"In the meanwhile, my cabbages," quoth Auguste sententiously, "are you
not grateful to Citizen Robespierre, who has sent this order specially
down from Paris?"
"Aye! aye!" assented the crowd cheerfully.
"Hurrah for Citizen Robespierre!"
"Viva la Republique!"
"And you will enjoy yourselves to-day?"
"That we will!"
"Processions?"
"Aye! with music and dancing."
Out there, far away, beyond the harbour, the grey light of dawn was
yielding to the crimson glow of morning. The rain had ceased and heavy
slaty clouds parted here and there, displaying glints of delicate turquoise
sky, and tiny ethereal vapours in the dim and remote distance of infinity,
flecked with touches of rose and gold.
The towers and pinnacles of old Boulogne detached themselves one by
one from the misty gloom of night. The old bell of the Beffroi tolled the
hour of six. Soon the massive cupola of Notre Dame was clothed in
purple hues, and the gilt cross on St. Joseph threw back across the square
a blinding ray of gold.
The town sparrows began to twitter, and from far out at sea in the
direction of Dunkirk there came the muffled boom of cannon.
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