Observe, that I do no treason in repeating to you whatever this young man said in my hearing; for he assured me the first time I ever saw him, that he knew me to be "_une absolutiste enragée_;" but that, so far from fearing to speak freely before me, there was nothing that would give him so much pleasure as believing that I should publish every word he uttered on the subject of politics. I told him in return, that if I did so, it should be without mentioning his name; for that I should be truly sorry to hear that he had been consigned to Ste. Pélagie as a rebel on my evidence. So we understand each other perfectly. On the morning in question, he began talking gaily and gallantly concerning the pleasures of Paris, and expressed his hope that we were taking care to profit by the present interval of public tranquillity. "Is this interval of calm likely to be followed by a storm?" said one of the party. "Mais ... que sais-je?... The weather is so fine now, you know.... And the opera? en vérité, c'est superbe!... Have you seen it yet?" "Seen what?" "Eh! mais, 'La Juive'! ... à présent il n'y a que cela au monde.... You read the journals?" "Yes; Galignani's at least." "Ah! ah!" said he, laughing; "c'est assez pour vous autres." "Is there any interesting news to-day in any of the papers?" "Intéressante? ... mais, oui ... assez.... Cependant...." And then again he rattled on about plays, balls, concerts, and I know not what. "I wish you would tell me," said I, interrupting him, "whether you think, that in case any popular movement should occur, the English would be molested, or in any way annoyed." "Non, madame--je ne le crois pas--surtout les femmes. Cependant, si j'étais vous, Madame Trollope, je me donnerai pour le moment le nom d'O'Connell." "And that, you think, would be accepted as a passport through any scene of treason and rebellion?" said I. He laughed again, and said that was not exactly what he meant; but that O'Connell was a name revered in France as well as at Rome, and might very likely belong one day or other to a pope, if his generous wishes for an Irish republic were too dear to his heart to permit him ever to accept the title of king. "An Irish republic? ... perhaps that is just what is wanted," said I. But not wishing to enter into any discussion on the niceties of speech, I waived the compliments he began to pay me on this liberal sentiment, and again asked him if he thought anything was going on amongst the friends of the prisoners that might impede the course of justice. Though not aware of the quibble with which I had replied to him, he answered me by another, saying with energy-- "No! ... never!... They will never do anything to impede the course of justice." "Will they do anything to assist it?" said I. He sprang from his chair, gave a bound across the room, as if to hide his glee by looking out of the window, and when he showed his face again, said with much solemnity--"They will do their duty."