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It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Celeste he knew. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. ’ ‘You mean imbecile, don’t you?’ Gerald said, and turned his head to share the joke with Melusine. The mob now directed their attention to Newgate; and, from their threats, appeared determined to fire it.
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