rapture were spreading abroad. I took up the chant triumphantly with
my voice, and the empty saloon resounded as though to the thunder of
an orchestra.

"Hallo sir!" "Confound you, sir--" "Do you suppose that this--" "What
the deuce--?"

I turned; and silence followed. Six men, partially dressed, with
disheveled hair, stood regarding me angrily. They all carried candles.
One of them had a bootjack, which he held like a truncheon. Another,
the foremost, had a pistol. The night porter was behind trembling.

"Sir," said the man with the revolver, coarsely, "may I ask whether
you are mad, that you disturb people at this hour with such unearthly
noise?"

"Is it possible that you dislike it?" I replied courteously.

"Dislike it!" said he, stamping with rage. "Why--damn everything--do
you suppose we were enjoying it?"

"Take care: he's mad," whispered the man with the bootjack.

I began to laugh. Evidently they did think me mad. Unaccustomed to my
habits, and ignorant of the music as they probably were, the mistake,
however absurd, was not unnatural. I rose. They came closer to one
another; and the night porter ran away.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I am sorry for you. Had you lain still and
listened, we should all have been the better and happier. But what you
have done, you cannot undo. Kindly inform the night porter that I am
gone to visit my uncle, the Cardinal Archbishop. Adieu!"

I strode past them, and left them whispering among themselves. Some
minutes later I knocked at the door of the Cardinal's house. Presently
a window opened and the moonbeams fell on a grey head, with a black
cap that seemed ashy pale against the unfathomable gloom of the shadow
beneath the stone sill.

"Who are you?"

"I am Zeno Legge."

"What do you want at this hour?"

The question wounded me. "My dear uncle," I exclaimed, "I know you do
not intend it, but you make me feel unwelcome. Come down and let me
in, I beg."

"Go to your hotel," he said sternly. "I will see you in the morning.
Goodnight." He disappeared and closed the window.

I felt that if I let this rebuff pass, I should not feel kindly
towards my uncle in the morning, nor indeed at any future time. I
therefore plied the knocker with my right hand, and kept the bell
ringing with my left until I heard the door chain rattle within. The
Cardinal's expression was grave nearly to moroseness as he confronted
me on the threshold.

"Uncle," I cried, grasping his hand, "do n