this bewildering change in Andre-Louis, which rendered
him faithless to the side that employed him.

"I am not here," continued Andre-Louis, "merely to demand at your hands
vengeance upon Philippe de Vilmorin's murderers. I am here to tell you
the things he would to-day have told you had he lived."

So far at least he was frank. But he did not add that they were things
he did not himself believe, things that he accounted the cant by which
an ambitious bourgeoisie--speaking through the mouths of the lawyers, who
were its articulate part--sought to overthrow to its own advantage the
present state of things. He left his audience in the natural belief that
the views he expressed were the views he held.

And now in a terrible voice, with an eloquence that amazed himself,
he denounced the inertia of the royal justice where the great are the
offenders. It was with bitter sarcasm that he spoke of their King's
Lieutenant, M. de Lesdiguieres.

"Do you wonder," he asked them, "that M. de Lesdiguieres should
administer the law so that it shall ever be favourable to our great
nobles? Would it be just, would it be reasonable that he should
otherwise administer it?" He paused dramatically to let his sarcasm sink
in. It had the effect of reawakening Le Chapelier's doubts, and checking
his dawning conviction in Andre-Louis' sincerity. Whither was he going
now?

He was not left long in doubt. Proceeding, Andre-Louis spoke as he
conceived that Philippe de Vilmorin would have spoken. He had so often
argued with him, so often attended the discussions of the Literary
Chamber, that he had all the rant of the reformers--that was yet true in
substance--at his fingers' ends.

"Consider, after all, the composition of this France of ours. A million
of its inhabitants are members of the privileged classes. They compose
France. They are France. For surely you cannot suppose the remainder
to be anything that matters. It cannot be pretended that twenty-four
million souls are of any account, that they can be representative of
this great nation, or that they can exist for any purpose but that of
servitude to the million elect."

Bitter laughter shook them now, as he desired it should. "Seeing their
privileges in danger of invasion by these twenty-four millions--mostly
canailles; possibly created by God, it is true, but clearly so created
to be the slaves of Privilege--does it surprise you that the dispensing
of royal justice should be placed in