"No. 3!" roared the officer; and a howl of derision from the mob covered his words. Henri had become a soldier.
I could not well see what then followed: there was a sudden hush, a chorus of exclamations, a rush toward the steps of the town-hall, and then the crowd fell back to make way for two gendarmes who were carrying a body between them.
"Is he dead?" asked a number of voices.
"Oh no," tittered the two men—"only fainted: he'll soon come round again." And the mob burst into a laugh.
E.C. GRENVILLE MURRAY.
THE SYMPHONY.
"O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead!
The age needs heart—'tis tired of head.
We're all for love," the violins said.