Fairfax, however, it must be owned, was as much puzzled as Spears. What was it, that had caused the change? It was not much more than a month since Paul’s devotion to Spears and his scheme had kept him from his father’s death-bed. He had been intent then on giving up his whole life to the creed which this evening he had publicly contradicted in the face of its excited supporters. Fairfax could not make out what it meant any more than the deserted demagogue could. If Paul, indeed, had reached the high top-gallant of his fortunes--if he had held the control of a large property in his hands--a position like that of a prince--there might have been reason in such a change of faith. Though it gave a certain foundation for Spears’s bitter sneer, yet there was reason in it. A young man might very well be justified in abandoning the society of revolutionaries, when he himself entered the ranks of those who are responsible for the safety of the country and have a great deal to lose. But he did not understand Paul’s position now, and a change so singular bewildered him. It was not, however, either necessary or expedient to enter into that question; and he addressed himself with more satisfaction to rubbing the injured ankle. He had asked the woman who admitted them, and who was in great terror of “the meeting,” to get a cab, but had been answered that she dared not leave the house, and that they must not think of leaving the house till all was over in the “Hall.” It was not a cheerful prospect. To his surprise, however, Paul showed less impatience than he did. He was full of the place and the discussion they had just left. “He is no fool,” Paul said, “that is the most wonderful of all. A man may go on telling a pack of lies for years, and yet be as true in himself as all the rest is false. I understand your looks, Fairfax. You think I have gone as far as most men.” “Keep your foot still, my good fellow,” was all Fairfax said. “That is all very well; you want an explanation of my conduct,” said Paul. “You want to know what this inconsistency means; for it is inconsistency. Well, then, there’s just this, that I don’t mean to tell. I am as free as another man to form my own opinions, I hope.” “Hark! they’re cheering again,” said Fairfax. “What fellows they are to cheer! He has got them into a good humour. They looked savage enough half an hour ago. It’s a little absurd, isn’t it, that you and I, Paul, who have been considered very advanced in our political opinions, should be in a kind of hiding here?” “Hiding! I will go back at once and make my profession of faith,” cried Paul; but when he sprang up to carry out his intention, the pain of his foot overpowered him. “Have I sprained it, do you think?--that is an affair of four or five weeks,” he said, with a look of dismay.