He looked rather ashamed of himself, I thought, when he had concluded his tirade,--and well he might: but there was such a hideous tone of prophecy in this, that I actually trembled as I listened to him, and, all jesting apart, thoughts of passports to be signed and conveyances to be hired were arranging themselves very seriously in my brain. But before we went out for the evening, all these gloomy meditations were most agreeably dispersed by a visit from a staid old doctrinaire, who was not only a soberer politician, but one considerably more likely to know what he was talking about than the youth who had harangued us in the morning. Anxious to have my fears either confirmed or removed, I hastened to tell him, half in jest, half in earnest, that we were beginning to think of taking an abrupt leave of Paris. "And why?" said he. I stated very seriously my newly-awakened fears; at which he laughed heartily, and with an air of such unfeigned amusement, that I was cured at once. "Whom can you have been listening to?" said he. "I will not give up my authority," I replied with proper diplomatic discretion; "but I will tell you exactly what a gentleman who has been here this morning has been saying to us." And I did so precisely as I have repeated it to you; upon which he laughed more heartily than before, and rubbing his hands as if perfectly delighted, he exclaimed, "Delicious! And you really have been fortunate enough to fall in with one of these _enfans perdus_? I really wish you joy. But do not set off immediately: listen first to another view of the case." I assured him that this was exactly what I wished to do, and very truly declared that he could do me no greater favour than to put me _au fait_ of the real state of affairs. "Willingly will I do so," said he; "and be assured I will not deceive you." Whereupon I closed the _croisée_, that no rattling wheels might disturb us, and prepared to listen. "My good lady," he began with great kindness, "soyez tranquille. There is no more danger of revolution at this time in France than there is in Russia. Louis-Philippe is adored; the laws are respected; order is universally established; and if there be a sentiment of discontent or a feeling approaching to irritation among any deserving the name of Frenchmen, it is against these miserable _vauriens_, who still cherish the wild hope of disturbing our peace and our prosperity. But fear nothing: trust me, the number of these is too small to make it worth while to count them." You will believe I heard this with sincere satisfaction; and I really felt very grateful, both for the information, and the friendly manner in which it was given. "I rejoice to hear this," said I: "but may I, as a matter of curiosity, ask you what you think about this famous trial? How do you think it will end?" "As all trials ought to end," he replied: "by bringing all such as are found guilty to punishment."