"My dear Philippe, I exist to serve you. I warn you that it is a
futile quest; but give me leave to finish my breakfast, and I am
at your orders."

M. de Vilmorin dropped into a winged armchair by the well-swept
hearth, on which a piled-up fire of pine logs was burning cheerily.
And whilst he waited now he gave his friend the latest news of the
events in Rennes. Young, ardent, enthusiastic, and inspired by
Utopian ideals, he passionately denounced the rebellious attitude
of the privileged.

Andre-Louis, already fully aware of the trend of feeling in the
ranks of an order in whose deliberations he took part as the
representative of a nobleman, was not at all surprised by what he
heard. M. de Vilmorin found it exasperating that his friend should
apparently decline to share his own indignation.

"Don't you see what it means?" he cried. "The nobles, by disobeying
the King, are striking at the very foundations of the throne. Don't
they perceive that their very existence depends upon it; that if the
throne falls over, it is they who stand nearest to it who will be
crushed? Don't they see that?"

"Evidently not. They are just governing classes, and I never heard
of governing classes that had eyes for anything but their own profit."

"That is our grievance. That is what we are going to change."

"You are going to abolish governing classes? An interesting