Upon reaching Piccadilly they passed suddenly from the shadow and silence into the tumult and violent glare of the bonfires. Many a joke was levelled at them as they passed. One man wearing clerical attire, and who seemed completely intoxicated, approached them, declaring that by Jupiter they were deucedly pretty girls and he would have a kiss from each! In order to escape him the two women ran down St. James Street, where the crowd separated them from the enterprising clergyman. "A churchman!" panted Esther. "Can you believe it?" "No, my dear: it was the Duke of Norfolk; he whom they call 'Jockey Norfolk.' His mania is for disguising himself as a country curate, and running about town and making a fool of himself. When he is dead-drunk people profit by his condition to rob him." "What a horrible person!" "On the contrary, I assure you that when he is sober he is most amiable." In the neighborhood of St. James's the mob grew denser and more excited. There were beggar-women holding their new-born infants at arms' length, chairmen, sailors, thieves of all ages, recognizable by their skulking air and their sly, sharp glances, and finally a sprinkling of gentlemen, come hither after a good dinner to give vent to their political passions, or simply to amuse themselves by hustling the women and making a noise generally. The crowd laughed and vociferated, and threw stones at the windows of a grand mansion which belonged to one of the king's ministers. They applauded each successful shot, and howled over the failures. At last all the ministerial windows were broken except one, which remained intact, protected by two caryatides which advanced like sentinels, supporting the roof; and against this single window were all the efforts directed, as if the detested minister were standing behind the sash, or as if the crushing of that bit of glass were going to cover the enemies of England with confusion and terminate the war at a blow. The assailants excited each other by constantly crying, "Be bold, Tommy!" "At it again, Jack!" "Pluck up there, old boy!" Suddenly a figure bounded from the midst of the crowd, a long arm was extended, a stone whizzed through the air, and the window so long protected was shattered, and fell into a thousand pieces. A yell of triumph burst from a hundred throats, and every eye was turned upon the hero. He was a great, lank, awkward fellow with a pug-nose, a cold, impertinent eye, thin lips and blinking eyelids, who testified the satisfaction in his achievement simply by a fleeting smile of coarse disdain. "Is that you, William?" said Bella to him. "Fine occupation for Lord Chatham's son!" Young William Pitt turned sharply and bent his keen gaze upon the person who had thus apostrophized him. He recognized her and a swift flush stained his pallid cheeks. "Let me alone," he muttered; "I was only having some fun!" And walking off, he was soon lost in the crowd.