"With snow, son of a crossing-sweeper!" replied Trafford. "Work hard, brothers, and form a rampart breast high, and hold it against all comers."
The tone of command and his imposing position on the big doctor's shoulders, won their way. The doctor, too, was recognised as a prominent burgher of "advanced" tendencies, and the crowd set to work with the utmost energy and determination.
"What on earth are you doing?" asked a soft voice by his side.
Looking down he perceived the Princess Gloria. The girl was evidently under the stress of great excitement; her eyes were unnaturally bright and her bosom was heaving tumultuously under her coat of sables. But when her eyes met Trafford's she laughed; it would not have been the Princess Gloria had she not done so.
"What on earth are you doing on Doctor Matti's shoulders?" she repeated.
"Telling the people to make snow-men for the Dragoons to charge against," he replied.
"But that won't stop them," she objected.
"Of course it won't," he agreed, "but it keeps these fellows warm and busy. The essence of a revolution is to keep things moving. Inaction is the foe to insurrection."
"You talk like a paid agitator," she said, still smiling.
"I am. The highest-paid agitator that ever was. Have you forgotten the agreed price?"