"No, it is not a fine word; it is a terrible one. Perhaps we are nearer to the thing itself than we think; but I grieve to say to you, Madame, that I do not believe that God reserves to your royal son the dangerous honor of muzzling the popular lion." "Why not, monsieur?" "Because it is he whom that lion most distrusts. The moment it sees him approaching in the distance, the lion shakes his mane, sharpens his teeth and claws, and will suffer him to come nearer only for the purpose of springing upon him. No one could be the grandson of Louis XVI. with impunity, Madame." "Then, according to you, the Bourbon dynasty has seen its last days." "God grant that such an idea may never come to me, Madame. What I mean is that revolutions never go backward; I believe that if they once come to birth it is best not to stop their development. It is attempting the impossible; it is like trying to drive a mountain torrent backward to its source. Either our present revolution will be fruitful of national good,--in which case, Madame, I know the patriotism of your feelings too well not to be sure you would accept it,--or it will be a barren failure, and then the faults of those who have seized the sovereign power will serve your son far better than all our efforts could." "But, in that case, monsieur, things may go on thus to the end of time." "Madame, his Majesty Henri V. is a principle, and principles share with God the privilege of having their kingdom in eternity." "Therefore, it is your opinion that I ought to renounce my present hopes, abandon my compromised friends, and three days hence, when they take up arms, leave them in the lurch and justify the man who tells them, 'Marie-Caroline, for whom you are ready to fight, for whom you are ready to die, despairs of her prospects and recoils at fate; Marie-Caroline is afraid.' Oh, no; never, never, never, monsieur!" "Your friends will not be able to make you that reproach, Madame, for they will not take arms, as you suppose, a few days hence." "Are you ignorant that the day is fixed for the 24th?" "The order is countermanded." "Countermanded!" cried the duchess; "when?" "To-day." "To-day!" she exclaimed, lifting herself up by her wrists. "By whom?" "By the man you yourself commanded them to obey." "The maréchal?" "The maréchal, following the instructions of the committee in Paris." "But," cried the duchess, "am I to be of no account?" "You, Madame!" exclaimed the messenger, falling on one knee and clasping his hands,--"you are all. That is why we seek your safety; it is why we will not let you be sacrificed in a useless effort; that is why we fear to let you risk your popularity by a defeat." "Monsieur, monsieur," said the duchess, "if Maria Theresa's counsellors had been as timid as mine she would never have re-conquered the throne of her son."