out waiting for the permission he turned himself to the
Paladin--a dwarfed Paladin, of course--with manner, tones, gestures,
attitudes, everything exact, and went right on with the battle, and it
would be impossible to imagine a more perfectly and minutely ridiculous
imitation than he furnished to those shrieking people. They went into
spasms, convulsions, frenzies of laughter, and the tears flowed down
their cheeks in rivulets. The more they laughed, the more inspired Noel
grew with his theme and the greater marvels he worked, till really the
laughter was not properly laughing any more, but screaming. Blessedest
feature of all, Catherine Boucher was dying with ecstasies, and
presently there was little left of her but gasps and suffocations.
Victory? It was a perfect Agincourt.

The Paladin was gone only a couple of minutes; he found out at once that
a trick had been played on him, so he came back. When he approached
the door he heard Noel ranting in there and recognized the state of
the case; so he remained near the door but out of sight, and heard the
performance through to the end. The applause Noel got when he finished
was wonderful; and they kept it up and kept it up, clapping their hands
like mad, and shouting to him to do it over again.

But Noel was clever. He knew the very best background for a poem of deep
and refined sentiment and pathetic melancholy was one where great and
satisfying merriment had prepared the spirit for the powerful contrast.

So he paused until all was quiet, then his face grew grave and assumed
an impressive aspect, and at once all faces sobered in sympathy and took
on a look of wondering and expectant interest. Now he began in a low
but distinct voice the opening verses of The Rose. As he breathed the
rhythmic measures forth, and one gracious line after another fell upon
those enchanted ears in that deep hush, one could catch, on every hand,
half-audible ejaculations of "How lovely--how beautiful--how exquisite!"

By this time the Paladin, who had gone away for a moment with the
opening of the poem, was back again, and had stepped within the door.
He stood there now, resting his great frame against the wall and gazing
toward the reciter like one entranced. When Noel got to the second part,
and that heart-breaking refrain began to melt and move all listeners,
the Paladin began to wipe away tears with the back of first one hand
and then the other. The next time the refrain was repeated h