because monarchy, with its cruel hand of iron, mistrusts us, brutalizes
us."

He did not see enlightenment come into the half-drunken eyes of Dyck. He
only realized that Dyck was very still, and strangely, deeply interested.

"I tell you, Calhoun, we need in Ireland something of the spirit that's
alive in France to-day. They've cleaned out the kings--Louis's and
Marie's heads have dropped into the basket. They're sweeping the dirt
out of France; they're cleaning the dark places; they're whitewashing
Versailles and sawdusting the Tuileries; they're purging the aristocratic
guts of France; they're starting for the world a reformation which will
make it clean. Not America alone, but England, and all Europe, will
become republics."

"England?" asked Dyck in a low, penetrating voice. "Aye, England,
through Ireland. Ireland will come first, then Wales, Scotland, and
England. Dear lad, the great day is come--the greatest the world has
ever known. France, the spirit of it, is alive. It will purge and
cleanse the universe!"

The suspicious, alert look passed from Dyck's eyes, but his face had
become flushed. He reached out and poured himself another glass of wine.

"What you say may be true, Boyne. It may be true, but I wouldn't put
faith in it--not for one icy minute. I don't want to see here in Ireland
the horrors and savagery of France. I don't want to see the guillotine
up on St. Stephen's Green."

Boyne felt that he must march carefully. He was sure of his game; but