he theatre,
and there, in a side room, with the music of the opera going on
upon the stage, the plaudits of the audience ringing in his ears,
and ballet-girls flitting in and out in their stage dresses, the
heir of France gave up his life, with kindly words upon his dying
lips, reminding us of Charles II. on his deathbed.

As I have said, Louis XVIII.'s reign was not without plots and
conspiracies. One of those in 1823 was got up by the Carbonari.
Lafayette was implicated in it. It was betrayed, however, the night
before it was to have been put in execution, and such of its leaders
as could be arrested were guillotined. Lafayette was saved by the
fact that the day fixed upon for action was the anniversary of his
wife's death,--a day he always spent in her chamber in seclusion.

It may be desirable to say who were the Carbonari. "Carbone" is
Italian for charcoal. The Carbonari were charcoal-burners. The
conspirators took their name because charcoal-burners lived in
solitary places, and were disguised by the coal-dust that blackened
their faces. It was a secret society which extended throughout
France, Italy, and almost all Europe. It was joined by all classes.
Its members, under pain of death, were forced to obey the orders
of the society. The deliverance of Italy from the Austrians became
eventually the prime object of the institution.

Lafayette, during his visit to America in 1824, expressed himself
freely about the Bourbons. "France cannot be happy under their
rule," he said;[1] "and we must send them adrift. It would have been
done before now but for the hesitation of Laffitte. Two regiments
of guards, when ordered to Spain under the Duc d'Angouleme, halted
at Toulouse, and began to show symptoms of mutiny. The matter was
quieted, however, and the affair kept as still as possible. But
all was ready. I knew of the whole affair. All that was wanted
to make a successful revolution at that time was money. I went
to Laffitte; but he was full of doubts, and dilly-dallied with
the matter. Then I offered to do it without his help. Said I: 'On
the first interview that you and I have without witnesses, put
a million of francs, in bank-notes, on the mantelpiece, which I
will pocket unseen by you. Then leave the rest to me.' Laffitte
still fought shy of it, hesitated, deliberated, and at last decided
that he would have nothing at all to do with it."

[Footnote 1: Vincent Nolte, Fifty Years in Two Hemispheres.]

Here the