o mount a throne."

"I cannot believe it! Where is there a man who would turn from what is
offered you? Consider the life before you in this country. Compare it
with the life you are throwing away." She joined her hands. "Sire, the
men of my house who fought for the kings of yours, plead through me that
you will take your inheritance."

I kept my eyes on Abbe Edgeworth. He considered the padlocked book as an
object directly in his line of vision. Its wooden covers and small metal
padlock attracted the secondary attention we bestow on trifles when we
are at great issues.

I answered her,

"The men of your house--and the women of your house, madame--cannot
dictate what kings of my house should do in this day."

"Well as you appear to know him, madame," said Abbe Edgeworth, "and
loyally as you urge him, your efforts are wasted."

She next accused me--

"You hesitate on account of the Indians!"

"If there were no Indians in America, I should do just as I am doing."

"All men," the abbe noted, "hold in contempt a man who will not grasp
power when he can."

"Why should I grasp power? I have it in myself. I am using it."

"Using it to ruin yourself!" she cried.

"Monseigneur!" The abbe rose. We stood eye to eye. "I was at the side of
the king your father upon the scaffold. My hand held to his lips the
crucifix of our Lord Jesus Christ. In his death no word of bitterness
escaped him. True son of St. Louis, he supremely loved France. Upon you
he laid injunction to leave to God alone the punishment of regicides,
and to devote your life to the welfare of all Frenchmen. Monseigneur!
are you deaf to this call of sacred duty? The voice of your father from
the scaffold, in this hour when the fortunes of your house are lowest,
bids you take your rightful place and rid your people of the usurper who
grinds France and Europe into the blood-stained earth!"

I wheeled and walked across the floor from Abbe Edgeworth, and turned
again and faced him.

"Monsieur, you have put a dart through me. If anything in the universe
could move me from my position, what you have said would do it. But my
father's blood cries through me to-day--'Shall the son of Louis XVI be
forced down the unwilling throats of his countrymen by foreign
bayonets?--Russians--Germans--English!--Shall the dauphin of France be
hoisted to place by the alien?'--My father would forbid it! . . . You
appeal to my family love. I bear about with me everywhere the pict