he gentleman drew from his pocket a purse of guineas, and, shaking
them before her face, asked if those were the dicky-birds she wished
for, the enjoyment of the audience passed all bounds of ordinary
expression. The men in lace and linen lay back in their seats to give
vent to loud guffaws, and the women flirted their fans coquettishly
before their eyes, or used them to tap the heads of their male
companions in mild and roguish remonstrance.

"Pity they didn't debauch the stage as well as the pulpit and bar, if
this is its condition inviolate," whispered the little man again.

The intervals between the acts were occupied by part of the audience
in drinking from the bottles which they carried strapped about their
waists, and in singing snatches of songs. One broad-mouthed roysterer
on the ground proposed the King's health, and supported the toast by a
ballad in which "Great Charles, like Jehovah," was described as
merciful and generous to the foes that would unking him and the vipers
that would sting him. The chorus to this loyal lyric was sung by the
"groundlings" with heartiness and unanimity:--

Let none fear a fever,
But take it off thus, boys;
Let the King live forever,
'Tis no matter for us, boys.

Ralph found the atmosphere stifling in this place, which was grown
noisome now to wellnigh every sense. He forced his way out through the
swaying bodies and swinging arms of the occupants of the pit. As he
did so he was conscious, though he did not turn his head, that close
behind him, in the opening which he made in the crowd, his inevitable
"Shadow" pursued him.

The air breathed free and fresh outside. Ralph walked from St.
Leonard's Gate by a back lane to the Dam Side. The river as well as
the old town was illuminated. Every boat bore lamps to the masthead.
Lamps, too, of many colors, hung downwards from the bridge, and were
reflected in their completed circle in the waters beneath them.

The night was growing apace, and the streets were thronged with
people, some laughing, some singing, some wrangling, and some
fighting. Every tavern and coffee-house, as Ralph went by, sent out
into the night its babel of voices. Loyal Lancasterians were within,
doing honor to the royal message of that day by observing the spirit
while violating the letter of it.

Ralph had walked up the Dam Side near to that point at which the Covel
Cross lies to the left, when a couple of drunken men came reeling o