"Are you sure of this?" asked d'Harcourt, who, probably for the first time in his life, said any thing reasonable. This was a doubt, almost a defection to that cause into which his generous and enthusiastic nature had cast him. René d'Harcourt had originally formed but a passing intimacy with Monte-Leone, the object of which was pleasure alone. The latter, however, soon discovered his friend's courage and truth, and ultimately initiated him in all his political mysteries and dreams. D'Harcourt, attracted by the occult power exerted by the Count over his associates, and led astray to a degree by his specious theories in relation to national happiness, which Monte-Leone knew how to dress so well in the most energetic language, was carried away by the temptation of becoming a political personage; perhaps, also, as la Felina said at the Etruscan villa, not a little under the influence of idleness, and the wish to be able to tell wonders of himself, joined in all these plots. He had become affiliated to the society of which Monte-Leone was the chief, and when he was expelled from Italy, represented himself to his particular friends as a martyr of political faith: he had, by the by, a very faint confidence in it, and cared very little about it; and this, even, was insensibly lessened when, on his return to France and his family, he saw the high distinction which his father enjoyed, and was aware that by rank and birth he would one day be called on to play a conspicuous part in the history of his country. He could not understand, therefore, how this country could demand a general convulsion to obtain a hypothetical better, in place of a positive good. This, as we have said, was the state of his mind, when Monte-Leone, Taddeo, and Frederick returned to Paris. They talked to him of his oaths, of the pledge they had taken, of his position as a _Carbonaro_,--to which he would make no reply. The Viscount a second time falling under the influence of Monte-Leone, captivated again by the charms of friendship, and the glory of being the regenerator of his country, fancied himself also bound by his honor to pursue the path on which he had entered. He therefore resumed his old chains, and became the SEIDE of a cause to which he was attracted neither by sympathy nor by reason. The phrase which had escaped from the lips, or rather the good sense of the young man, sounded to Monte-Leone like a false note in a chorus. He said, "René, God forbid that we should seek to link you to our fate if you do not believe in our cause. Remain inactive in the strife about to ensue; your honor will be a sufficient pledge for your silence in relation to our secrets. Henceforth be a brother to us only in love. Von Apsberg, the grand archivest of the association, will efface your name from our list; and whatever misfortune befall us, I shall at least have the satisfaction of knowing that you were not involved in our ruin."