"I think," she said, "that there was once another scoffer who
remained to pray."

As he did not answer, she sent a swift side glance at him, found
him tranquilly surveying the crowd below where, at the corner of
Canal and Broadway, half a dozen Zouaves, clothed in their
characteristic and brilliant uniforms and wearing hairy knapsacks
trussed up behind, were being vociferously acclaimed by the people
as they passed, bayonets fixed.

"More heroes," he observed, "made immortal while you wait."

And now Ailsa became aware of a steady, sustained sound audible
above the tumult around them; a sound like surf washing on a
distant reef.

"Do you hear that? It's like the roar of the sea," she said. "I
believe they're coming; I think I caught a strain of military music
a moment ago!"

They rose on tiptoe, straining their ears; even the skylarking
gamins who had occupied the stage top behind them, and the driver,
who had reappeared, drunk, and resumed his reins and seat, stood up
to listen.

Above the noise of the cheering, rolling steadily toward them over
the human ocean, came the deadened throbbing of drums. A far, thin
strain of military music rose, was lost, rose again; the double
thudding of the drums sounded nearer; the tempest of cheers became
terrific. Through it, at intervals, they could catch the clear