“C’est bien! c’est bien!” cried another, raising his lantern to her blanched and beautiful face.

“You will let us all pass, monsieur?” she said persuasively:  “you will even be our escort a little way.  We will pay handsomely for your protection.”

Before he could answer her two or three fellows, more drunk than the rest, burst out with a proposition:  “She says they are not aristos, but republicans.  Let her prove it.  She cannot, if she be a true republican, refuse to kiss her fellow-patriots.”

I started and was about to knock the rascal down with the bag of diamonds.

But Hermione laid a restraining hand upon my arm.  “Gentlemen,” she said in clear tones and perfect French, “it is quite true that we are Americans and republicans.  We wish you well, and if it be for the good of France to be free under a republican form of government, no one can wish her prosperity more than ourselves.  But in our free country, messieurs, a woman is held free to give her kiss to whom she will, and according to our custom she gives it only to her betrothed or to her husband.”  Here stooping she picked up a little boy who had worked himself into the forefront of the crowd, and before I knew what she was about to do she had lifted him upon the cart beside her.  She looked a moment steadily at the men around her, holding the boy’s hand in both her own, then turning toward him and pressing her lips upon his face, she said, “Messieurs, I kiss your representative:  I cannot embrace a multitude;” and placed a piece of money in the gamin’s hand.

For a moment there was some doubt what view the crowd might take of this, but her beauty, her fearlessness, and, above all, the awe inspired by her womanliness, prevailed.  They shouted “Vive la Republique!”

“With all my heart,” replied Hermione.  “Now shout for me, gentlemen:  Vive la Republique des Etats Unis!”

They were completely won.  A French crowd is never dangerous or unmanageable till it has tasted blood, and besides it has—­or at least in those days it used to have—­sentiments, to which it was possible with a little tact to appeal successfully.

The opposition to our progress came to an end.  Mrs. Leare and old Mammy were helped back into the cart, and a man offered them some wine.  They brought some also to Hermione.  I pressed her to drink it, which she did to their good health, and giving back the glass placed in it a napoleon.  “Do me the favor, messieurs,” she said, “to drink your next toast to our American republic.”

Cheers rose for her.  There was no longer any talk of detaining us:  the old horse was urged forward.  Hermione took my arm.  We marched on, escorted by the rabble.  At the end of the village-street they all gave us an unsteady cheer and turned back to their wine-tables.  Hermione proceeded in silence a little farther.  Then I felt her slipping from my arm, and was just in time to catch her.