If you didn't believe it you could ask the tyrant, Claiborne, himself; he made no secret of it.

One or two--but they were considered by others extravagant--testified that, as the lady fell, they had seen his face distorted with a horrid delight, and had heard him cry: "Daz de way to knog them!" "But how came a lady to be out on the levee, at sunset, on foot and alone ?" asked a citizen, and another replied--both using the French of the late province: "As for being on foot"-- a shrug.

"But she was not alone; she had a _milatraisse_ behind her." "Ah! so; that was well." "But--ha, ha!--the _milatraisse_, seeing her mistress out of danger, takes the opportunity to try to bring the curse upon Agricola Fusilier by sitting down where he had just risen up, and had to get away from him as quickly as possible to save her own skull." "And left the lady ?" "Yes; and who took her to her home at last, but Frowenfeld, the apothecary!" "Ho, ho! the astrologer! We ought to hang that fellow." "With his books tied to his feet," suggested a third citizen.

"It is no more than we owe to the community to go and smash his show-window.

He had better behave himself.