poem to make the best possible impression on Catherine and the company, I told Noel he might do the reciting.  Never was anybody so delighted.  He could hardly believe that I was in earnest, but I was.  I said that to have them know that I was the author of it would be enough for me.  The boys were full of exultation, and Noel said if he could just get one chance at those people it would be all he would ask; he would make them realize that there was something higher and finer than war-lies to be had here.

But how to get the opportunity—­that was the difficulty.  We invented several schemes that promised fairly, and at last we hit upon one that was sure.  That was, to let the Paladin get a good start in a manufactured battle, and then send in a false call for him, and as soon as he was out of the room, have Noel take his place and finish the battle himself in the Paladin’s own style, imitated to a shade.  That would get great applause, and win the house’s favor and put it in the right mood to hear the poem.  The two triumphs together with finish the Standard-Bearer—­modify him, anyway, to a certainty, and give the rest of us a chance for the future.

So the next night I kept out of the way until the Paladin had got his start and was sweeping down upon the enemy like a whirlwind at the head of his corps, then I stepped within the door in my official uniform and announced that a messenger from General La Hire’s quarters desired speech with the Standard-Bearer.  He left the room, and Noel took his place and said that the interruption was to be deplored, but that fortunately he was personally acquainted with the details of the battle himself, and if permitted would be glad to state them to the company.  Then without waiting for the permission he turned himself to the Paladin—­a dwarfed Paladin, of course—­with manner, tones, gestures, attitudes, everything exact, and went right on with the battle, and it would be impossible to imagine a more perfectly and minutely ridiculous imitation than he furnished to those shrieking people.  They went into spasms, convulsions, frenzies of laughter, and the tears flowed down their cheeks in rivulets.  The more they laughed, the more inspires Noel grew with his theme and the greater marvels he worked, till really the laughter was not properly laughing any more, but screaming.  Blessedest feature of all, Catherine Boucher was dying with ecstasies, and presently there was little left of her but gasps and suffocations.  Victory?  It was a perfect Agincourt.

The Paladin was gone only a couple of minutes; he found out at once that a trick had been played on him, so he came back.  When he approached the door he heard Noel ranting in there and recognized the state of the case; so he remained near the door but out of sight, and heard the performance through to the end.  The applause Noel got when he finished was wonderful; and they kept it up and kept it up, clapping their hands like mad, and shouting to him to do it over again.