withdrew to a settee against the wall.

"You know I am a Liberal, and have always been a Liberal," said the
baron; "I know the value of civil and religious liberty, for I was
born in a country where we had neither, and where we have since enjoyed
either very fitfully. Nothing can be much drearier than the present lot
of my country, and it is probable that these doings at Paris may help my
friends a little, and they may again hold up their heads for a time; but
I have seen too much, and am too old, to indulge in dreams. You are a
young man and will live to see what I can only predict. The world is
thinking of something else than civil and religious liberty. Those are
phrases of the eighteenth century. The men who have won these 'three
glorious days' at Paris, want neither civilisation nor religion. They
will not be content till they have destroyed both. It is possible that
they may be parried for a time; that the adroit wisdom of the house of
Orleans, guided by Talleyrand, may give this movement the resemblance,
and even the character, of a middle-class revolution. It is no such
thing; the barricades were not erected by the middle class. I know these
people; it is a fraternity, not a nation. Europe is honeycombed with
their secret societies. They are spread all over Spain. Italy is
entirely mined. I know more of the southern than the northern nations;
but I have been assured by one who should know that the brotherhood are
organised throughout Germany and even in Russia. I have spoken to
the Duke about these things. He is not indifferent, or altogether
incredulous, but he is so essentially practical that he can only deal
with what he sees. I have spoken to the Whig leaders. They tell me that
there is only one specific, and that a complete one--constitutional
government; that with representative institutions, secret societies
cannot co-exist. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that with these
secret societies representative institutions rather will disappear."