She watched them dwindle with
strange thoughts: her eyes fixed upon the scene, her mind still
glancing right and left on the overthrow of her life and hopes.
There was no one left in whom she might confide; none whose hand was
friendly, or on whom she dared to reckon for the barest loyalty.
With the fall of Gondremark, her party, her brief popularity, had
fallen. So she sat crouched upon the window-seat, her brow to the
cool pane; her dress in tatters, barely shielding her; her mind
revolving bitter thoughts.
Meanwhile, consequences were fast mounting; and in the deceptive
quiet of the night, downfall and red revolt were brewing. The
litter had passed forth between the iron gates and entered on the
streets of the town. By what flying panic, by what thrill of air
communicated, who shall say? but the passing bustle in the Palace
had already reached and re-echoed in the region of the burghers.
Rumour, with her loud whisper, hissed about the town; men left their
homes without knowing why; knots formed along the boulevard; under
the rare lamps and the great limes the crowd grew blacker.
And now through the midst of that expectant company, the unusual
sight of a closed litter was observed approaching, and trotting hard
behind it that great dignitary Cancellarius Greisengesang. Silence
looked on as it went by; and as soon as it was passed, the
whispering seethed over like a boiling pot.
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