“Here in The Islands there was the same discontent when I first came. Every man was in heart a Socialist,--every young boy was a budding Anarchist. Wild ideas fired their brains. They sought Equality. No man should be richer than another, they said. Equal lots,--equal lives. They had their own secret Society, connected with another similar one across the sea yonder. They were brave, clever and desperate,--moved by a burning sense of wrong,--wrong which they had not the skill to explain, but which they felt. It was difficult to persuade or soothe such men, for they were men of Nature,--not of Shams. But fierce and obstinate as they were, they were good to me when I was cast up for dead on their seashore. And I, in turn, have tried to be good to them. That is, I have tried to make them happy. For happiness is what we all work for and seek for,--from the beginning to the end of life. We go far afield for it, when it oftener lies at our very doors. Well!--they are a peaceful community now, and have no evil intentions towards anyone. They grudge no one his wealth--I think if the truth were known, they rather pity the rich man than envy him. So, at any rate, I have taught them to do. But, formerly, they were, to say the least of it, dangerous!” The King heard in silence, although the slightest quizzical lifting of his eyebrows appeared to imply that ‘dangerous’ was perhaps too strong a term by which to designate a handful of Socialistic coral-fishers. “It is curious,” went on Ronsard slowly, “how soon the sense of wrong and injustice infects a whole community. One malcontent makes a host of malcontents. This is a fact which many governments lose sight of. If I were the ruler of a country--” Here he suddenly paused--then added with a touch of brusqueness-- “Pardon me, Sir; I have never known the formalities which apply to conversation with a king, and I am too old to learn now. No doubt I speak too boldly! To me you are no more than man; you should be more by etiquette--but by simple humanity you are not!” The King smiled, well pleased. This independent commoner, with his rough garb and rougher simplicity of speech, was a refreshing contrast to the obsequious personages by whom he was generally surrounded; and he felt an irresistible desire to know more of the life and surroundings of one who had gained a position of evident authority among the people of his own class. “Go on, my friend!” he said. “Honest expression of thought can offend none but knaves and fools; and though there are some who say I have a smack of both, yet I flatter myself I am wholly neither of the twain! Continue what you were saying--if you were ruler of a country, what would you do?” Réné Ronsard considered for a moment, and his furrowed brows set in a puzzled line. “I think,” he said slowly, at last, “I should choose my friends and confidants among the leaders of the people.”