ed my esteem. Sairmeuse has sold his estate of Gondresy, one of
the finest in the north of France. He has cut down the timber, and
put up to auction the old chateau, a princely dwelling, which is to be
converted into a sugar refinery; all this for the purpose, as he says,
of raising money to increase his income!"

"And was that the cause of your rupture?" inquired Albert, without much
surprise.

"Certainly it was! Do you not think it a sufficient one?"

"But, sir, you know the duke has a large family, and is far from rich."

"What of that? A French noble who sells his land commits an unworthy
act. He is guilty of treason against his order!"

"Oh, sir," said Albert, deprecatingly.

"I said treason!" continued the count. "I maintain the word. Remember
well, viscount, power has been, and always will be, on the side of
wealth, especially on the side of those who hold the soil. The men of
'93 well understood this principle, and acted upon it. By impoverishing
the nobles, they destroyed their prestige more effectually than by
abolishing their titles. A prince dismounted, and without footmen, is
no more than any one else. The Minister of July, who said to the people,
'Make yourselves rich,' was not a fool. He gave them the magic formula
for power. But they have not the sense to understand it. They want to
go too fast. They launch into speculations, and become rich, it is true;
but in what? Stocks, bonds, paper,--rags, in short. It is smoke they are
locking in their coffers. They prefer to invest in merchandise, which
pays eight or ten per cent, to investing in vines or corn which will
return but three. The peasant is not so foolish. From the moment he owns
a piece of ground the size of a handkerchief, he wants to make it as
large as a tablecloth. He is slow as the oxen he ploughs with, but as
patient, as tenacious, and as obstinate. He goes directly to his object,
pressing firmly against the yoke; and nothing can stop or turn him
aside. He knows that stocks may rise or fall, fortunes be won or lost on
'change; but the land always remains,--the real standard of wealth. To
become landholders, the peasant starves himself, wears sabots in winter;
and the imbeciles who laugh at him will be astonished by and by when he
makes his '93, and the peasant becomes a baron in power if not in name."

"I do not understand the application," said the viscount.

"You do not understand? Why, what the peasant is doing is what the
nobles ou