He had no difficulty in looking unconcerned; his thoughts were so full of Jeanne that he cared but little at this moment for any Bourbon king or for the destinies of France.
Now the two men reached the postern gate.

A couple of sentinels were standing by, but the gate itself was open, and from within there came the sound of bustle and of noise, of a good deal of swearing, and also of loud laughter.
The guard-room gave on the left of the gate, and the laughter came from there.

It was brilliantly lighted, and Armand, peering in, in the wake of Chauvelin, could see groups of soldiers sitting and standing about.
There was a table in the centre of the room, and on it a number of jugs and pewter mugs, packets of cards, and overturned boxes of dice.
But the bustle did not come from the guard-room; it came from the landing and the stone stairs beyond.
Chauvelin, apparently curious, had passed through the gate, and Armand followed him.

The light from the open door of the guard-room cut sharply across the landing, making the gloom beyond appear more dense and almost solid.

From out the darkness, fitfully intersected by a lanthorn apparently carried to and fro, moving figures loomed out ghost-like and weirdly gigantic.