It was dark after the evening glow outside, but the light shone through an open door, and she made her way to it, and stood looking in, upon a small narrow room, very barely furnished as to tables and chairs, but most completely filled with children of all ages. They sat in rows, some on the few chairs, some on the floor, and some on the laps of the elder ones. Here and there a tiny baby dozed in the lap of an older girl, but for the most part they were from three years old and upwards. All had clean, shining faces, and on the front of each child’s dress was pinned a tricolour bow, whilst on the large corner table stood a coarse pottery jar stuffed full of white Margaret daisies, scarlet poppies, and bright blue cornflowers. Aline frowned a little impatiently and tapped with her foot on the floor, but no one took any notice. A tall lady with her back to the door was apparently concluding a tale to which all the children listened spellbound. "Yes, indeed," Aline heard her say, in a full pleasant voice,—"yes, indeed, children, the dragon was most dreadfully fierce and wicked. His eyes shot out sparks, hot like the sparks at the forge, and flames ran out of his mouth so that all the ground was scorched, and the grass died.—Jeanne Marie, thou little foolish one, there is no need to cry. Have courage, and take Amelie’s hand. The brave youth will not be harmed, because of the magic sword.—It was all very well for the dragon to spit fire at him, but he could not make him afraid. No, indeed! He raised the great sword in both hands, and struck at the monster. At the first blow the earth shook, and the sea roared. At the second blow the clouds fell down out of the sky, and all the wild beasts of the woods roared horribly, but at the third blow the dragon’s head was cut clean off, and he fell down dead at the hero’s feet. Then the chains that were on the wrists and ankles of the lovely lady vanished away, and she ran into the hero’s arms, free and beautiful." A long sigh went up from the rows of children, and one said regretfully: "Is that all, Citoyenne?" "That is all the story, my children; but now I shall ask questions. Félicité, say then, who is the young hero?" A big, sharp-eyed girl looked up, and said in a quick sing-song, "He is the glorious Revolution and the dragon." "Chut then,—I asked only for the hero. It is Candide who shall tell us who is the dragon." Every one looked at Candide, who, for her part, looked at the ceiling, as if seeking inspiration there. "The dragon is—is— "Come then, my child, thou knowest." "Is he not a dragon, then?" said Candide, opening eyes as blue as the sky, and quite as devoid of intelligence. "Little stupid one,—and the times I have told thee! What is it, then, that the glorious Revolution has destroyed?" She paused, and half a dozen arms went up eagerly, whilst as many voices clamoured: "I know!"—"No, ask me!"—"No, me, Citoyenne!"—"No, me!"—"Me!"