She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. He smiled complacently. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. But they cut it all off.
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