n the pain and danger of disease,
you shall hesitate to kneel before your Maker."

"You look at the fault," she said, "and not at the excuse. Has your own
heart never leaped within you at some story of oppression? But, alas,
no! for you were born upon a throne."

"I was born of woman," said the prince; "I came forth from my mother's
agony, helpless as a wren, like other nurselings. This, which you
forgot, I have still faithfully remembered. Is it not one of your
English poets, that looked abroad upon the earth and saw vast
circumvallations, innumerable troops manoeuvring, warships at sea, and a
great dust of battles on shore; and, casting anxiously about for what
should be the cause of so many and painful preparations, spied at last,
in the centre of all, a mother and her babe? These, madam, are my
politics; and the verses, which are by Mr. Coventry Patmore, I have
caused to be translated into the Bohemian tongue. Yes, these are my
politics: to change what we can, to better what we can; but still to
bear in mind that man is but a devil weakly fettered by some generous
beliefs and impositions; and for no word however nobly sounding, and no
cause however just and pious, to relax the stricture of these bonds."

There was a silence of a moment.

"I fear, madam," resumed the prince, "that I but weary you. My views are
formal like myself; and like myself, they also begin to grow old. But I
must still trouble you for some reply."

"I can say but one thing," said Mrs. Desborough: "I love my husband."

"It is a good answer," returned the prince; "and you name a good
influence, but one that need not be conterminous with life."

"I will not play at pride with such a man as you," she answered. "What
do you ask of me? not protestations, I am sure. What shall I say? I have
done much that I cannot defend and that I would not do again. Can I say
more? Yes: I can say this: I never abused myself with the muddle-headed
fairy tales of politics. I was at least prepared to meet reprisals.
While I was levying war myself--or levying murder, if you choose the
plainer term--I never accused my adversaries of assassination. I never
felt or feigned a righteous horror, when a price was put upon my life by
those whom I attacked. I never called the policeman a hireling. I may
have been a criminal, in short; but I never was a fool."

"Enough, madam," returned the prince: "more than enough! Your words are
most reviving to my spirits; for in this