nds like mad, and
shouting to him to do it over again.

But Noel was clever. He knew the very best background for a poem of deep
and refined sentiment and pathetic melancholy was one where great and
satisfying merriment had prepared the spirit for the powerful contrast.

So he paused until all was quiet, then his face grew grave and assumed an
impressive aspect, and at once all faces sobered in sympathy and took on
a look of wondering and expectant interest. Now he began in a low but
distinct voice the opening verses of The Rose. As he breathed the
rhythmic measures forth, and one gracious line after another fell upon
those enchanted ears in that deep hush, one could catch, on every hand,
half-audible ejaculations of "How lovely--how beautiful--how exquisite!"

By this time the Paladin, who had gone away for a moment with the opening
of the poem, was back again, and had stepped within the door. He stood
there now, resting his great frame against the wall and gazing toward the
reciter like one entranced. When Noel got to the second part, and that
heart-breaking refrain began to melt and move all listeners, the Paladin
began to wipe away tears with the back of first one hand and then the
other. The next time the refrain was repeated he got to snuffling, and
sort of half sobbing, and went to wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his
doublet. He was so conspicuous that he embarrassed Noel a little, and
also had an ill effect upon the audience. With the next repetition he
broke quite down and began to cry like a calf, which ruined all the
effect and started many to the audience to laughing. Then he went on from
bad to worse, until I never saw such a spectacle; for he fetched out a
towel from under his doublet and began to swab his eyes with it and let
go the most infernal bellowings mixed up with sobbings and groanings and
retchings and barkings and coughings and snortings and screamings and
howlings --and he twisted himself about on his heels and squirmed this
way and that, still pouring out that brutal clamor and flourishing his
towel in the air and swabbing again and wringing it out. Hear? You
couldn't hear yourself think. Noel was wholly drowned out and silenced,
and those people were laughing the very lungs out of themselves. It was
the most degrading sight that ever was. Now I heard the clankety-clank
that plate-armor makes when the man that is in it is running, and then
alongside my head there burst out the most inhuma