Let us go.

That we lie down in peace and honour"-- he went on, solemnly raising his hand over the happy weeping girl beside him, as if he blessed her--"that our wives and children lie safe within our walls is due, under God, to this roof.
And I call all here to witness that while I live the city of Geneva shall never forget the debt that is due to this house and to the name of Royaume!" "Ay, ay!" cried the bandy-legged tailor.

"I too! The small with the great, the rich with the poor, as we have fought this night!" "Ay! Ay!" Some shook her by the hand, and some called Heaven to bless her, and some with tears running down their faces--for no man there was his common everyday self--did naught but look on her with kindness.

And so, each having done after his fashion, they trooped out again into the street.

A moment later, as the winter sun began to colour the distant snows, and the second Sunday in December of the year 1602 broke on Geneva, the voices of the multitude rose in the one hundred and twenty-fourth psalm; to the solemn thunder of which, poured from thankful hearts, the assembly accompanied Baudichon to his home a little farther down the Corraterie.
Anne was about to close the door and secure it after them--with feelings how different from those with which she had opened that door!--when it resisted her shaking hands.