Suddenly a loud voice shouts:

"MALBROUCK IS DEAD!"

A pause follows.

"_It is not true_" one forcibly contradicts.

"Yes, he is dead!" reiterates the first.

"It is not true!" insists the other.

"He is dead and in his bier!"

The second is incredulous:

"You but tell me that to jeer?"

But the crowd who have been smiling gleefully over the proceedings,
affect to resign themselves to the bad news of Malbrouck's death, and
all altogether groan in hoarse bass mockery:

"ÇA VA MA-A-A-L!!"[B]

Every one immediately dashes off in all haste, whips crack, wheels fly,
and shouting, racing and singing along all the roads, the country-folk
rattle away to their homes. Our two turn their wheels towards the
Manor-house, gleefully amused.