A neighbouring corner sheltered a handful of priests who whispered together with gloomy faces.

Many stared at us as we passed, and some would have spoken; but I rode steadily on, inviting no converse.

Nevertheless at the north gate I got a rare fright; for, though it wanted a full half-hour of sunset, the porter was in the act of closing it.

Seeing us, he waited grumbling until we came up, and then muttered, in answer to my remonstrance, something about queer times and wilful people having their way.

I took little notice of what he said, however, being anxious only to get through the gate and leave as few traces of our passage as might be.
As soon as we were outside the town I fell back, permitting Fanchette to take my place.