Then all was quiet for a space. In a little while the bombardment began again, as if in another part of the territory inclosed in the barricades.
And still there was not a soldier to be seen in the deserted streets near me.
At last I saw the red light beginning to touch the clouds along the eastern horizon with its crimson brush. The fateful day was dawning.
And then, in a little while, far away to the north, soft and dull at first, but swelling gradually into greater volume, a mighty sound arose; and through it I could hear bursts of splendid melody, rising and falling and fluttering, like pennons, above the tumult; and I recognized the notes of that grand old Scotch air, "The Campbells are Coming."
It was the defenders of society advancing with the swinging step of assured triumph.
Oh, it was a splendid sight! In all the bravery of banners, and uniforms, and shining decorations, and amidst the majestic and inspiriting outpouring of music, they swept along, the thousands moving as one. How they did contrast with that gloomy, dark, ragged, sullen multitude who had preceded them. And with them came, rattling along, multitudes of those dreadful machine guns--those cataracts of fire and death--drawn by prancing, well-fed, shining horses. And the lips of the gunners were set for carnage; for they had received orders _to take no prisoners!_ The world was to be taught a lesson to-day--a bloody and an awful lesson. Ah! little did they think how it would be taught!
In the gray light of the breaking day they came--an endless multitude. And all the windows were white with waving handkerchiefs, and the air stormy with huzzas and cries of "God bless you." And at the head of every column, on exuberant steeds, that seemed as if they would leap out of their very skins with the mere delight of living, rode handsome officers, smiling and bowing to the ladies at the windows;--for was it not simply holiday work to slay the _canaille_--the insolent _canaille_--the unreasonable dogs--who demanded some share in the world's delights--who were not willing to toil and die that others might live and be happy? And the very music had a revengeful, triumphant ring and sting to it, as if every instrument cried out: "Ah, we will give it to them!"