the spirit of the evening, which
had become very flat.

While waiting for lights, the jalousies were once more opened, by orders
from the chair. The apartment was instantly pervaded by a dull,
changeful, red light, derived from the sky, which glowed above the trees
of the Jesuits' Walk with the reflection of extensive fires. The guests
were rather startled, too, by perceiving that the piazza was crowded
with heads; and that dusky faces, in countless number, were looking in
upon them, and had probably been watching them for some time past. With
the occasional puffs of wind, which brought the smell of burning, came a
confused murmur, from a distance, as of voices, the tramp of many horses
in the sand, and a multitude of feet in the streets. This was
immediately lost in louder sounds. The band struck up, unbidden, with
all its power, the Marseillaise Hymn; and every voice in the piazza,
and, by degrees, along the neighbouring streets and square, seemed to
join in singing the familiar words--

"Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrive."

The consternation of the deputies and their guests was extreme. Every
man showed his terror in his own way; but one act was universal. Each
one produced arms of one sort or another. Even Odeluc, it appeared, had
not come unarmed. While they were yet standing in groups about the
table, the door burst open, and a negro, covered with dust and panting
with haste, ran in and made for the head of the table, thrusting himself
freely through the parties of gentlemen. The chairman, at sight of the
man, turned pale, recoiled for a moment, and then, swearing a deep oath,
drew the short sword he wore, and ran the negro through the body.

"Oh, master!" cried the poor creature, as his life ebbed out in the
blood which inundated the floor.

The act was not seen by those outside, as there was a screen of persons
standing between the tables and the windows. To this accident it was
probably owing that the party survived that hour, and that any order was
preserved in the town.

"Shame, Proteau! shame!" said Odeluc, as he bent down, and saw that the
negro was dying. Papalier, Bayou, and a few more, cried "Shame!" also;
while others applauded.

"I will defend my deed," said Proteau, struggling with the hoarseness of
his voice, and pouring out a glass of wine to clear his throat. His
hand was none of the steadiest as he did so. "Hush that band! There is
no hearing one