Meanwhile, as they passed up the street, the droning, vibrating voice of
the bear-leader came floating along the air and through the voices of the
crowd like the thread of motive in the movement of an opera.




CHAPTER V

That night, while gaiety and feasting went on at the Lavilettes', there
was another sort of feasting under way at the house of Shangois, the
notary.

On one side of a tiny fire in the chimney, over which hung a little black
kettle, sat Shangois and Vanne Castine. Castine was blowing clouds of
smoke from his pipe, and Shangois was pouring some tea leaves into a
little tin pot, humming to himself snatches of an old song as he did so:

"What shall we do when the King comes home?
What shall we do when he rides along
With his slaves of Greece and his serfs of Rome?
What shall we sing for a song--
When the King comes home?

"What shall we do when the King comes home?
What shall we do when he speaks so fair?
Shall we give him the house with the silver dome
And the maid with the crimson hair
When the King comes home?"