he contempt of his enemies, would have had
the power to bring death and devastation upon two flourishing provinces
and cause serious anxiety to the leaders of the revolution in the very
hour of its success!" He paused to let the wonder of it penetrate our
minds.

"Death and devastation," somebody murmured in surprise: "how shocking!"

The old General gave a glance in the direction of the murmur and went
on. "Yes. That is, war--calamity. But the means by which she obtained
the power to work this havoc on our southern frontier seem to me, who
have seen her and spoken to her, still more shocking. That particular
thing left on my mind a dreadful amazement which the further experience
of life, of more than fifty years, has done nothing to diminish." He
looked round as if to make sure of our attention, and, in a changed
voice: "I am, as you know, a republican, son of a Liberator," he
declared. "My incomparable mother, God rest her soul, was a Frenchwoman,
the daughter of an ardent republican. As a boy I fought for liberty;
I've always believed in the equality of men; and as to their
brotherhood, that, to my mind, is even more certain. Look at the fierce
animosity they display in their differences. And what in the world do
you know that is more bitterly fierce than brothers' quarrels?"

All absence of cynicism checked an inclination to smile at this view of
human brotherhood. On the contrary, there was in the tone the melancholy
natural to a man profoundly humane at heart who from duty, from
conviction, and from necessity, had played his part in scenes of
ruthless violence.

The General had seen much of fratricidal strife. "Certainly. There is no
doubt of their brotherhood," he insisted. "All men are brothers, and
as such know almost too much of each other. But"--and here in the
old patriarchal head, white as silver, the black eyes humorously
twinkled--"if we are all brothers, all the women are not our sisters."

One of the younger guests was heard murmuring his satisfaction at the
fact. But the General continued, with deliberate earnestness: "They are
so different! The tale of a king who took a beggar-maid for a partner of
his throne may be pretty enough as we men look upon ourselves and upon
love. But that a young girl, famous for her haughty beauty and, only
a short time before, the admired of all at the balls in the Viceroy's
palace, should take by the hand a guasso, a common peasant, is
intolerable to our sentiment o