"Up the
staircase quick, and play and laugh."
Louis obeyed with a smile, sprang up the high steps of the winding
stairway, jumped about on the platform, throwing his ball up in the
air, and shouting aloud when he caught it again with his little thin
hands.
Meanwhile Simon stood leaning on the iron railing that surrounded
the platform, looking with his searching eyes down into the street
which far below ran between the dark houses like a narrow ribbon.
The wind now brought the sustained notes of the drums to him; then
he saw the street below suddenly filled with a dark mass, as if the
ribbon were turning into crape that was filling all Paris.
"The people are in motion by thousands," cried Simon, delightedly,
"and all rushing to the Place de la Revolution. I shall win my bet."
And again he listened to the sound that came up to him, now
resembling the beat of drums, and now a loud cry of exultation.
"Now I think Samson must be striking the head off the wolf!" growled
Simon to himself, "and the people are shouting with pleasure, and
Jeanne Marie is making a mark in her stocking, and I, poor fellow,
cannot be there to see the fine show! And this miserable brat is to
blame for it," he cried aloud, turning suddenly round to the child
who was playing behind him with his ball, and giving him a savage
blow with his fist.
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