He was moving away when Lord Clare stopped him.
'Mr. Curran,' he said, with a winning show of teeth, 'as you said, we once were friends; why not again? It's not my fault, mind. The heroic rôle no doubt is charming; but, believe me, fitted more for adolescence than for men in middle life. You aim at becoming the champion of the oppressed. You will come to grief with them, I fear.'
'In a general intoxication the most grievous of offenders is he who passes the cup, refusing to be degraded,' snapped the lawyer.
'Rebuking by importunate sobriety the indecent revelry around--eh, Mr. Curran?' laughed the chancellor. 'That's a fit finish to your period, I think. What a mistake it is when orators forget that they are not always addressing juries or constituents.'
As the lawyer plunged into the crowd, Lord Clare muttered:
'Damn him, he can't be bought; let us try what traps will do.' Then cried with the artlessness of infancy, 'Miss Wolfe! Miss Wolfe! What makes you look so animated? The statue has come to life while I've been gossiping with that eccentric friend of ours.'
Pupil of Machiavelli! He knew as well as did Doreen, though his back was turned--for he had a way of looking aslant like a hare--that a party of young men had just appeared in the grand doorway, who not long since were suffering as traitors. Tom Emmett and his associates presented themselves before their natural enemy, the Viceroy; then retired into a side-room to deliberate. Things were going wrong, yet the Emmetts did not despair. Tom had fought with all his might in council against the kidnapping scheme--in vain--and was no little relieved when he discovered that the massing of troops about the Castle had rendered this plot abortive. As they marched up the grand staircase the delegates scrutinised each soldier who stood upright and impassive on each step. One hummed between his teeth of a 'green bough,' but met with no response. The executive fell into no errors. These soldiers, ostensibly placed there as a new spectacle for Dublin eyes, belonged to a regiment just landed, who could not by any possibility know aught about a green bough, or care about it, or bestow mysterious sidewinks upon such as chose to babble of it. The mine had through treachery of some sort been countermined. Those two parties who were waiting in ambush for a signal must wait and shiver in the cold; there could be no starting either for Chapelizod or Kilmainham. Perhaps they would all agree now to place firmer faith in their chief--to trust to the judgment of him who stood in the shoes of Tone. Why, the French might be under weigh by this time. A pretty thing it would be if upon his landing Hoche found the ground already cut from beneath his feet by the precipitancy of his Irish allies! They had been awaiting intelligence for weeks. Terence would return anon with news--something tangible on which to build up future edifices.
At mention of Terence a shade of coldness came over the faces of some of the young men. Cassidy--who was in splendid military garb, which made his stalwart figure look like a modern Mars--had joined them on their entry; and chid them severely now for daring to be suspicious of Mr. Crosbie.
'What matters it,' he asked, 'about his brother's views? Brothers usually take up opinions as diametrically opposed as possible, as though to establish a family balance.' He himself who spoke, whom none would presume to suspect, had angled after Councillor Crosbie as an invaluable accession to their ranks; had angled in vain for long, till the Orr atrocity had roused even him. He, Cassidy, their old boon-companion, who would give his lifeblood for any of them, would go bail for the honesty of Terence. 'His honesty, forsooth! The suspicion was ludicrous. What had he to gain by joining them, in proportion with what he lost? He, an aristocrat, who might be Earl of Glandore to-morrow--his brother being the fighting champion of the Cherokees.'
Robert followed suit with grateful glances at Cassidy. 'Their faith had been shaken by Miss Wolfe, than whom there was no patriot more earnest. But they must remember that Miss Wolfe, masculine and shrewd as by whiffs she seemed, was a woman who was, like all women, guided by her heart rather than her head. Terence, for aught he knew, might have been worshipping at some other shrine than hers, which, to a woman's mind, would be quite excuse enough for allowing private malice to trip up public good. Terence had been his (Robert's) friend for years. Aye, and Tom's too. They must beg the members of the Irish Directory to avoid hasty decisions which afterwards they might repent. Terence should have been back ere this, no doubt; but when he did arrive he would show good reason for delay.'