It was there, somewhere, down underneath; but it had to be taken on faith.

There was a dull hum or muffled grating, but so low in pitch that the ear strained to catch it.
"Ah! Where is the magnificence?
It is a fake!" The baron shook his fists angrily at the river, and Jacob Welse's thick brows seemed to draw down in order to hide the grim smile in his eyes.
"Ha! ha! I laugh! I snap my fingers! See! I defy!" As the challenge left his lips.

Baron Courbertin stepped upon a cake which rubbed lightly past at his feet.

So unexpected was it, that when Jacob Welse reached after him he was gone.
The ice was picking up in momentum, and the hum growing louder and more threatening.

Balancing gracefully, like a circus-rider, the Frenchman whirled away along the rim of the bank.