“Yet the mob often wins,--not only by excess of numbers, but by sheer force of--honesty!”--said Bernhoff sententiously; “It has been known to sweep away, and re-make political constitutions before now.” “It has,”--agreed Pérousse, drawing pens and paper towards him, and feigning to be busily occupied in the commencement of a letter--“But it will not indulge itself in such amusements during _my_ time!” “Ah! I wonder how long your time will last!” muttered Bernhoff to himself as he withdrew--“Six months or six days? I would not bet on the longer period!” In good truth there was considerable reason for the General’s dubious outlook on affairs. A political storm was brewing. A heavy tidal wave of discontent was sweeping the masses of the people stormily against the rocks of existing authority, and loud and bitter and incessant were the complaints on all sides against the increased taxation levied upon every rate-payer. Fiercest of all was the clamour made by the poor at the increasing price of bread, the chief necessity of life; for the imposition of a heavy duty upon wheat and other cereals had made the common loaf of the peasant’s daily fare almost an article of luxury. Stormy meetings were held in every quarter of the city,--protests were drawn up and signed by thousands,--endless petitions were handed to the King,--but no practical result came from these. His Majesty was ‘graciously pleased’ to seem blind, deaf and wholly indifferent to the agitated condition of his subjects. Now and then a Government orator would mount the political rostrum and talk ‘patriotism’ for an hour or so, to a more or less sullen audience, informing them with much high-flown eloquence that, by responding to the Governmental demands and supporting the Governmental measures, they were strengthening the resources of the country and completing the efficiency of both Army and Navy; but somehow, his hydraulic efforts at rousing the popular enthusiasm failed of effect. Whereas, whenever Sergius Thord spoke, thousands of throats roared acclamation,--and the very sight of Lotys passing quietly down the poorer thoroughfares of the city was sufficient to bring out groups of men and women to their doors, waving their hands to her, sending her wild kisses,--and almost kneeling before her in an ecstasy of trust and adoration. Thord himself perceived that the situation was rapidly reaching a climax, and quietly prepared himself to meet and cope with it. Two of the monthly business meetings of the Revolutionary Committee had been held since that on which Pasquin Leroy and his two friends had been enrolled as members of the Brotherhood, and at the last of these, Thord took Leroy into his full confidence, and gave him all the secret clues of the Revolutionary organization which honeycombed the metropolis from end to end. He had trusted the man in many ways and found him honest. One trifling proof of this was perhaps