The old man drew himself up with a sudden impulse of pride. “The men of our house have been supposed to possess sufficient bravery for any occasion that might present itself. Convince me that these harsh truths should be spoken to the king, and I shall not shrink from the task.” “Then say this: King Louis, the days of despotism are at an end; the people have learned to think, and neither superstition nor all the traditions of power made manifest, in your prisons, your armies, or in the force of ancient usages can perpetuate the bondage in which they have been held. In order to make them loyal, make them free. Ask the nobility and the clergy to take their feet from the necks of the working-men; they want work, bread for their children, freedom from oppressive taxation; in short, they ask the king to acknowledge their manhood, for this they will surround his throne with a power stronger than the nobility which has undermined all its foundations ever gave.” Mirabeau was going on with increasing vehemence, when the door was opened by a servant, and Monsieur Jacques stood in the passage. The count held out his hands in cordial good-fellowship, that surprised the fastidious parent; who looked upon the good Jacques as little better than a servant; and had other prejudices against him; for in all the contests and troubles that had arisen between the son and father, Jacques had resolutely adhered to his foster-brother. “Well, what news, good brother? for I take it you have been gathering something from the people, since the business that I sent you about has been so entirely neglected,” said Mirabeau, good-humoredly. “Forgive me,” answered Jacques, bending low before the elder noble; “if I was unable to obey your wishes at the moment, it was from a reason that you will approve, and which I trust no one here will condemn. Count Mirabeau, I have seen the king.” “You, Jacques? Has his majesty been out hunting again, and wheeled his horse, rather than trample you under his hoofs?” “You will not believe me, but I have been at Versailles, and have talked with the king in his own work-shop.” “In his own work-shop?” exclaimed the old noble, holding up his two white hands in astonishment. “Jacques, you are getting crazy?” rejoined Mirabeau. “Almost,” replied Jacques, excitedly; “for I have not only seen the king, and uttered stern truths to him, face to face, but I have, so they tell me, though I can hardly comprehend it, saved the queen’s life.” “Anything else, Jacques?” cried the count, with a broad laugh. “This is a noble romance; perhaps you have taken the Bastille with a toasting-fork.” “But, I am speaking the truth.” The father and son looked at each other in questioning amazement; the man seemed so earnest, and so wounded by the half-scoffing unbelief with which his assertion had been received, that they began to put some trust in it. CHAPTER XXV. THE LINK WHICH CONNECTED MIRABEAU WITH THE COURT.