Count Mirabeau saw all this, as only a man of quick intellect and insatiable vanity can observe. He soon discovered that the surroundings of these two women were far inferior to the rank to which they were entitled—and this both inspired and surprised him. In his own person he blended so much of the extremes of social life—coarse strength with vivid imagination, pride of birth and pride of humanity—that a wild sympathy for these two persons awoke almost to a passion in his nature at the first sight. They were refined, delicate, sensitive, yet still of the people, suffering with them, and, to a certain extent, feeling with them. If Count Mirabeau had any fixed ideas at this time, they were vague and incomplete, shifting and changing with the current of public opinion, which was firm only to one fixed point, a concentration of power in the people. Mirabeau had watched the storm rising, which was to devastate all France, with the interest of a man born to lead in tempests. How the whirlwind, which he saw gathering, might rage, he, probably, had no idea. Events rush forward in revolutions with a force that defies individual strength; but he was a man to seize upon every means of power as they presented themselves; and even now, with that lovely girl and the stately woman before him, he was calculating how far they might be made available to his ambition. After a little, Mirabeau arose, and, with a graceful reverence, such as he might have denied to a queen, left the room; begging permission to call again when he might have the happiness to be of service to the ladies. Monsieur Jacques followed him, looking proudly back upon his friends. “How strange, how grand, how ugly!” said Marguerite, drawing a deep breath as the door closed. “Oh! if kings were like him, we should not plead in vain!” Madame Gosner answered with less emotion. She was wondering if this man, who seemed both of the court and the people, would be able to aid her in the one great wish of her life. If he had that power, she was ready to become his slave. CHAPTER IX. COUNT DE MIRABEAU AND MONSIEUR JACQUES. Mirabeau and Monsieur Jacques went to a neighboring chamber and sat down together; for, strange as the contrast was between them, they were foster-brothers, and a stronger tie than that of absolute kinship existed between them. “Well, Jacques, where did you find these people? Who are they?” inquired the count, flinging himself into a chair, and reaching forth his hand for that of his foster-brother. “The demoiselle is beautiful. It is a sin to find her here.” Jacques gave a succinct account of his acquaintance with the mother and daughter, and repeated, word for word, the conversation he had held with them that evening.