Para nobis locum refugii,
O Maria.
"'Tunc iratus Judex—'"
"Hurrah for Boulanger!"
The noise as of a stormy sea mounted from the Place Saint Sulpice, and a hubbub of cries floated up to the tower room. "Boulange—Lange—" Then an enormous, raucous voice, the voice of an oyster woman, a push-cart peddler, rose, dominating all others, howling, "Hurrah for Boulanger!"
"The people are cheering the election returns in front of the city hall," said Carhaix disdainfully.
They looked at each other.
"The people of today!" exclaimed Des Hermies.
"Ah," grumbled Gévingey, "they wouldn't acclaim a sage, an artist, that way, even—if such were conceivable now—a saint."
"And they did in the Middle Ages."