“_It is peace!_” he cried. “Open the windows! Let us hear! Let us see!” And at that moment every window on the Bowling Green was thrown open. Men were pouring from the houses into the street, as a deep harmonius anthem came rolling down Broadway, into the Bowling Green, an anthem of one glad note--“_Peace! Peace! Peace!_” Regardless of all warnings and entreaties, the judge went out. “The news will keep me warm,” he said; and as he hastily buttoned up his long coat he looked twenty years younger. “You need not be anxious about father to-night,” said Sappha to her mother. “He will take no harm, and, oh, how I wish I could go with him!” By this time every house in the neighbourhood was illuminated and open; the women in them calling and waving to each other. The forts were bellowing the news up and down the river; and for four hours thousands of men and women were constantly passing through the Bowling Green carrying torches and crying with jubilant voices the same glad word, “_Peace! Peace! Peace!_” And above all this joyful hubbub the bells of Trinity rang clear and strong, echoing between earth and heaven the same exulting song. Not until after midnight did the judge return home. He had been a sick man for a week. He was then quite well, full of hope, almost drunk with enthusiasm. Hot coffee was waiting for him, but he called for meat, and insisted on having it. “The doctor has nothing to do with my case to-night,” he said. “I know what I want, Carlita. I am hungry. I have spent ten years of life the past four hours. Glad of it--well spent are they! Give me meat and bread. Oh, then, I will take coffee, but it ought to be wine--the best wine in the world is not enough.” He was throwing off his coat as he spoke, and he then went to the roaring fire and spread out his wet feet to its warmth. His wife looked with terror at their condition. “I did not know they were wet, Carlita,” he said. “I never thought of my feet. Kouba, take off my shoes and stockings and get dry ones. My feet were too happy to be sick; they never gave me one twinge! Why, Carlita, I have walked miles to-night, and I am not tired.” “And you are so hoarse that you can scarcely whisper, Gerardus.” “Am I? Then I must have been shouting with the rest. I did not know it. Never mind, the news is worth the shout. Now my feet are dry and warm, give me my coffee, and something to eat; and I will talk to you--if I can.” “Did you see anything of Peter?” “I met him. He had been to mother’s, and he was coming for me.” “How did Peter hear so quickly?”