arming clangour far and wide into the night.

A window was thrown open in a house across the street, and a voice
inquired the cause of this untimely uproar.

"I wish the Maire," said Leon.

"He has been in bed this hour," returned the voice.

"He must get up again," retorted Leon, and he was for tackling the
bell-pull once more.

"You will never make him hear," responded the voice. "The garden is of
great extent, the house is at the farther end, and both the Maire and
his housekeeper are deaf."

"Aha!" said Leon, pausing. "The Maire is deaf, is he? That explains."
And he thought of the evening's concert with a momentary feeling of
relief. "Ah!" he continued, "and so the Maire is deaf, and the garden
vast, and the house at the far end?"

"And you might ring all night," added the voice, "and be none the better
for it. You would only keep me awake."

"Thank you, neighbour," replied the singer. "You shall sleep."

And he made off again at his best pace for the Commissary's. Elvira was
still walking to and fro before the door.

"He has not come?" asked Leon.

"Not he," she replied.

"Good," returned Leon. "I am sure our man's inside. Let me see the
guitar-case. I shall lay this siege in form, Elvira; I am angry; I am
indignant: I am truculently inclined; but I thank my Maker I have still
a sense of fun. The unjust judge shall be importuned in a serenade,
Elvira. Set him up--and set him up."

He had the case opened by this time, struck a few chords, and fell into
an attitude which was irresistibly Spanish.

"Now," he continued, "feel your voice. Are you ready? Follow me!"

The guitar twanged, and the two voices upraised, in harmony and with a
startling loudness, the chorus of a song of old Beranger's:--

"Commissaire! Commissaire!
Colin bat sa menagere."

The stones of Castel-le-Gachis thrilled at this audacious innovation.
Hitherto had the night been sacred to repose and night-caps; and now
what was this? Window after window was opened; matches scratched, and
candles began to flicker; swollen, sleepy faces peered forth into the
starlight. There were the two figures before the Commissary's house,
each bolt upright, with head thrown back and eyes interrogating the
starry heavens; the guitar wailed, shouted, and reverberated like half
an orchestra; and the voices, with a crisp and spirited delivery, hurled
the appropriate burden at the Commissary's window. All the echoes
repeated the functionary's nam