undesired playing on his account. The man's face, moreover, with all its
joviality, by no means attracted him, and he shouted to him in a
sharply-protesting tone--

"Play for yourself, Yankee."

The American seemed not to be able to hear on that side, for he
repeated, coolly nodding to him--

"One more on account!"

Salvé's patience was exhausted. He had been sitting all this time
squeezed up in the narrow space between the bench and the wall with
people on both sides of him, preventing his getting out; but now
grasping his neighbour violently by the shoulder, he sprang all at once
across the table and over to the unabashed Yankee, with an irresistible
feeling that, come what might, he would get out into the freedom of the
open air once more.

Just then there came from the furthest room a cry of "police." The
lights in that room were at once extinguished; and a moment after, those
in the room where Salvé was on the point of falling foul of the American
(who, to his great surprise, found him all of a sudden confronting him)
went out also.

Their hostile relations, however, were almost immediately turned into
friendly ones. For Salvé, who had seen the landlord making a rush
towards him, felt himself suddenly, in the midst of the confusion caused
by the darkness, seized by two men and forced towards a door leading in
another direction than that in which he saw the stream was setting, and