At the same instant the voice of the young Cuban sounded in the room.
Pauline was in a great tremor.

She made as if she would have opened the door and fled, but the Irishman gave a gesture of earnest protest and re-assurance.

The re-opened door might make the back parlor of the Cafe des Exiles a scene of blood.

Thinking of this, what could she do?
She staid.
"You goth a heap-a thro-vle, Senor," said Manuel Mazaro, taking the seat so lately vacated.

He had patted M.D'Hemecourt tenderly on the back and the old gentleman had flinched; hence the remark, to which there was no reply.
"Was a bee crowth a' the _Cafe the Refugies_," continued the young man.
"Bud, w'ere dad Madjor Shaughnessy ?" demanded M.D'Hemecourt, with the little sternness he could command.
"Mayor Shaughness'-- yez-a; was there; boat-a," with a disparaging smile and shake of the head, "_he_ woon-a come-a to you.