Nothing made its appearance there.
The bailiff's four sergeants were still there, stiff, motionless, as painted statues.

All eyes turned to the estrade reserved for the Flemish envoys.

The door remained closed, the platform empty.

This crowd had been waiting since daybreak for three things: noonday, the embassy from Flanders, the mystery play.

Noonday alone had arrived on time.
On this occasion, it was too much.
They waited one, two, three, five minutes, a quarter of an hour; nothing came.