CHAPTER II.
PAS SEUL BY MOONLIGHT.
The moon hung high in silver light above the village and the quiet fields which lay beyond, when a gallant train came in order down the unfrequented street. Appareled gaily, each cavalier wore roquelaure and belt, and in their midst they bore a prisoner—the veteran Jean. Reaching at length the grassy market-place, they halted and formed a ring, in the midst of which they placed their captive. Some of the number drew from underneath their short cloaks instruments of music, while others cleared their throats as if about to sing. Presently there stepped apart a masked form, who thus gave command in a rude sort of rhyme:
"Hola, my merry mountaineers,
Prepare a festive lay;
Our gallant friend will measure trip
While we a song essay."
Each other masker thereupon drew a rapier, and turned its point to centre.
"Unbind the captive, give him room;
Now, friend, pray mind your play.
Strike up, my lads, and heed your time,
And merrily troll away."
At the word, the others commenced in deep, hoarse voices:
"An old graybeard a wooing came,
"Ha! ha! ha!
With plenty of brass, but little brain,
Tira la la!
Merrily round we go,
Merrily.
All in a circle O,
Cheerily!
Right joyful was the gaffer gray,
La la la!
And who so blithe as he I pray?
Tira la la!