“It is curious,” went on Ronsard slowly, “how soon the sense of wrong and injustice infects a whole community. One malcontent makes a host of malcontents. This is a fact which many governments lose sight of. If I were the ruler of a country—”
Here he suddenly paused—then added with a touch of brusqueness—
“Pardon me, Sir; I have never known the formalities which apply to conversation with a king, and I am too old to learn now. No doubt I speak too boldly! To me you are no more than man; you should be more by etiquette—but by simple humanity you are not!”
The King smiled, well pleased. This independent commoner, with his rough garb and rougher simplicity of speech, was a refreshing contrast to the obsequious personages by whom he was generally surrounded; and he felt an irresistible desire to know more of the life and surroundings of one who had gained a position of evident authority among the people of his own class.
“Go on, my friend!” he said. “Honest expression of thought can offend none but knaves and fools; and though there are some who say I have a smack of both, yet I flatter myself I am wholly neither of the twain! Continue what you were saying—if you were ruler of a country, what would you do?”
Réné Ronsard considered for a moment, and his furrowed brows set in a puzzled line.
“I think,” he said slowly, at last, “I should choose my friends and confidants among the leaders of the people.”
“And is not that precisely what we all do?” queried the King lightly; “Surely every monarch must count his friends among the members of the Government?”
“But the Government does not represent the actual people, Sir!” said Ronsard quietly.
“No? Then what does it represent?” enquired the King, becoming amused and interested in the discussion, and holding up his hand to warn back De Launay, and the other members of his suite who were just coming towards him from their tour of inspection through the garden—“Every member of the Government is elected by the people, and returned by the popular vote. What else would you have?”