ne of the patriots on the platform
seemed to watch me with understanding, and when I reached the
curtained doorway, my glance meeting his, he dismissed me with his
eyelids.

I found myself in a dark passage, and with his gentle laugh the
Vicomte took my arm.

"All that out there," he whispered, "is a mere blind. It is in the
inner room that they act. Out there they merely talk. Come with me.
Gently--there are two steps--my dear Howard. These are the men--he
paused with his fingers on the handle of a door--who will rule France
when the Emperor is dead or deposed."

With that we entered, and those assembled--some sitting at a table,
others standing about the room--saluted the Vicomte de Clericy almost
as a leader. Some of the faces I knew--indeed, they are to be found in
the illustrated histories of France. The thoughts of others were known
to me, for many were journalists of repute--men of advanced views and
fiery pens. Perhaps, after all, I knew as little of the Vicomte de
Clericy as of any man there. For he seemed to have laid aside that
pleasant and garrulous senility which had awakened my dull conscience.

Although he did not deliver a speech during the proceedings, as did
some, his attitude was rather that of a leader than of a mere
on-looker. Here was no mere watching, thought I. My patron was known
to all, and went from group to group talking in the ear of many. There
was, indeed, much talking as I have always found in the world, and but
little listening. The Vicomte introduced me to some of his friends.

"Mr. Howard," he said, "an English gentleman who is kind enough to act
as my secretary. Mr. Howard is too wise to trouble himself with
politics."

And I thought some of them had a queer way of looking at me.

"A deceiver or a dupe?" I heard one ask another, trusting too far the
proverbial dulness of British ears.

The topic of the evening was, of course, the fall of the ministry--a
matter of great moment at that time, and, it may be, through all the
ages--though a recital of its possible effects would be but dull
reading to-day. When a chain is riven, the casual on-looker takes but
small interest in the history of each link. This event of December,
1869, was in truth an important link in the chain of strange events
that go to make up the history of the shortest and most marvellous of
the great dynasties of the world.

I stood among those politicians and wondered what the greatest of
their race at that