, to be frank, 
 we don't care. If these things did not happen, they might have happened, and ought 
 to have happened, and that is enough for us. If you like ' Treasure Island ' and 
 'Kidnapped' and the 'White Company' and 'Francis Cludde' and 'Lorna Doone,' 
 get * The Jewel of Ynys Galon ' ana read it. You will not be disappointed." 
 
 — Gazette, Colorado Springs, Col. 
 
 "Our own interest in the book led us to read it at a sitting that went far into the 
 night. The old Berserker spirit is considerably abroad in these pages, and the blood 
 coursed the fiiater as stirring incident followed desperate situation and daring enter- 
 S>rise.'* — Literary World, London. 
 
 LONGMANS, 6EEEN, & CO., 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW.TOEZ. 
 
BATTLEMENT AND TOWER. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By OWEN RHOSCOMYL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the JEWEL OF YNYS GALON." 
 
 With Frontispiece by R. Caton Woodville. 12mo, Cloth, 
 Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " It is a rare tale of the wars of the Commonwealth. The hero, Howel, is a young 
 Welsh lord whose father gives him his hereditary sword and shield, and sends him to 
 battle for the king. His adventures in love and war are intensely fascinating, and the 
 reader puts down the book with extreme reluctance. The author has carefully studied 
 the history of the times, and, besides being a thrilling tale, his story is a charming 
 picture of the manners and customs of the day. It is a Dook well worth reading." 
 
 — New Orleans Picayune. 
 
 "... a powerful romance by Owen Rhoscomyl of the swashbuckling days in 
 North Wales, when the Roundheads warred against the Cavaliers, and Charles I. of 
 England lost his head, both metaphorically and literally. . . . The picturesque 
 ana virile style of the author, and the remarkable power he displays in his character 
 drawing, place his book among the notable pieces of fiction of the year. There is 
 plenty of fighting, hard riding, love-making, and blood-letting in the story, but the 
 literary touch given to his work by the author places his product far above the average 
 of the many tales of like character that are now striving to satisfy the present demand 
 for fiction that has power without prurience." — World, New York. 
 
 " There is a vein of very pretty romance which runs through the more stirring 
 scenes of battle and of siege. Tiie novel is certainly to be widely read by those who 
 love the tale of a well-fought battle and of gallant youth in the days when men carved 
 their way to fame and fortune with a sword." — Advertiser, Boston. 
 
 FOR THE WHITE ROSE OF ARNO. 
 
 A Story of the Jacobite Rising of 1 745. 
 
 By OWEN RHOSCOMYL. 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " Owen Rhoscomyl has already written some rare stories of the wars of the Com- 
 monwealth that have met with a splendid showing of practical appreciation by a 
 world-wide circle of readers. This latest novel by the pleasing Welsh writer is one of 
 the most powerful romances that have emanated from his pen, and will doubtless re- 
 ceive as graceful a welcome to fiction literature as his previous efforts have done. It 
 is a stirring story of Wales when the Roundheads were warring against the cavaliers, 
 and Charles I of England lost his head and his coveted throne. ;The story is brimful 
 of fighting, of hard travel and riding, and old-time love making, and the flavor of old 
 world chivalry in the tenderer portions of the novel is charming and complete. With 
 the pen of a realist, the author hurries his readers back to live over the dead, old wars, 
 to dwell in strange Welsh castles that long ago crumbled into dust, and to view the 
 history and romances of those early days as something tangible with our own exist- 
 ences. The style is always active, virile and picturesque, and there is not a dull or 
 tame chapter in the book." — Courier, Boston. 
 
 "The story is told with spirit, and holds the attention without effort. The action 
 is swift, the episodes stirring, the character drawing admirable, and the style good. 
 The ultimate defeat of the Pretender, and the final denouement are tragic in their 
 intensity, and powerfully pictured."— Brooklyn Times. 
 
 " This is a really stirring story, full of wild adventure, yet having an atmosphere 
 of histork truthfulness, and conveying incidentally a good deal of information that is 
 evidently based upon fresh study," — Times, Philadelphia, 
 
 LOTSfGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FUTH AVENUE, NEW YOBK, 
 
FLOTSAM. 
 
 THE STUDY OF A LIFE. 
 
 By henry SETON MERRIMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "with EDGED TOOLS," " THE SOWERS," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by H. G. MASSEY. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " The scene of this thoroughly interesting book is laid at the time of the great 
 Indian mutiny of 1857, and the chapters devoted to that terrible episode in the history 
 of English rule in India are among the most interesting in the volume, the capture of 
 Delhi in particular being graphically described."— Herald, Oneonta, N. Y. 
 
 " It is a powerful study."— Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. 
 
 " One of the strongest novels of the season."— Boston Advertiser. 
 
 "It is decidedly a novel worth reading."— New England Magazine. 
 
 "... From first to last our interest in the dramatic development of the plot is 
 never allowed to flag. ' Flotsam ' will amply sustain the reputation which Mr. 
 Merriman has won." — Charleston News and Courier. 
 
 " It is a rather stirring story, dealing with breezy adventures in the far East, and 
 sketching in strong outlines some very engaging phases of romance in India not down 
 in Mr. Kipling's note-books." — Independent, New York. 
 
 " It is a novel of strong, direct, earnest purpose, which begins well in a literary 
 sense and ends better." — Sun, Baltimore. 
 
 "A brilliant gift for characterization and dramatic effect put his novels among 
 the best of the season for entertainment, and, to no small extent, for instruction." 
 
 —Dial, Chicago. 
 
 " Mr. Merriman can write a good story ; he proved that in ' The Sowers,' and he 
 shows it anew in this. . . The story is a strong one and told with freshness and 
 
 simple realism." — Current Literature, New York. 
 
 " His story is remarkably well told."— Herald, Columbia, Mo. 
 
 " It is a novel written with a purpose, yet it is entirely free from preaching or 
 moralizing. The young man, Harry Wylam, whose career from childhood to the 
 prime of manhood is described, is a bright, daring, and lovable character, who starts 
 with every promise of a successful life, but whose weakness of will, and love ol 
 pleasure, wreck his bright hopes midway. The author shows unusual skill in dealing 
 with a subject which in less discreet hands might have been an excuse for motbidity." 
 
 —Boston Beacon. 
 
 " A story of lively and romantic incident. . . . His story is remaAably well 
 told." — New York Sun. 
 
 " The story is full of vigorous action . and interesting." 
 
 — PvB'.vr Opinion. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FITTH AVENtTE, NEW TOfiK. 
 
THE ARCHDEACON. 
 
 A STORY. 
 
 By Mrs. L. B. WALFORD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the BABY*S GRANDMOTHER," *' LEDDY MARGET," ETCi ETC- 
 
 Crown Svo, Buckram Cloth, f 1.50. 
 
 " 'The Archdeacon * is a keen, wise, charmingly told story of character, conduct, 
 and love. . . . We won't anticipate our reader's pleasure by setting forth the 
 denouement. It is enough to say that it is delightful." — New York Tribune. 
 
 " It is such a pleasing narrative that it holds the reader's attention from beginning 
 to end. . . . It is a healthy, wholesome and pleasing story, without * problems' 
 and free from mawkish sentimentality."— Evening Post, Chicago. 
 
 "The story is in every way to be commended as a healthful, wholesome tale o( 
 modern English life. An easy, natural atmosphere pervades the whole of it." 
 
 —Transcript, Boston. 
 
 " One of the pleasant English stories, always sweet and pure, and full of heart 
 interest, that Mrs, Walford knows so well how to write. In this one the hero is a 
 brilliant young churchman who rises hi^h in his profession, but grows worldly and 
 cold, and loses sight of the high ideals with which he set out. Love for a women who 
 is strong enough to point out his failings to him, finally restores him to the simple 
 faith of his youth." — Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 '* A well-received and well-written novel."— Plain Dealer, Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 LEDDY MARGET. 
 
 By Mrs. L. B. WALFORD. 
 
 Crown 8vo, Buckram Cloth, $1,50. 
 
 *' ' Leddy Marget ' is a pathetic, graceful, amusing and winning book, and it will 
 linger in the memory when much of the more pretentious fiction of its day is for- 
 gotten." — New York Tribune. 
 
 "Not only charming for its simplicity and directness, but is significant for the 
 qualities which differentiate it from the stories of the majority of this lady's sisterhood. 
 . . . Individual and sincere, gracious and courteous, there never was a more lovable 
 old gentlewoman than Leddy Marget."— Mail and Express, New York. 
 
 " There is little that can be said about this story; it must be read, for its charm 
 cannot be reflected in a review, its delicate atmosphere cannot be reproduced. . . . 
 Therefore we wish to advise our readers to give an hour to this delightful trifle ; and 
 when they have done so they will agree with us, and we hope, be duly grateful— to 
 Mrs. Walford for creating Lady Marget, and to us for introducing them to her." 
 
 —Critic, New York. 
 
 •' Altogether this is a delightfully satisfying book. We hope it may be widely 
 read."— Living Church, Chicago. 
 
 " Although Mrs. Walford has written many novels of wider plan, she has written 
 nothing sweeter-" — Public Opinion, New York. 
 
 LOU&MANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH ATE., NEW TOEK. 
 
WAYFARING MEN. 
 
 By EDNA LYALL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "DONOVAN," **WE TWO," **DOREEN," ETC 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 
 
 " . . .. We take up Edna Lyall's last novel . . . with high expectations, and 
 we are_ not disappointed. Miss Bayly has acquired a wonderful insight into human nature, 
 and this last production of her pen is full of the true portrayals of life. , . , The whole 
 book is a whiff of ' caller air ' in these days of degenerate fiction." 
 
 — Commercial Advertiser, New York. 
 
 ** One of her best stories. It has all the qualities which have won her popularity in the 
 past" — Sentinel, Milwaukee. 
 
 "A well-written and vigorous story." — Observer, New York. 
 
 " It is a strong story, thoroughly well constructed, . . . with the characters very 
 skilfully handled. . . . Altogether the story is far above the ordinary, and bids fair to 
 be one of the most successful of the opening season." — Commercial, Buffalo. 
 
 ** Edna Lyall . . . has added another excellent volume to the number of her ro- 
 mances. ... It sustains the reputation of the author for vigorous writing and graceful 
 depicting of life, both in the peasants cabin and the noble's haU.'' 
 
 — Observer, Utica, New York. 
 
 •' Miss Lyall's novel is one of unflagging interest, written in that clear, virile style, with 
 its gentle humor and dramatic effectiveness, that readers well know and appreciate. . . , 
 On many pages of the story the writer reveals her sympathetic admiration for Ireland and 
 the Irish. * Wayfaring Men ' is a literary tonic to be warmly welcomed and cheerfully com- 
 mended as an antidote to much of the unhealthy, morbid, and enervating fiction of the day." 
 
 — Press, Philadelphia. 
 
 " The auth*r has made a pretty and interesting love-story, ... a truthful picture of 
 modem stage life, and a thoroughly human story that holds the interest to the end." 
 
 — Tribune, Chicago. 
 
 " It is a story that you will enjoy, because it does not start out to reform the world in less 
 than five himdred pages, only to wind up by being suppressed by the government. It is a 
 bright story of modem Ufe, and it will be enjoyed by those who delighted in ' Donovan,* 
 
 • We Tw«, and other books by this author."— Cincinnati Tribune. 
 
 ** A new bo«k by Edna Lyall is sure of a hearty welcome. ^ ' Wayfaring Men * will not 
 disappoint any of her admirers. It has many of the characteristics of her earlier and still 
 popular IhwIcs. It is a story of theatrical life, with which the author shows an unusually 
 extensive and sympathetic acquaintance. "—New Orleans Picayune. 
 
 "Characterized by the same charming simplicity of style and realism that won for 
 
 * Donovan' and ' Knight Errant' thfcir popularity. . . . Miss LyaU has made no attempt 
 to create dramatic situations, though it is so largely a tale of stage life, but has dealt with 
 the trials and struggles of an actor's career with an insight and delicacy that are truly pleas- 
 ing," — The Argonaut, San Francisco. 
 
 *' Is a straightforward, interesting story, in which people and things theatrical have 
 much to do. The hero is an actor, young and good, and the heroine— as Miss Lyall's hero- 
 ines are siu^ to be — is a real woman, winning and lovable. There is enough excitement in 
 die book to please romance-lovers, and there are no problems t« vex the souls of those who 
 love a story for the story's sake. It will not disappoint the large nimiber of persons who 
 Jiave learned to look forward with impatient expectation to the publication of Miss Lyall's 
 *jiext novcL* * Wayfaring Men ' is sure of a wide and a satisfied reading." 
 
 — Womankind, Springfield, Ohio. 
 
 iONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 PIPTH AVE., NEW TOM. 
 
HOPE THE HERMIT 
 
 A ROMANCE OF BORROWDALE. 
 
 By EDNA LYALL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " DOREEN," "WAYFARING MEN," ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1 .50- 
 
 " When Edna Lyall wrote this book she stepped into the front rank of living; novelists. 
 It exemplifies the finest type of historical romance, which is, of course, the highest form of 
 fictions literature. The scene of the story is one of the loveliest which could have been 
 chosen, the lake region of England. . . . Her story is full of life and incident, and at 
 the same time conveys lessons of high morality. . . . Altogether this is one of the 
 healthiest, purest, best, and most powerful romances in the whole range of English 
 literature. — Living Church, Chicago. 
 
 " Miss Bayly ... by careful examination of her authorities has been able to con- 
 struct an uncommonly good romance of the days when brother's hand was against brother. 
 It is distinctly good work — a stirring story and in every way creditable to the author." 
 
 — Public Opinion, New York. 
 
 '* The characters are well drawn, never mere puppets. There is a coherent, well- 
 thought-out, and carefully developed plot, and the style is clear and straightforward. The 
 story is wholesome and interesting, and much better worth reading than a good many of 
 the so-called * stories of adventure,' " — Beacon, Boston. 
 
 " There are few novelists of the present day whose writings are better known and liked 
 than those of Edna Lyall. They are always clean, pure and wholesome, and delightful read- 
 ing. The latest, ' Hope the Hermit,* deals with her favorite period, the seventeenth century. 
 We have the revolution, the accession of William and Mary, and the Jacobite plots, and 
 among the real characters introduced are Archbishop Tillotson, Lady Temple and George 
 Fox, the Quaker. . . . The story ends as all love stories should, to be perfectly satisfactory 
 to the average novel reader, and ' Hope the Hermit ' will find many readers, who are fond 
 of a good story well told.'' — Advertiser, Portland, Me. 
 
 *' She is quite at home with her theme. . . . It is a fine historical novel, admirably 
 written, and one of her best books." — Literary World, Boston. 
 
 "... is one of those delightful stories that have made the author very popular 
 and that one can take up with the absolute certainty of finding nothing unclean or repel- 
 lent. It is a clear, strong, well-designed, refreshing story, based upon scenes and events 
 in the days of William and Mary of England — days when a man could hardly trust his own 
 brother, and when sons were on one side in a rebellion, and the father on the other. . . . 
 Many of the situations are very exciting, the characters are admirably drawn, and the whole 
 telling of the story is entertaining, grateful and artistic. We regard it as quite as good as 
 'Donovan,' and the other popular stories by the same author." — Buffalo Commercial, 
 
 "Miss Bayly has kept her pages clean and white. The book is preSminently suitable 
 to the shelves of a circulating library, as well as to the reading-table under the family lamp. 
 It not only entertains, but gives historical data in a pleasantly impressive manner . . . 
 we have, notwithstanding a few extravagances, a very fascinating story, enlivened by the 
 admitted license of the writer of romance." — Home Journal, New York. 
 
 " This latest work of Miss Bayly has all the qualities which have won her popularity in 
 the past. The book should have a considerable vogue, appealing, as it does, not only to 
 those who like quick action, plenty of adventure, and much picturesqueness, but also to 
 those who have a cultivated literary palate." — Dispatch, Richmond, Va. 
 
 "... is one of the best specimens of Edna Lyall's talent for telling a good story 
 in engaging style. . . . The reader's attention is held throughout." 
 
 — Press, Philadelphia. 
 
 "There is much in this book to commend it. It is original and has great activity, 
 , > . Miss Lyall possesses literary talent, and her style is clear, and, to one unfamiliar 
 with her writings, this latest production will be a delightful treat. The reader will put it 
 down delighted with the story, refreshed by the study of the merits and faults of its charac- 
 ters, and cogitating upon the great events which, during the making of English history, 
 followed quickly one upon another toward the close of the seventeenth century." 
 
 —Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 LONGMAIS, GEEElSr, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH ATE,, NEW YOEK. 
 
HEART OF THE WORLD, 
 
 A STORY OF MEXICAN ADVENTURE. 
 
 By H. rider haggard, 
 
 AUTHOK OF •'SHE,*» " MONTEZUMA'S BAUGHTBR," " THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST," BTO 
 
 With 13 full-page Illustrations by Amy Sawyer. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 ^ ** The adventures of Ignatio and his white friend will compare for strangeness with any 
 taat the urriter has imagined. And the invention of the city and people of the heart, of the 
 secret order, with its ritual and history, and the unforeseen crisis of the tale, shows that the 
 quality that most distinguishes the author's former works is still his in abundance. . . , 
 The tale as a whole is so effective that we willingly overlook its improbability, and so novel 
 that even those who have read all of Rider Haggard's former works will still find somethmg 
 stuprising ui this.** — ^The Critic, 
 
 '*Here are strange adventures and wonderful heroisms. The scene is laid in Mexico. 
 The story rehearses the adventures of an athletic Englishman who loves and weds an 
 Indian princess. There are marvelous descriptions of the ' City of the Heart,' a mysteri- 
 ous town hemmed in by swamps and unknown mountains." 
 
 — Commercial Advertiser, New Yobk. 
 
 " Has a rare fascination, and in using that theme Mr. Haggard has not only hit upon 
 a story of peculiar charm, but he has also wrought out a story original and delightful to 
 even the most jaded reader of the novel of incident." — Advertiser, Boston. 
 
 "It is a fascinating tale, and the reader will not want to put the book dovm till he has 
 read the last word." — Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 "The lovers of Rider Haggard's glowing works have no reason to complain of his latest 
 book. , . . The story is, all in all, one of the most entertaining of the author's whole 
 list." — Traveller, Boston. 
 
 " In its splendor of description, weirdness of imagery, its astonishing variety of detail, 
 and the love story which blends with history and fantasy, the book without doubt is a 
 creation distinct from previous tales. Maya, the Lady of the Heart, is an ideal character. 
 • . . Interest is sustained throughout." — Post, Chicago. 
 
 "The success of Mr. Haggard's stories consists in the spirit of adventure which runs 
 through them, in their rapid succession of incidents, in the bustle which animates their 
 (characters, and in the trying situations in which they are placed. . . . this last story 
 . . . introduces his readers ... to a comparatively new field of fiction in the evolu- 
 tion of an ancient Aztec tradition concerning the concealed existence of a wonderful Golden 
 City, . . ." — Mail and Express, New York. 
 
 "A thrilling story of adventure in Mexico. It is doubtful it he has surpassed in vivid 
 coloring his detineation of the character of * Maya.' This work is really a notable addition 
 to the great body of romance with which his name is associated." — Press, Philadelphia, 
 
 •• This romance is really one of the best he has given us."— Times, Philadelphia. 
 
 " When the love of romance shall die in the human heart we may bid farewell to all that 
 is best in fiction. ... In this story we have the same reckless dash of imagination and 
 the same gorgeous profusion of barbaric scenes and startling adventure which have always 
 characterized Mr, Haggard's werks." — Independent, New York. 
 
 ** His latest, and one of his most powerful stories. It shows the same trenchant, effective 
 way of dealing with fiis story ; and the same power in open, startling situations. It will 
 pve the reader some new idea of that ancient people, the Aztecs, as well as of the more mod- 
 tm Mexicans. It is as strong as ' King Solomon's Mines.' " — Times, Hartford. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEBBN, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH AVE., NEW TOEK. 
 
JOAN HASTE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By H. rider haggard, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "she," " HEART OF THE WORLD," " THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST," ETC., ETC 
 
 With 20 full-page Illustrations by F. S. Wilsoii. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 *''■ It is less adventurous in theme, the tone is more quiet, and the manner more 
 in keeping with the so-called realistic order of fiction than anything Mr. Haggrard has 
 heretofore published. ' Joan Haste ' is by far the most earnest, and in many ways the 
 most impressive work of Mr. Haggard's that has yet been printed. The insight into 
 character which it displays is almost invariably keen and true. Every personality in 
 the story is fully alive, and individual traits of thought and action are revealed little 
 by little as the narrative progresses, until they stand forth as definite and consistent 
 creations." — The Boston Beacon. 
 
 " All the strong and striking peculiarities that have made Mr. Haggard's earlier 
 works so deservedly popular are repeated here in a new spirit. Not only that, but 
 his literary execution shows an enlarged skill and betrays the master-hand of self- 
 restraint that indicate maturity of power. His conception of character is improved by 
 the elimination of all crudeness and haste, and his delineations are consequently closer 
 to life. One is reminded strongly of Dickens in his admirable drawing of minor char- 
 acters. Mrs. Bird is such a character. . . . The illustrations of the book are nii- 
 merous and strikingly ^ood. Many of the scenes are intensely dramatic, and move the 
 feelings to the higher pitch. . . . Even in the little concerns of the story the wealth 
 of its imagination appears, glowing in the warmth of its unstinted creations. There^is 
 a splendor in his description, a weird spirit in his imagery, a marvelous variety of 
 detail, and at all points a creative force that give a perpetual freshness and newness to 
 the fiction to which he gives his powers. To take up one of his fascinating books is 
 to finish it, and this story of ' Joan Haste ' is not to be outdone by the best of them all. 
 The strength, emphasis, and vigor of his style as well as of his treatment is to be 
 credited to none but superior gifts and powers. , . , * Joan Haste ' will become 
 the favorite of everybody."— Boston Courier. 
 
 " Mr. Haggard's new story is a sound and pleasing example of modem English 
 fiction ... a book worth reading. ... Its personages are many and well 
 contrasted, and all reasonably human and interesting." — New York Times. 
 
 " In this pretty, pathetic story Mr. Haggard has lost none of his true art. , . . 
 In every respect 'Joan Haste* contains masterly literary work of which Mr, Haggard 
 has been deemed incapable by some of his former critics. Certainly no one will call 
 his latest book weak or uninteresting, while thousands who enjoy a well-told story of 
 tragic, but true love, will pronounce 'Joan Haste ' a better piece of work than Mr. 
 Haggard's stories of adventure." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 " This story is full of startling incidents. It is intensely interesting." 
 
 — Cleveland Gazette. 
 
 " The plot thickens with the growth of the story, which is one of uncommon interest 
 and pathos. The book has the advantage of the original illustrations." 
 
 — Cleveland World. 
 
 "'Joan Haste' is really a good deal more than the ordinary novel of English 
 country life. It is the best thing Haggard has done. There is some character sketch- 
 ing in it that is equal to anything of this kind we have had recently." 
 
 —Courier, Lincoln, Neb. 
 
 " In this unwonted field he has done well. 'Joan Haste ' is so far ahead of his for- 
 mer works that it will surprise even those who have had most confidence in his ability. 
 
 To those who read Thomas Hardy's ' Tess of the D'Urbervilles ' the atmosphere 
 and incidents of 'Joan Haste ' will seem familiar. It is written along: much the same 
 lines, and in this particular it might be accused of a lack of originality ; but Haggard 
 haf^come dangerously close to beating Hardy in his own field. Hardy's coarseness is 
 missing, but Hardy's power is excelled." — Munsey's Magazine. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00.. 91-93 riTTH AYENUE, NEW YOKE. 
 
THE WIZARD, 
 
 By H. rider haggard, 
 author op " she," " king solomon's mines," " joan haste," etc., etc. 
 
 With 1 9 full-page Illustrations by Charles Kerr. 
 Crown Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " I owe an exciting, delightful evening once more to a pen— say a voice — which 
 has held me a willing prisoner in a grasp of iron. It is now ten years ago, I thinls, 
 since I gave IVIr. Rider Haggard my opinion that for the rest of his life he would have 
 * Sile ' always with him to be compared with what might follow. That incomparabiC 
 romance, indeed, has never been surpassed by any living writer. Rider Haggard is 
 the possessor of an imagination stronger, more vivid, more audacious than is found in 
 any other writer of the time. I say this in order to introduce his latest work, ' The 
 Wizard.' It is only a short tale— too short — but it shows imaginative power that makes 
 it worthy to follow after ' She.' " — Sir Walter Besant, in " The Queen." 
 
 '* The scene of this thrilling story is laid in Africa, but in many respects it is a new 
 departure for the writer. . . . has never written anything more pathetic or with 
 greater force than this tale of a missionary venture and a martyr's death. The ' Pass- 
 ing Over * is told with a simple beauty of language which recalls the last passages in 
 the life of the martyred Bishop Hannington. As for the improbabilities, well, they are 
 cleverly told, and we are not afraid to say that we rather like them ; but Haggard has 
 never achieved a conception so beautiful as that of Owen, or one that he has clothed 
 with so great a semblance of life." — Pacific Churchman, San Francisco. 
 
 " ' The Wizard ' is one of his most vivid and brilliant tales. Miracles are no new 
 things in the frame-work used by the writers of fiction, but no one has attempted iust 
 the use of them which Haggard makes in this novel. It is so entirely new, so abso- 
 lutely in line with the expressed beliefs of devout folk everywhere, that it ought to 
 strike a responsive chore! in the popular heart as did ' Ben Hur,' and should be equally 
 successful." — Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 
 
 " Mr. Haggard gives full play in the history of the conversion of the Son of Fire 
 to his strong imagination, and he has succeeded admirably in conveying an earnest 
 religious lesson, while telling one of his most exciting and entertaining stories." 
 
 — Beacon, Boston. 
 
 "It is to be read at one sitting, without resisting that fascination which draws you 
 on from one to another critical moment of the story, to resolve some harrowing doubt 
 or dilemma. . . . Hokosa, the wizard, whose art proved at first so nearly fatal to 
 the messenger's cause, and whose devilish plots resulted finally in conversion and 
 Christianity, is one of Mr. Haggard's best creations. The portrait has a vigor and 
 picturesQueness comparable to that of ' Allan Quatermain, 
 *^ *^ —Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 ' It has all the spirit and movement of this popular author's finest work." 
 
 ^ —Evening Bulletin, Philadelphia. 
 
 " A brilliant story truly, and here and there alive with enthusiasm and fire. Mr- 
 Ha^^Trd describes savage combats with rare skill, and, somehow we revel with him 
 whflheshtwsuflegion after legion of untamed children of nature fighmg to the gnm 
 dekth with uncouth Weapons yet with as dauntless a courage as the best trained solders 
 ofEurope It may be wrong for him to stir up our savage instmcts but, after all £ 
 healthy animaliim is not to te scoffed at in any Creed of men."-NEW York Herald. 
 
 " Is as full of adventure as the most ardent admirer of tales of courage and daring 
 could dSre As its title implies, it portrays a character who is an adept mwitch- 
 c?aft ciSnTng and knowledge of human nature. There is a distinc religious element 
 Sloighrtif e book ; indeel, but for its religious motive th|re wouM b^e_no st^ory.;^^ 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FITTH ATE., NEW TOEK. 
 
SWALLOW 
 
 A STORY OF THE GREAT TREK 
 
 By H. rider haggard 
 
 author or *' shb," " king solomon's mines," *' joan haste," " the wmard," etc., etc. 
 
 With 12 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Clothp 
 Ornamental, $1.50 
 
 *' The hand of the author of ' She ^ has not lost its cunningf. Indeed, we think it 
 will be the verdict of most readers of * Swallow ' that, great as Conan Doyle and 
 Stanley Weyman are in the field of romance, in the art of sheer, unadulterated story- 
 telling, Rider Hag-gard is the master of them all. * Swallow' is an African story, a 
 tale of the Boers and Kaffirs and Zulus, and it grips the attention of the reader from 
 the very beginning and holds it steadily to the end. The tale is told by an old Boer 
 woman, ' the Vrouw Botmar,' and it is a masterpiece of narration. . , , The finest 
 portrait of all is that of the little Kaf&r witch doctoress, Sihamba, who will live in the 
 reader's memory long after he has closed the book, and who is a worthy companion of 
 the great Umslopogaas himself. Altogether * Swallow ^ is a remarkable romance." 
 
 — Charleston News. 
 
 *' It is a slashing, dashing , . . romance of Boers and Kaffirs in South Africa that 
 Rider Haggard has given his admirers under the title, * Swallow. * The title is the Kaffir 
 name for the charming Boer maiden, Suzanne Botmar. . . ' Swallow ' is one of 
 those utterly impossible and yet altogether engrossing tales that Rider Haggard knows 
 so well how to weave. He is always at best among the kloofs and kopjes of South 
 Africa, and his many admirers will be delighted to know that he has returned to the 
 field of his early successes."— Chicago Tribune. -% 
 
 "The Englishman's long pursuit of his bride ; the manner in which she escaped 
 from Swart Piet only to encounter as great perils in her wanderings, and how she 
 dwelt among savages for two years, with Sihamba, the little witch doctoress and ruler 
 of the Tribe of the Mountains, gives Mr, Haggard ample opportunity to display his 
 ingenuity as a plot-maker, and illustrates his wonderful powers of dramatic narration. 
 The story is crowded with incident leading up te the tragic enaeunter on the cliff 
 between Ralph and Swart Piet and the torture and death of Sihamba. Lovers of the 
 wild and adventurous, subtly touched with the supernatural, will find 'Swallow' 
 jjuite to their liking."— Detroit Free Press. 
 
 '* A thrilling tale, brimning over with adventure, and full of the savage loves and 
 hates and fightings of uncivilized peoples. ... In such stones of wild adventure 
 Rider Haggard has no equal, and * Swallow ' will be read with the unflagging interest 
 we have given to the author's other romances."— Picayune, New Orleans, La. 
 
 " It is justly considered one of the very best of this author's productions. ... It 
 is unquestionably a very entertaining story of Boer life."— Hartford Post. 
 
 " A story, which once begun, must be read to the end."— New York Tribune. 
 
 " The interest grows as one goes on, and at the close it is at least an open question 
 whether he has ever done a better piece of work. ... It may safely be said that 
 few who begm the story will fail to read on with growing interest to the end, and that 
 most will part from the characters with genuine regret."— Hartford Times. 
 
 " One of the things Rider Haggard can always contrive to do is to tell a thrilling 
 tale, to keep his readers trembling on the verge of discovery or torn with anxiety until 
 the very last line of the book. His happy hunting-ground is South Africa, and there is 
 located * Swallow,' than which few of his romances have been better reading. We 
 find it preferable, for our own part, to such an extravaganza as ' She,* since it deals 
 with people in whom it is possible to take a more definite interest than in savages oi 
 magicians. . . . A thrilling and unusual story." — Milwaukee Sentinel. 
 
 *' Once more the African wizard has waved his enchanted wand and conjured out 
 of the mysterious Dark Continent another fascinating romance. ... It is ques- 
 tionable if the author has ever produced a story in all respects better than this." 
 
 — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 LOHGMANS, GEEEN,& 00., 91-93 FIPTH AVENUE, NEW TOEK. 
 
THE KING'S RIVALS. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL NOVEL OF THE TIME OF CHARLES 11. 
 
 By E. N. barrow. 
 
 With Frontispiece by W. D. Stevens. 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. Price, $1.25. 
 
 Written i^=.vl"/^f «'' ""J" *° *^^^ '5°'', == """^ °' 'he notable novels of the year 
 ^^oti^Uomlnc^ ^"^"^u^^"-^ elegance it exemplifies the highes^ty^fo 
 SJfeSu^n'fla^Tn'.fthe pl»t is wJrk'5oul'rt"h^^^Vs"k1;^''" "^^^^ i^hlfb^V^^^K^ 
 gfely b«,H8:ht into the^amily circKp^t'i'n&tteas of the youSg. W°e\S7ea'k 
 font a large and delighted circle of'readers."-LiviNG Church, ChicIgo. "^P^" 
 
 ^„i™I?l? '^ ^ unusually charming story, the scenes of which are laid in the earlv 
 hH^f V^^' ^?^ ^'""^ ^™°> "'^ colonies to London and back again? The her^ a 
 tebeS.h^?L\'^^- ,• ■ • . An °"VS"/1 refinement about tbe^oyWdspeopteo 
 belieTS him tbe scion of some aristocratic family. . . He goes finally back fo 
 
 |PeI»nd to ckim his rights and through soiie curious chance^CI?om^'aeffing.s 
 Rival. The story is quaintly and beautifully told."— New Orleans Picayune. 
 
 , ," • • • Many historical personages appear on the stage, among them Charles II.. 
 Lady Castlemaine and the Duchess of Albemarle. The plot is good, and the story is 
 well worked up and interesting. At the very least ;he author deserves a captaincy ia 
 col. btanley J. Weyman's regiment of romancers."— Express, Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
 A LOVER'S REVOLT. 
 
 A NOVEL OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 
 
 By J, W. DE FOREST, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " OVERLAND," ** KATE BEAUMONT," ETC.^ ETC 
 
 With Frontispiece by George Varian 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. Price, $1,50 
 
 ••The conscientious care with which he records history and native types will give 
 fais books a value somewhat apart from the amusement to fae got out of them." 
 
 —New York Times. 
 
 " A love story with a military" setting, and a very readable one at that, . 
 he culls enough that is historically true to clothe with interest a rather strange, but 
 not unreal or impossible, drama of love. The characters are all interesting, and the 
 book is good enough to diffuse contentment while its 400 and more pages are under 
 the eyes." — Globe, Boston, 
 
 "A truly delightful historical novel that deserves to rank in ' Hugh Wynne's * 
 class." — Express, Buffalo. 
 
 " A thrilling story of the Revolutionary War , . , the first novel in nearly a 
 decade from his erstwhile prolific pen. In the long silence, however, his hand has 
 gained new skill, and the reader recalls for emphatic endorsement the recent praise 
 of Mr. W. D. Howells for all De Forest's work. Thank Heaven for an American 
 who can no more sit in impartial judgment on his own country than he could on his 
 own mother." — Pilot, Boston. 
 
 LONGMAirS, GEEE5, & 00., 91-93 flFTH AVE„ NEW YOEt 
 
THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 By S. LEVETT YEATS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the HONOUR OP SAVELLI," ETC., ETC. 
 
 1 2mo, cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .25. 
 
 " The story is full of action, it is alive from cover to cover, and is so compact with thrill- 
 ing adventure that there is no room for a dull page. The chevalier tells his own story, but 
 he is the most charming of egoists. He wins our sympathies from the outset by his boyish 
 naivete, his downright manhness and bravery. , . . Not only has Mr. Yeats written an 
 excellent tale of adventure, but he has shown a close study of character which does not bor- 
 row merely from the trappings of historical actors, but which denotes a keen knowledge of 
 human nature, and a shrewd insight into the workings of human motives. . . . The 
 fashion of the period is kept well in mind, the style of writing has just that touch of old- 
 fashioned formality which serves to veil the past from the present, and to throw the lights 
 and shadows into a harmony of tone. . . , The work has literary quality of a genuine 
 sort in it, which raises it above a numerous host of its fellows in kind. 
 
 — Bookman, New York. 
 
 "... A story of Huguenot days, brim full of action that takes shape in plots, sud- 
 den surprises, fierce encounters, and cunning intrigues. The author is so saturated with the 
 times of which he writes that the story is realism itself. . . . The story is brilliant and 
 thrilling, and whoever sits down to give it attention will reach the last page with regret" 
 
 — Globe, Boston. 
 
 "... A tale of more than usual interest and of genuine literary merit . . , 
 The characters and scen^^ in a sense seem far removed, yet they live in our hearts and seem 
 contemporaneous througH the skill and philosophic treatment of the author. Those men and 
 women seem akin to us ; they are flesh and blood, and are impelled by human motives as we 
 are. One cannot follow the fortunes of this hero without feehng refreshed and benefited." 
 
 — Globe-Democrat, St. Louis. 
 
 "A book that may be recommended to all those who appreciate a good, hearty, rollicldng 
 story of adventure, with lots of fierce fighting and a proper proportion of love-makmg. , . . 
 There is in his novel no more history than is necessary, and no tedious detail ; it is a story 
 inspired by, but not slavishly following, history. . . . The book is full of incident, and 
 from the first chapter to the last the action never flags. ... In the Chevalier the author 
 has conceived a sympathetic character, for d'Auriac is more human and less of a puppet than 
 most heroes of historical novels, and consequently there are few readers who will not flnd en- 
 joyment in the story of his thrilling adventures. . . . This book should be read by all 
 who love a good story of adventures. There is not a dull page in it." — New York Sun, 
 
 "A capital story of the Dumas- We3nnian order. . . . The first chapters bring one 
 right into the thick of the story, and from thence on the interest is unflagging. The Cheva- 
 lier himself is an admirably studied character, whose straightforwardness and simplicity, 
 bravery, and impulsive and reckless chivalry, win the reader's sympathy. D'Auriac has 
 something of the intense vitality of Dumas's heroes, and the deUghtful improbabilities through 
 which he passes so invincibly have a certain human quality which renders them akin to our 
 day. Mr. Levett Yeats has done better in this book than in anything else he has written." 
 
 — Picayune, New Orleans. 
 
 " The interest in the story does not la^ for an instant ; all is life and action. The pict- 
 uresque historical setting is admirably painted, and the characters are skilfully drawn, espe- 
 -cially that of the king, a true monarch, a brave soldier, and a gentleman. The Chevalier is 
 the typical hero of romance, fearing nothing save a stain on his honor, and with such a hero 
 there can not but be vigor and excitement in every page of the story." 
 
 — Mail and Express, New York. 
 
 " As a story of adventure, pure and simple, after the type originally seen in Dumas's 
 'Three Musketeers,' the book is well worthy of high praise." — Outlook, New York. 
 
 " We find all the fascination of mediaeval France, which have made Mr. Weyman's stories 
 such general favorites. . . . We de not see how any intelligent reader can take it up 
 without keen enjoyment " — Living Church, Chicago. 
 
 lONGMAlifS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 PIPTH AYE., NEW TOEK. 
 
THE HEART OF DENISE 
 
 and other tales. 
 By S. LEVETT-YEATS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "tHH CHEVALIER d'aURIAC/' '* THE HONOUR OF SAVHLLI,'* ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 "The author of the fascinating and brilliant story of 'The Chevalier d'Auriac'' 
 knows the main roads and bypaths of the sixteenth century well, and in his latest 
 essay in romance he catches the spirit of the times he portrays. With a few sugr^es- 
 tive touches a brilliant, somewhat self-willed beauty of the court is sketched inDenise, 
 whose flirtations, innocent enough upon her part, with the young but unscrupulous 
 Marquis de Clermont, lead to a peremptory command on the part of the King for her 
 marriage, at three hours' notice, to Blaise de Lorgnac. . . . 
 
 The story which gives the title to the book occupies something over a third of the 
 volume. The remainder is a collection of eight short stories, most of which are some- 
 what melodramatic in character, but all are brilliantly told.'* 
 
 — Chicago Tribune. 
 
 **A good romantic story, graphically told." 
 
 — New York World. 
 
 "A brief, rapid story of those picturesque days when the Flying Scjuadron fluttered 
 its silken sails at the gay French court of which Catherine de Medici was the ruling 
 spirit— such is * The Heart of Denise/ which may be praised as more in the style of 
 'The House of the Wolf or *A Gentleman of France ' than anything Mr. Weyman is 
 writing nowadays." —Sentinel, Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 "A capital love story. . . . It is a pleasant story most pleasantly told. The 
 other stories in the book are of equal interest ; they are told with admirable skill and 
 most excellent art." — Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston. 
 
 " We find more varieties of talent than we remember in his earlier novels. * The 
 Chevalier d'Auriac * and 'The Honour of Savelli,' 'The Heart of Denise' and 'The 
 Captain Moratti's Last Affair' resemble these in the romantic use of the historical 
 material of which they are composed ; the other seven display a wider range of in- 
 vention in different directions. Taken as a whole, the stories here are considerably 
 above the average stories of better-known writers than Mr. Yeats." 
 
 — Mail and Express. 
 
 "All of them are bright, crisp and taking — generally weird and fanciful, but told 
 with an easy and fluent swing which imparts a pleasant flavor to the most mconse- 
 quential of their details." —San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 "There are many well-told adventures .... with a defined originality and 
 manner." — Baltimore Sun. 
 
 "Mr. Yeats writes well ; in his Indian tales there is distinct touch of cleverness. 
 The story that gives its name to the book is Weyman all over. There is a charming, 
 if shrewish, heroine, a misjudged hero, a courtly villain, and the scene is laid in the 
 France of the Medicis." —Journal, Providence, R.I. 
 
 " The story of Denise is interesting and at times highly dramatic." 
 
 — St. Louis Republic 
 
 "He has romance and pretty turn for dramatic episodes. . . , * The Captain 
 Moratti's Last Affair' is a delightful tale of Southern villainy, and drama, and the 
 longest story in the book, *The Heart of Denise, ' justifies its length by its romantic 
 and thrilling character. The Indian tales show that while Mr. Yeats is far below Mr. 
 Kipling in the treatment of the material to be found among the natives, he is at any 
 rate clever and readable. His vignette of landscape are drawn with special grace." 
 
 — N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 LONGMANS, 6EEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIPTH AVENUE, NEW TOEK. 
 
PARSON KELLY 
 
 A NEW HISTORICAL NOVEL 
 
 By a. E. W. mason 
 author of "the coitrtship of morrice buckler" 
 
 AND 
 
 ANDREW LANG 
 
 With Frontispiece, Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price, $1.50 
 
 " ' Parson Kelly ' is a beguiling variation on the old delightful theme. . 
 Mr. Lang has brought to the composition of this novel so much historical L e, 
 so much insight into the Jacobite comedy, so much sympathy for the actors n^ it, 
 both major and obscure, that the book is alive with true romance. The Prince 
 scarcely appears, yet the air of plot and counterplot, of brave deeds and shabby 
 intrigue, in which he and his house are enveloped, breathes from every page. 
 Historical knowledge and imaginative power are in ' Parson Kelly ' blended into 
 a remarkably compact and plausible unit." — New York Tribune. 
 
 " We conscientiously refrain from giving the prospective reader any foretaste 
 of the exceeding charm of this delightful volume. That charm is continuous and 
 in crescendo from the initial to the final page, and it is impossible to conceive 
 that the most exacting should have a shadow of disappointment with anything 
 about the book either in its personnel, which is very beautiful, or in its literary 
 material, which is exceptionally fascinating. The only ground of regret is that 
 it comes to an end. It should easily rank with the most popular publications of 
 the year." — Home Journal, New York. 
 
 " This is an extremely clever novel ; witty, humorous, animated and pictu- 
 resque, and so full of dramatic situations that it would make a fine play. . . . 
 The characterization is strong, the narrative brisk, and in style and incident the 
 novel possesses highly attractive qualities. A very pretty love-story runs 
 through the book." — Chronicle-Telegram, Pittsburg. 
 
 "The acute and rollicking Parson, with his coterie of friends, his love of ad- 
 venture, his chivalry, is the most entertaining of intriguers. . . . We have a 
 nearer acquaintance with the learned and eccentric Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
 tagu. We are hurried through the balls and routs of the early part of the eigh- 
 teenth century, and recognize Mr. Lang's thorough study of the times, and Mr. 
 Mason's dramatic faculty of plot construction." — SuN, Baltimore, Md. 
 
 " Nick Wogan is such an Irishman as Lever loved to draw, a soldier of fort- 
 une, with a ready tongue and a ready sword. . . The reader falls in love 
 with him at once, and looks for his name at the beginning of each chapter, sure 
 that no page can be dull upon which the name stands. But, in truth, ' dull ' is 
 not a word to be mentioned in connection with any portion of the book whose wit 
 and charming style revives memories of the old masters of fiction. ' Parson 
 Kelly ' should have a great success if success is measured by real merit." 
 
 — New Orleans Times-Democrat. 
 
 " This novel holds one's attention closely by reason of the skill with which we 
 are constantly kept in the presence of some unsolved mystery. The scene is 
 England in the time of George I., and the principal characters are conspirators 
 in the Jacobite cause trying to place the Pretender on the throne. ... A 
 fascinating character in the book is Nick Wogan, the friend of Kelly, the con- 
 fident of his love-affairs and his avenger on Scrope. The plot thus barely out- 
 lined is exceedingly intricate and ingenious. . . . The style is attractive, 
 and displays, particularly, perhaps, in the dialogues, piquancies such as one 
 often meets with from the pen of Mr. Lang. " 
 
 — New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVU., NEW lOEE.