Love stories; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877) -- Fiction; Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction
Hardly had the last stroke died, quivering away through the still night
air, when from the direction of the great cathedral, opposite the very
square she named, there came a sudden and startling uproar, a rattling
volley of small-arms, a chorus of yells that made the welkin ring; then
a pandemonium of shots, shouts, and yells all together. Instantly,
people below could be seen rushing to close their shutters; the
chattering darkies disappeared around the corner, and we had sprung to
our feet and were listening excitedly to the clamor, which increased
with every moment. Pauline quickly stepped in-doors; her first thought
was for her lover, and she had gone to his door. Kitty, very pale, was
grasping the balcony rail and looking appealingly up in Harrod's face.
He and I gazed questioningly at each other. Full a minute we stood there
before any one spoke. Then Harrod pointed up Royal Street.
"Look! What is this?"
Leaning over the balcony I gazed eagerly up towards the white colonnade
of the St. Charles, glistening and brilliant in the moonlight. Coming
towards us in perfect silence at rapid, shuffling step, with the
moonbeams glancing from their sloping arms and glistening bayonets, was
a column of soldiers. Another moment and they were directly under us,
and with them, drawn by horses, was a large field-piece. I recognized
the uniforms at a glance: they were the police. Rapidly, almost at
double-quick, they filed under the balcony and marched on down the
street. We followed them with our eyes until they turned to the right,
some squares farther east, and waited further developments. The noise of
the firing, the shouts and yells had partially died away, but not
entirely. Suddenly there came a renewal of the clangor; the rattling
fusilade was resumed, then came a volley or two, delivered as though by
word of command; then a deafening roar that shook the windows.
"By Jove, Brandon, I can't stand this," said Colonel Summers. "I _must_
go and see what it means." Then came another tremendous bang. "That's a
twelve-pounder!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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