embled soldiers sounded like the
distant roar of the surf.

A fresh burst of military music rang out, and now Florette started to her
feet and listened. It seemed as if she heard Ulrich's voice, and the
rapid throbbing of her heart almost stopped her breath. She must go out,
she must see and hear what was passing. Hastily pushing the white hair
back from her brow, she threw a veil over it, and hurried through the
camp to the spot where the election was taking place.

The soldiers all knew her and made way for her. The leaders of the
mutineers were standing on the wall of earth between the field-pieces,
and amid the foremost rank, nay, in front of them all, her son was
addressing the crowd.

The choice wavered between him and Zorrillo. Ulrich had already been
speaking a long time. His cheeks were glowing and he looked so handsome,
so noble, in his golden helmet, from beneath which floated his thick,
fair locks, that her heart swelled with joy, and as the night grows
brighter when the black clouds are torn asunder and the moon victoriously
appears, grief and pain were suddenly irradiated by maternal love and
pride.

Now he drew his tall figure up still higher, exclaiming: "Others are
readier and bolder with the tongue than I, but I can speak with the sword
as well as any one."

Then raising the heavy two-handed sword, which others laboriously managed
with both hands, he swung it around his head, using only his right hand,
in swift circles, until it fairly whistled through the air.

The soldiers shouted exultingly as they beheld the feat, and when he had
lowered the weapon and silence was restored, he continued, defiantly,
while his breath came quick and short: "And where do the talkers, the
parleyers seek to lead us? To cringe like dogs, who lick their masters'
feet, before the men who cheat us. Count Mannsfeld will come to-day; I
know it, and I have also learned that he will bring everything except
what is our due, what we need, what we intend to demand, what we require
for our bare feet, our ragged bodies; money, money he has not to offer!
This is so, I swear it; if not, stand forth, you parleyers, and give me
the lie! Have you inclination or courage to give the lie to
Navarrete?--You are silent!--But we will speak! We will not suffer
ourselves to be mocked and put off! What we demand is fair pay for good
work. Whoever has patience, can wait. Mine is exhausted.

"We are His Majesty's obedient servants and wish t