She gently bids him go and dress, and at once he goes.
Ah! now the question may be answered without whispering.

There is Bras-Coupe, towering above all heads, in ridiculous red and blue regimentals, but with a look of savage dignity upon him that keeps every one from laughing.

The murmur of admiration that passed along the thronged gallery leaped up into a shout in the bosom of Palmyre.

Oh, Bras-Coupe--heroic soul! She would not falter.

She would let the silly priest say his say--then her cunning should help her _not to be_ his wife, yet to show his mighty arm how and when to strike.
"He is looking for Palmyre," said some, and at that moment he saw her.
"Ho-o-o-o-o!" Agricola's best roar was a penny trumpet to Bras-Coupe's note of joy.
The whole masculine half of the indoor company flocked out to see what the matter was.