The men who lounged and wondered behind him followed partly with an astonishment at his brilliant uniform, that is to say, partly because of that instinct which makes us all follow one who looks like a madman, but far more because of that instinct which makes all men follow (and worship) any one who chooses to behave like a king.

He had to so sublime an extent that great quality of royalty--an almost imbecile unconsciousness of everybody, that people went after him as they do after kings--to see what would be the first thing or person he would take notice of.

And all the time, as we have said, in spite of his quiet splendour, there was an air about him as if he were looking for somebody; an expression of inquiry.
Suddenly that expression of inquiry vanished, none could tell why, and was replaced by an expression of contentment.

Amid the rapt attention of the mob of idlers, the magnificent green gentleman deflected himself from his direct course down the centre of the road and walked to one side of it.

He came to a halt opposite to a large poster of Colman's Mustard erected on a wooden hoarding.