Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris.
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