A dozen groups hurrying the same way sprang panic-stricken to the walls, or saved themselves in doorways.

He was up with them, he was beyond them! Another hundred yards, and he would see the Place.
And then, with a cry of rage, he drew rein a little, discovering what was before him.

In the narrow gut of the way a great black banner, borne on two poles, was lurching towards him.

It was moving in the van of a dark procession of priests, who, with their attendants and a crowd of devout, filled the street from wall to wall.

They were chanting one of the penitential psalms, but not so loudly as to drown the uproar in the Place beyond them.
They made no way, and Count Hannibal swore furiously, suspecting treachery.