The coachman turned his head slowly and with difficulty, until he commanded a full view of Vaughan’s pretty neighbour; at whom he gazed for some seconds as if fascinated. Then he turned to his horses and relieved his feelings by hitting one of the wheelers below the trace; while Vaughan, willing to hear what the Frenchman had to say, took up the talk. “Perhaps here,” he said, “those who have will give, and give enough, and all will go well.” “Nefer! Nefer!” the Frenchman answered positively. “By example, the Duke whose château we pass—what you call it—Jerusalem House?” “Sion House,” Vaughan answered, smiling. “The Duke of Northumberland.” “By example he return four members to your Commons House. Is it not so? And they do what he tell them. He have this for his nefew, and that for his niece, and the other thing for his _maître d’hôtel!_ And it is he and the others like him who rule the country! Gives he up all that? To the _bourgeoisie?_ Nefer! Nefer!” he continued with emphasis. “He will be the Polignac! They will all be the Polignacs! And you will have a refolution. And by-and-by, when the _bourgeoisie_ is frightened of the _canaille_ and tired of the blood-letting, your Vellington he will be the Emperor. It is as plain as the two eyes in the face! So plain for me, I shall not take off my clothes the nights!” “Well, King Billy for me!” said the driver. “But if he’s willing, Mounseer, why shouldn’t the people manage their own affairs?” “The people! The people! They cannot! Your horses, will they govern themselves? Will you throw down the reins and leave it to them, up hill, down hill? The people govern themselves Bah!” And to express his extreme disgust at the proposition, the Frenchman, who had lost his all with Polignac, bent over the side and spat into the road. “It is no government at all!” The driver looked darkly at his horses as if he would like to see them try it on. “I am afraid,” said Vaughan, “that you think we are in trouble either way then, whether the Tories give or withhold?” “Eizer way! Eizer way!” the Frenchman answered _con amore_. “It is fate! You are on the edge of the what you call it—_chute!_ And you must go over! We have gone over. We have bumped once, twice! We shall bump once, twice more, _et voilà_—Anarchy! Now it is your turn, sir. The government has to be—shifted—from the one class to the other!” “But it may be peacefully shifted?” The little Frenchman shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “I have nefer seen the government shifted without all that that I have told you. There will be the guillotine, or the barricades. For me, I shall not take off my clothes the nights!” He spoke with a sincerity so real and a persuasion so clear that even Vaughan was a little shaken, and wondered if those who watched the game from the outside saw more than the players. As for the coachman: