The pigs that were out in the lanes were caught in the press and struggled desperately to get out of it, upsetting even strong men with their heavy bodies as they charged through the crowd, grunting and squealing.

A few people coming from the opposite direction, too, flattened themselves against the black walls and low, greasy doors, but there was not room even there, and they also were taken up by the throng and driven before, till the small crowd grew to a little multitude of miserable, curious, hungry, scrambling humanity, squeezing along the narrow way to get sight of the lady before she should reach the castle gate.
From time to time the tall old priest turned mildly and protested, trying to get more air and elbow room for Veronica.
"Gently, gently, my children!" he called to them.

"You will see your princess often, for she is come to stay with you." "Eh, uncle priest!" cried a rough young voice.

"That is fair and good, but who believes it ?" "Eh, who believes it ?" echoed a dozen voices, young and old.
Veronica laid her hand upon Don Teodoro's arm to steady herself as she trod upon the slimy stones.

She could not have stopped, for the crowd, extending far behind her in the dim street, would have pushed her down, but she turned her head as she walked and spoke in the direction of the people.