"I shall tell him," she replied.

Savrola laughed softly. "Oh no," he said, "that would not be fair.'

"All's fair in love and war."

"Is both," she said, and then burst into tears.

After that they went down-stairs. Savrola helped her into the carriage. "Good-night," he said, though it was already morning, “and good-bye."

But Lucile, not knowing what to say or think or do, continued to cry inconsolably and the carriage drove away. Savrola closed the door and returned to his room. He did not feel his secret was in any danger.

CHAPTER XII.

A COUNCIL OF WAR.

SAVROLA had scarcely time to smoke a cigarette before the Revolutionary leaders began to arrive. Moret was the first; he rang the bell violently, stamping about on the doorstep till it was answered, ran upstairs three steps at a time, and burst impetuously into the room, aquiver with excitement.

Ah," he cried, "the hour has come, -not words but deeds now! We draw the sword in a good cause; for my part I shall fling away the scabbard; Fortune is on our side."

"Yes," said Savrola; "have some whisky and soda-water, -on the sideboard there. It is a good drink to draw the sword on, the best in fact."

Moret somewhat abashed turned and walking to the table began opening a soda-water bottle. As he poured out the spirit the clinking of glass and bottle betrayed his agi

tation.

Savrola laughed softly.

"I

Turning swiftly, his impetuous follower sought to hide his agitation by a fresh outburst. have told you throughout," he said, holding his glass on high, "that force was the only solution. It has come, as I predicted. I drink to it, war, civil war, battle, murder, and sudden death,- by these means liberty will be regained!"

rettes have.

"Wonderful soothing effect these cigaThere's no opium in them either, soft, fresh Egyptians. I get them every week from Cairo. A little, old man I met there three years ago makes them,Abdullah Rachouan."

He held out the box. Moret took one; the business of lighting it steadied him; he sat down and began to smoke furiously. Savrola watched him in dreamy calmness, looking often at the smoke-wreathes that rose about him. Presently he spoke. "So you are glad there is to be war and that people are to be killed?"

"I am glad that this tyranny is to be ended."

"Remember that we pay for every pleasure and every triumph we have in this world." "I will take my chance."

"I trust, I would be glad if I could say with conviction, I pray, that the lot may not fall on you. But it is true nevertheless that we must pay, and for all the good things in life men pay in advance. The principles of sound finance apply."

"How do you mean?" asked Moret.

"Would you rise in the world? You must work while others amuse themselves. Are you desirous of a reputation for courage? You must risk your life. Would you be strong morally or physically? You must resist temptations. All this is paying in advance; that is prospective finance. Observe the other side of the picture; the bad things are paid for afterwards."

"Not always."

66

'Yes, as surely as the headache of Sunday morning follows the debauch of Saturday night, as an idle youth is requited by a barren age, as a gluttonous appetite promotes an ungainly paunch."

"And you think I shall have to pay for this excitement and enthusiasm ? You think I have paid nothing so far?"

"You will have to take risks, that is paying. Fate will often throw double or quits. But on these hazards men should not embark with levity; the gentleman will always think of settling-day."

Moret was silent. Brave and impetuous as he was, the conversation chilled him. His was not the courage of the Stoic; he had not schooled himself to contemplate the shock of dissolution. He fixed his thoughts on the struggles and hopes of the world, as one might look at the flowers and grasses that were growing on the edge of a precipice towards which he was being impelled.

They remained for a few moments without speaking, till Godoy and Renos entered, having arrived simultaneously.

Each man of the four had taken the news, which meant so much to them, according to their natures. Savrola had put on the armour of his philosophy, and gazed on the world as