“Flourish, indeed!” sighed Tony; “it's the only thing does flourish in poor Ireland. Tell me, Sam, has the Court been brilliant lately?” “We gave two dinners last week--plain dress--bags and swords!” “And who were the company?” “Loftus, Lodge, and Morris, Skeffington, Langrishe, and others--Boyle Roche, the Usher-in-waiting. On Friday, we had Rowley, Charlemont--” “Lord Charlemont,--did he dine with the Viceroy on Friday last?” “Yes, sir; and it was the first time we have asked him since the Mutiny Bill!” “This is indeed strange, Sam; I scarcely thought he was on such terms with the Court!” “We forgive and forget, sir,--we forgive and forget,” said Sam, waving his hand with dignity. “There was young Carew also.” “Walter Carew, the member for Wicklow?” “The same--took in Lady Charlotte Carteret--sat next to her Grace, and spoken to frequently--French wife--much noticed!” “Is he one of the new converts, then?” asked Fagan, slowly; “is he about to change the color of his coat?” “A deep claret, with diamond buttons, jabot, and ruffles, Mechlin lace--” “And the Duke, you say, spoke much with him?” “Repeatedly.” “They talked of politics?” “We talked of everything.” “And in terms of agreement too?” “Not about artichokes. Carew likes them in oil,--we always prefer butter.” “That is a most important difference of opinion,” said Tony, with a sneer. “We thought nothing of it,” said the other, with an air of dignity; “for shortly after, we accepted an invitation to go down to Castle Carew for a week.” “To spend a week at Castle Carew?” “A half state visit.” “With all the tagrag and bobtail of a Court,--the lazy drones of pageantry, the men of painted coats and patched characters, the women painted too, but beyond the art of patching for a reputation.” “No, in half state,” replied Cotterell, calmly, and not either heeding or attending to this passionate outburst,--“two aides-de-camp; Mr. Barrold, private secretary; Sir George Gore; and about thirty servants.” “Thirty thieves in state livery,--thirty bandits in silk stockings and powder!” “We have made mutual concessions, and shall, I doubt not, be good friends,” continued Sam, only thinking of what he said himself. “Carew is to give our state policy a fair trial, and we are to taste the artichokes with oil. His Grace proposed the contract, and then proposed the visit.” A deep groan of angry indignation was all that Tony could utter in reply. “And this same visit,” said he, at last, “when is it to take place?” “Next week; for the present we have much on our hands. We open Parliament to-morrow; Wednesday, grand dinner to peers and peeresses; Thursday, the judges and law officers; Friday, debate on the address--small party of friends; Saturday we go to the play in state,--we like the play.” “You do, do you?” said the Grinder, with a grin of malice, as some vindictive feeling worked within him. “We have commanded 'The Road to Ruin,'” continued Cotterell.