"APRES NOUS LE DELUGE!" As Gabriel's voice fell to silence, after the last words, a stillness came upon the lamp-lit room, a hush broken only by the snapping of the pine-root fire on the hearth and by the busy ticking of the clock upon the chimneypiece.

Then, after a minute's pause, Craig reached over and took Gabriel by the hand.
"I salute you, O poet of the Revolution now impending!" he cried, while Catherine's eyes gleamed bright with tears.

"Would God that _I_ could write like that, old man!" "And would God that my paper was still being issued!" Brevard added, making a gesture with the pipe that, in his eagerness to hear, he had allowed to die.

"If it were I'd give that poem my front page, and fling its message full in the faces of Plutocracy!" Gabriel smiled a bit nervously.
"Don't, please don't," he begged.

"If you really do like it help me spread it.