And again he listened to the sound that came up to him, now resembling the beat of drums, and now a loud cry of exultation.
"Now I think Samson must be striking the head off the wolf!" growled Simon to himself, "and the people are shouting with pleasure, and Jeanne Marie is making a mark in her stocking, and I, poor fellow, cannot be there to see the fine show! And this miserable brat is to blame for it," he cried aloud, turning suddenly round to the child who was playing behind him with his ball, and giving him a savage blow with his fist.
"You are the cause, stupid, that I cannot be there today!"
"Master," said the child, beseechingly, lifting his great blue eyes, in which the tears were standing, up to his tormentor—" master, I beg your forgiveness if I have troubled you."
"Yes, you have troubled me," growled Simon, "and you shall get your thanks for it in a way you will not like. Quick, away with your tears, go on with your play if you do not want your back to make acquaintance with my straps. Merry, I say, little Capet, merry!"
The boy hastily dried his tears, laughed aloud as a proof of his merriment, and began to jump about again and to play with his ball.
Simon listened again, and looked down longingly into the streets, which were now black with the surging masses of men. Steps were now heard upon the stairway, and Jeanne Marie presently appeared on the platform. With a grave, solemn air she walked up to her husband, and gave him her stocking, on which three great drops of blood were visible.
"That is her blood," she said, calmly. "Thank God, I have lost the bet!"
"What sort of a bet was it?" asked the boy, with a smile, and giving his ball a merry toss.
"The bet is nothing to you," answered Jeanne Marie, "but if you are good you will get something by and by, and have a share in the payment of the bet!"