'Turbulent! A pack of boys! What does not exist cannot be destroyed. A Commons chosen by the people who hold thereby the strings of the public purse--that is the first principle of a constitution. The sham you prate about is, as you know right well, deluged with corruption, flooded with iniquity, a mere puppet in your hands, Lord Clare. How sad it is that the vital interests of millions should be sacrificed to the vices of an individual! You, and such as you, who have risen from small things to a place in the Upper House, should unite the nobles and the people instead of trying to estrange them. But no, you think of none except yourself. Erin is divided between the slaves of your dominion, the servants of your patronage, the enemies of your tyranny. Your ambition will wreck us all. Your monument shall be the execration of your motherland--the curse of a ruined race your requiem!' Lord Clare's impudent leer was doing its work, for Curran, with every moment, grew more chafed. 'Really, our friend is quite amusing!' exclaimed the chancellor, pleasantly. 'Your ladyship's jester assumes all the license which custom accords to such persons. I confess that his exuberance bears me down, for the art of managing foolish people is as distinct and arduous as that of governing lunatics.' 'Whenever I see a man treat the world as if it were made of fools,' sneered Curran, 'I suspect him instantly to be a knave.' 'Very pretty!' laughed the other. 'Parliament, my good fellow----' 'Parliament!' echoed his foe. 'You are always ringing the changes on parliament and constitution in a jangle that means nothing. Your parliament has as much to do with the country as a corpse with a crowner's quest. The rulers of this unhappy land have played bowls with the constitution. Our experience of government is through the vices of its shifting plunderers, instead of the paternal protection of its sovereign--harpies who encamp awhile, then retire laden with spoil--all save one, who, to our grief, is bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh. That one, my lord, is splendid indeed--by the grandeur of his infamy--for he never knew shame or decency or conscience! He is double-faced; a traitor to that which he should love most in all the world. He degrades his talent to the vilest uses, and invents sham dangers to hide real ones. Like the sailor who, to possess himself of a bag of money, tossed a burning brand into the hold, he cries "Fire, fire!" to divert attention from himself.' 'Really, really, my lady!' laughed the chancellor, with constraint, 'your jester improves daily. He wallows in imagery as the swine in mire. My good fellow, I fail to follow your meanderings, though I seem to apprehend that you are cross about these arrests? I have naught to do with them--will you be more comfortable if I swear it?--but I must admit, while doing so, that I am no advocate for ill-judged leniency.'