trombone brayed an interminable note, that would have driven to madness
quiescent cats by steaming kettles, and quick, like the springing pulse
of battle, the drum thumped and thumped. Blood could not hear it and
keep from boiling. The booth shook violently. Wilfrid and Gambier threw
over half-a-dozen chairs, forms, and tables, to make a barrier for the
protection of the women.

"Come," Wilfrid said to Emilia, "leave the harp, I will get you another.
Come."

"No, no," she cried in her nervous fright.

"For God's sake, come!" he reiterated, she, stamping her foot, as to
emphasize "No! no! no!"

"But I will buy you another harp;" he made audible to her through the
hubbub.

"This one!" she gasped with her hand on it. "What will he think if he
finds that I forsook it?"

Wilfrid knew her to allude to the unknown person who had given it to her.

"There--there," said he. "I sent it, and I can get you another. So,
come. Be good, and come."

"It was you!"

Emilia looked at him. She seemed to have no senses for the uproar about
her.