She listened breathlessly to the sounds from the city, and now a distant
blare of trumpets drowned the dull roar of the ordnance and the sharp
rattle of the culverins.

The confused blending of many human voices reached her from beyond the
garden wall.

The road must be full of people. Now single shrill trumpet notes echoed
from afar amid the trombones and the dull roll of the drums, the noise
increasing every moment. From a large, old beech tree close to the wall,
into which a dozen lads had climbed, she already saw handkerchiefs waving
and heard the shouts of clear, boyish voices.

Sister Hyacinthe had just gone into the house, and like an illumination
the thought darted through Barbara's mind that the road could be seen
from the little summer house which the reverend owner of the castle
called his "frigidarium," because it was cool even during the warmest
summer day.

It was a small, towerlike building close to the garden wall, whose single
inner room was designed to imitate a rock cave. The walls were covered
with tufa and stalagmites, shells, mountain crystals, and corals, and
from the lofty ceiling hung large stalactites. From one of the walls a
fountain plashed into a large shell garlanded with green aquatic plants
and tenanted by several goldfish and frogs.

The single open window resembled a cleft in the rocks, and looked out
upon the road. Blocks of stone, flung one upon another without regard to
order, formed steps from which to look out of doors.