“The Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr said of him that he had too dangerous a gift of eloquence.  It was to silence his brave voice that he killed him.  But he has failed of his object.  For I, poor Philippe de Vilmorin’s friend, have assumed the mantle of his apostleship, and I speak to you with his voice to-day.”

It was a statement that helped Le Chapelier at last to understand, at least in part, this bewildering change in Andre-Louis, which rendered him faithless to the side that employed him.

“I am not here,” continued Andre-Louis, “merely to demand at your hands vengeance upon Philippe de Vilmorin’s murderers.  I am here to tell you the things he would to-day have told you had he lived.”

So far at least he was frank.  But he did not add that they were things he did not himself believe, things that he accounted the cant by which an ambitious bourgeoisie — speaking through the mouths of the lawyers, who were its articulate part — sought to overthrow to its own advantage the present state of things.  He left his audience in the natural belief that the views he expressed were the views he held.

And now in a terrible voice, with an eloquence that amazed himself, he denounced the inertia of the royal justice where the great are the offenders.  It was with bitter sarcasm that he spoke of their King’s Lieutenant, M. de Lesdiguieres.

“Do you wonder,” he asked them, “that M. de Lesdiguieres should administer the law so that it shall ever be favourable to our great nobles?  Would it be just, would it be reasonable that he should otherwise administer it?” He paused dramatically to let his sarcasm sink in.  It had the effect of reawakening Le Chapelier’s doubts, and checking his dawning conviction in Andre-Louis’ sincerity.  Whither was he going now?

He was not left long in doubt.  Proceeding, Andre-Louis spoke as he conceived that Philippe de Vilmorin would have spoken.  He had so often argued with him, so often attended the discussions of the Literary Chamber, that he had all the rant of the reformers — that was yet true in substance — at his fingers’ ends.

“Consider, after all, the composition of this France of ours.  A million of its inhabitants are members of the privileged classes.  They compose France.  They are France.  For surely you cannot suppose the remainder to be anything that matters.  It cannot be pretended that twenty-four million souls are of any account, that they can be representative of this great nation, or that they can exist for any purpose but that of servitude to the million elect.”

Bitter laughter shook them now, as he desired it should.  “Seeing their privileges in danger of invasion by these twenty-four millions — mostly canailles; possibly created by God, it is true, but clearly so created to be the slaves of Privilege — does it surprise you that the dispensing of royal justice should be placed in the stout hands of these Lesdiguieres, men without brains to think or hearts to be touched?  Consider what it is that must be defended against the assault of us others — canaille.  Consider a few of these feudal rights that are in danger of being swept away should the Privileged yield even to the commands of their sovereign; and admit the Third Estate to an equal vote with themselves.