parent who is watching the naturally cruel antics of a spoilt boy.

"Then from this hell let loose upon earth," exclaimed St. Just
hotly, "must we rescue those who refuse to ride upon this tide of
blood."

His cheeks were glowing, his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. He
looked very young and very eager. Armand St. Just, the brother of
Lady Blakeney, had something of the refined beauty of his lovely
sister, but the features though manly--had not the latent strength
expressed in them which characterised every line of Marguerite's
exquisite face. The forehead suggested a dreamer rather than a
thinker, the blue-grey eyes were those of an idealist rather than
of a man of action.

De Batz's keen piercing eyes had no doubt noted this, even whilst
he gazed at his young friend with that same look of good-humoured
indulgence which seemed habitual to him.

"We have to think of the future, my good St. Just," he said after
a slight pause, and speaking slowly and decisively, like a father
rebuking a hot-headed child, "not of the present. What are a few
lives worth beside the great principles which we have at stake?"

"The restoration of the monarchy--I know," retorted St. Just,
still unsobered, "but, in the meanwhile--"

"In the meanwhile," rejoined de Batz earnestly, "every victim to
the lust of these men is a step towards the restoration of law and
order--that is to say, of the monarchy. It is only through these