The young flower of her sex burned to speak, to deliver an opinion.  She was unaccustomed to yield a fascinated ear.  She was accustomed rather to dictate and be the victorious performer, and though now she was not anxious to occupy the pulpit—­being too strictly bred to wish for a post publicly in any of the rostra—­and meant still less to dispossess the present speaker of the place he filled so well, she yearned to join him:  and as that could not be done by a stranger approving, she panted to dissent.  A young lady cannot so well say to an unknown gentleman:  ’You have spoken truly, sir,’ as, ‘That is false!’ for to speak in the former case would be gratuitous, and in the latter she is excused by the moral warmth provoking her.  Further, dissent rings out finely, and approval is a feeble murmur—­a poor introduction of oneself.  Her moral warmth was ready and waiting for the instigating subject, but of course she was unconscious of the goad within.  Excitement wafted her out of herself, as we say, or out of the conventional vessel into the waves of her troubled nature.  He had not yet given her an opportunity for dissenting; she was compelled to agree, dragged at his chariot-wheels in headlong agreement.

His theme was Action; the political advantages of Action; and he illustrated his view with historical examples, to the credit of the French, the temporary discredit of the German and English races, who tend to compromise instead.  Of the English he spoke as of a power extinct, a people ‘gone to fat,’ who have gained their end in a hoard of gold and shut the door upon bandit ideas.  Action means life to the soul as to the body.  Compromise is virtual death:  it is the pact between cowardice and comfort under the title of expediency.  So do we gather dead matter about us.  So are we gradually self-stifled, corrupt.  The war with evil in every form must be incessant; we cannot have peace.  Let then our joy be in war:  in uncompromising Action, which need not be the less a sagacious conduct of the war . . . .  Action energizes men’s brains, generates grander capacities, provokes greatness of soul between enemies, and is the guarantee of positive conquest for the benefit of our species.  To doubt that, is to doubt of good being to be had for the seeking.  He drew pictures of the healthy Rome when turbulent, the doomed quiescent.  Rome struggling grasped the world.  Rome stagnant invited Goth and Vandal.  So forth:  alliterative antitheses of the accustomed pamphleteer.  At last her chance arrived.

His opposition sketch of Inaction was refreshed by an analysis of the character of Hamlet.  Then he reverted to Hamlet’s promising youth.  How brilliantly endowed was the Prince of Denmark in the beginning!

‘Mad from the first!’ cried Clotilde.

She produced an effect not unlike that of a sudden crack of thunder.  The three made chorus in a noise of boots on the floor.

Her hero faced about and stood up, looking at her fulgently.  Their eyes engaged without wavering on either side.  Brave eyes they seemed, each pair of them, for his were fastened on a comely girl, and she had strung herself to her gallantest to meet the crisis.