“A civil war, I suppose,” cried Frank, quietly; “but the troops will always give them a lesson.” “Do you think so, my dear young friend?” said the Abbé, affectionately; “do you not rather think that soldiers will begin to learn that they are citizens, and that, when forging fetters for others, the metal can be fashioned into chains for themselves?” “But they have an oath,” said the boy; “they 've sworn to their allegiance.” “Very true, so they have; but what is the oath?--the one half of the compact which cannot be supposed binding when the other half be broken. Let the social policy of a government fail in its great object,----the happiness of a people; let a whole nation gradually cease to enjoy the advantages for the sake of which they assumed the responsibilities and ties of family; let them day-by-day fall lower in the scale of civilization and comfort, and after surrendering this privilege to-day, and that to-morrow, at last take their stand on the very verge of the precipice, with nothing but abject slavery beneath,--what would you say of the order to charge them with the bayonet, even though the formality of a recruiting oath should seem to warrant the obedience?” “I 'd do it; if I was ordered,” said Frank, sternly. “I don't think you would,” said D'Esmonde, smiling. “I read your nature differently. I can trace, even in the flashing of your eye this instant, the ambition of a bold and energetic spirit, and that when the moment came you would embrace the losing cause, with all its perils, rather than stand by tyranny, in all its strength. Besides, remember, this is not the compact under which you entered the service, although it might, under certain peculiar circumstances, appeal to your sense of duty. An army is not--at least it ought not to be--a 'gendarmerie.' Go forth to battle against the enemies of your country, carry the flag of your Vaterland into the plains of France, plant the double eagle once more in the Place da Carrousel,--even aggressive war has its glorious compensations in deeds of chivalry and heroism----But here is the Princesse,” said the Abbé, rising, and advancing courteously towards her. “The Abbé D'Esmonde!” cried Kate, with an expression of delight, as she held ont her hand, which the priest pressed to his lips with all the gallantry of a courtier. “How pleasant to see the face of a friend in this strange land!” said she. “Abbé, this is my brother Frank, of whom you have heard me talk so often.” “We are acquaintances already,” said D'Esmonde, passing his arm within the soldier's; “and albeit our coats are not of the same color, I think many of our principles are.” A few moments saw him seated between the brother and sister on the sofa, recounting the circumstances of his journey, and detailing, for Kate's amusement, the latest news of Florence.