“And is not that precisely what we all do?” queried the King lightly; “Surely every monarch must count his friends among the members of the Government?” “But the Government does not represent the actual people, Sir!” said Ronsard quietly. “No? Then what does it represent?” enquired the King, becoming amused and interested in the discussion, and holding up his hand to warn back De Launay, and the other members of his suite who were just coming towards him from their tour of inspection through the garden--“Every member of the Government is elected by the people, and returned by the popular vote. What else would you have?” “Ministers have not always the popular vote,” said Ronsard; “They are selected by the Premier. And if the Premier should happen to be shifty, treacherous or self-interested, he chooses such men as are most likely to serve his own ends. And it can hardly be said, Sir, that the People truly return the members of Government. For when the time comes for one such man to be elected, each candidate secures his own agent to bribe the people, and to work upon them as though they were so much soft dough, to be kneaded into a political loaf for his private and particular eating. Poor People! Poor hard-working millions! In the main they are all too busy earning the wherewithal to Live, to have any time left to Think--they are the easy prey of the party agent, except--except when they gather to the voice of a real leader, one who though not in Government, governs!” “And is there such an one?” enquired the King, while as he spoke his glance fell suddenly, and with an unpleasant memory, on the flashing blue of the sapphire in the Premier’s signet he wore; “Here, or anywhere?” “Over there!” said Ronsard impressively, pointing across the landscape seawards; “On the mainland there is not only one, but many! Women,--as well as men. Writers,--as well as speakers. These are they whom Courts neglect or ignore,--these are the consuming fire of thrones!” His old eyes flashed, and as he turned them on the statuesque beauty of the Queen, she started, for they seemed to pierce into the very recesses of her soul. “When Court and Fashion played their pranks once upon a time in France, there was a pen at work on the ‘_Contrat Social_’--the pen of one Rousseau! Who among the idle pleasure-loving aristocrats ever thought that a mere Book would have helped to send them to the scaffold!” He clenched his hand almost unconsciously--then he spoke more quietly. “That is what I mean, when I say that if I were ruler of a country, I should take special care to make friends with the people’s chosen thinkers. Someone in authority”--and here he smiled quizzically--“should have given Rousseau an estate, and made him a marquis--_in time_! The leaders of an advancing Thought,--and not the leaders of a fixed Government are the real representatives of the People!” Something in this last sentence appeared to strike the King very forcibly.