was it to end?

Far away at Paris, the elder Lenoir answered these appeals of his
brother by sending reinforcements of money. Chests of gold arrived for
the bank. The Prince of Noirbourg bade his beleaguered lieutenant not to
lose heart: he himself never for a moment blenched in this trying hour
of danger.

The Contrebanquists still went on victorious. Rouleau after rouleau fell
into their possession. At last the news came: The Emperor has joined
the Grand Army. Lenoir himself had arrived from Paris, and was once more
among his children, his people. The daily combats continued: and
still, still, though Napoleon was with the Eagles, the abominable
Contrebanquists fought and conquered. And far greater than Napoleon, as
great as Ney himself under disaster, the bold Lenoir never lost courage,
never lost good-humor, was affable, was gentle, was careful of his
subjects' pleasures and comforts, and met an adverse fortune with a
dauntless smile.

With a devilish forbearance and coolness, the atrocious
Contrebanque--like Polyphemus, who only took one of his prisoners out
of the cave at a time, and so ate them off at leisure--the horrid
Contrebanquists, I say, contented themselves with winning so much before
dinner, and so much before supper--say five thousand florins for each
meal. They played and won at noon: they played and won at eventide. They
of Noirbourg went home sadly every night: the invader was carrying all
before him. What must have been the feelings of the great Lenoir? What
were those of Washington before Trenton, when it seemed all up with the
cause of American Independence; what those of the virgin Elizabeth,
when the Armada was signalled; what those of Miltiades, when the
multitudinous Persian bore down on Marathon? The people looked on at
the combat, and saw their chieftain stricken, bleeding, fallen, fighting
still.

At last there came one day when the Contrebanquists had won their
allotted sum, and were about to leave the tables which they had swept
so often. But pride and lust of gold had seized upon the heart of one of
their vainglorious chieftains; and he said, "Do not let us go yet--let
us win a thousand florins more!" So they stayed and set the bank yet
a thousand florins. The Noirbourgers looked on, and trembled for their
prince.

Some three hours afterwards--a shout, a mighty shout was heard around
the windows of that palace: the town, the gardens, the hills, the
fountains took up and echoed the