over the city, changed gradually from blood-red to violet, and
from violet to black, as evening fell.

Passing within the gates and across first one bridge and then
another, we were astonished and utterly confused by the noise and
hubbub through which we rode. Hundreds seemed to be moving this
way and that in the narrow streets. Women screamed to one
another from window to window. The bells of half-a-dozen
churches rang the curfew. Our country ears were deafened. Still
our eyes had leisure to take in the tall houses with their high-
pitched roofs, and here and there a tower built into the wall;
the quaint churches, and the groups of townsfolk--sullen fellows
some of them with a fierce gleam in their eyes---who, standing in
the mouths of reeking alleys, watched us go by.

But presently we had to stop. A crowd had gathered to watch a
little cavalcade of six gentlemen pass across our path. They
were riding two and two, lounging in their saddles and chattering
to one another, distainfully unconscious of the people about
them, or the remarks they excited. Their graceful bearing and
the richness of their dress and equipment surpassed anything I
had ever seen. A dozen pages and lackeys were attending them on
foot, and the sound of their jests and laughter came to us over
the heads of the crowd.

While I was gazing at them, some movement of the throng drove
back Bure's horse against mine. Bure himself uttered a savage
oath; uncalled for so far as I could see. But my attention was
arrested the next moment by Croisette, who tapped my arm with his
riding whip. "Look!" he cried in some excitement, "is not that