"Still that old folly of Marini's!" cried Merthyr, almost wrathfully. He
had some of the English objection to the mixing-up of women in political
matters.

Georgiana instantly addressed herself to it: "He thinks that the country
must be saved by its women as well as its men; and if they have not
brains and steadfast devotion, he concludes that the country will not be
saved. But he gives them their share of the work; and, dearest, has he
had reason to repent it?"

"No," Merthyr was forced to admit--taking shelter in his antipathy to the
administration of an oath to women. And consider that this is a girl!"

"The oaths of girls are sometimes more binding on them than the oaths of
women."

"True, it affects their imaginations vividly; but it seems childish.
Does she have to kiss a sword and a book?"

Merthyr made a gesture like a shrug, with a desponding grimace.

"You know," answered Georgiana, smiling, "that I was excused any formula,
by special exemption. I have no idea of what is done. Water, salt,
white thorns, and other Carbonaro mysteries may be in use or not: I think
no worse of the cause, whatever is done."

"I love the cause," said Merthyr. "I dislike this sort of conspiratorial
masque Marini and his Chief indulge in. I believe it sustains them, and
there's its only use."