“People, you have heard my vow! If before the end of the month Carl Pérousse is not ejected with contempt from office, I will ask my death at your hands! A meeting will be convened next week at the People’s Assembly Rooms where we shall make arrangements to approach the King. If the King refuses to receive us, we shall find means to make him do so! He shall hear us! He is our paid servant, and he is bound to serve us faithfully,—or the Throne shall be a thing of the past, to be looked back upon with regret that we, a great and free people, ever tolerated its vice and tyranny!”
Here he waited to let the storm of plaudits subside,—and then continued: “Now part, all of you friends!—go your ways,—and keep order for yourselves with vigilance! The soldiery are here, but they dare not fire!—the police are here, but they dare not arrest! Give them no cause even to say that it would have been well to do either! Let the spiritual force of your determined minds,—fixed on a noble and just purpose, over-rule mere temporal authority; let none have to blame you for murder or violence,—take no life,—shed no blood; but let your conquest of the Government,—your capture of the Throne,—be a glorious moral victory, outweighing any battle gained only by brute force and rapine!”
He was answered by a strenuous cheer; and then the three great sections of the multitude began to move. Out of the square in perfect order they marched,—still singing; one huge mass of people being headed by Pasquin Leroy, the other by Johan Zegota,—the third by Sergius Thord himself. The soldiery, seeing there was no cause for interference, withdrew,—the police dispersed, and once again an outbreak of popular disorder was checked and for a time withheld.
But this second riot had startled the metropolis in good earnest. Everyone became fully alive to the danger and increasing force of the disaffected community,—and the Government,—lately grown inert and dilatory in the transaction of business,—began seriously to consider ways and means of pacifying general clamour and public dissatisfaction. None of the members of the Cabinet were much surprised, therefore, when they each received a summons from the King to wait upon him at the Palace that day week,—‘to discuss affairs of national urgency,’ and the general impression appeared to be, that though Carl Pérousse dismissed the ‘street rowdyism,’ as he called it, with contempt, and spoke of ‘disloyal traitors opposed to the Government,’ he was nevertheless riding for a fall; and that his chances of obtaining the Premiership were scarcely so sure as they had hitherto seemed.
Meanwhile, Pequita, whose childish rage against the King for not noticing her dancing or applauding it, had been the trifling cause of the sudden volcanic eruption of the public mind, became more than ever the idol of the hour. The night after the riot, the Opera-house was crowded to suffocation,—and the stage was covered with flowers. Among the countless bouquets offered to the triumphant little dancer, came one which was not thrown from the audience, but was brought to her by a messenger; it was a great cluster of scarlet carnations, and attached to it was a tiny velvet case, containing the ring promised to her by Pasquin Leroy, when, as he had said, she ‘should dance before the King.’ A small card accompanied it on which was written ‘Pequita, from Pasquin!’ Turning to Lotys, who, in the event of further turbulence, had accompanied her to the Opera that night to take care of her, and who sat grave, pale, and thoughtful, in one of the dressing-rooms near the stage, the child eagerly showed her the jewel, exclaiming:
“See! He has kept his promise!”
And Lotys,—sighing even while she smiled,—answered:
“Yes, dear! He would not be the brave man he is, if he ever broke his word!”
Whereat Pequita slipped the ring on her friend’s finger, kissing her and whispering:
“Take care of it for me! Wear it for me! For tonight, at least!”