try recommended and insisted
upon by his lordship. It feels that this is not warfare as the Council
understands warfare, and the people share the feelings of the Council.
It is felt that it would be worthier and more commendable if Lord
Wellington were to measure himself in battle with the French, making a
definite attempt to stem the tide of invasion on the frontiers."

"Quite so," said O'Moy, his hand clenching and unclenching, and
Tremayne, who watched him, wondered how long it would be before the
storm burst. "Quite so. And because the Council disapproves of the
very measures which at Lord Wellington's instigation it has publicly
recommended, it does not trouble to see that those measures are carried
out. As you say, it does not feel itself able to interfere with his
dispositions. But it does not scruple to mark its disapproval by
passively hindering him at every turn. Magistrates are left to
neglect these enactments, and because," he added with bitter sarcasm,
"Portuguese valour is so red-hot and so devilish set on battle the
Militia Acts calling all men to the colours are forgotten as soon as
published. There is no one either to compel the recalcitrant to take
up arms, or to punish the desertions of those who have been driven into
taking them up. Yet you want battles, you want your frontiers defended.
A moment, sir! there is no need for heat, no need for any words. The
matter may be said to be at an end." He smiled--a thought viciously,
be it confessed--and then played his trump card, hurled his bombshell.
"Since the views of your Council are in such utter opposition to
the views of the Commander-in-Chief, you will no doubt welcome Lord
Wellington's proposal to withdraw from this country and to advise his
Majesty's Government to withdraw the assistance which it is affording
you."

There followed a long spell of silence, O'Moy sitting back in his chair,
his chin in his hand, to observe the result of his words. Nor was he in
the least disappointed. Dom Miguel's mouth fell open; the colour slowly
ebbed from his cheeks, leaving them an ivory-yellow; his eyes dilated
and protruded. He was consternation incarnate.

"My God!" he contrived to gasp at last, and his shaking hands clutched
at the carved arms of his chair.

"Ye don't seem as pleased as I expected," ventured O'Moy.

"But, General, surely... surely his Excellency cannot mean to take so...
so terrible a step?"

"Terrible to whom, sir?" wondered O'Moy.