Now, as on a memorable evening when I
had crossed the street in a drizzling rain, and looked that way
with foreboding, there were two or three guards, in the
Cardinal's livery, loitering in front of the great gates. Coming
nearer, I found the opposite pavement under the Louvre thronged
with people, not moving about their business, but standing all
silent, all looking across furtively, all with the air of persons
who wished to be thought passing by. Their silence and their
keen looks had in some way an air of menace. Looking back after
I had turned in towards the gates, I found them devouring me with
their eyes.
And certainly they had little else to look at. In the courtyard,
where, some mornings, when the Court was in Paris, I had seen a
score of coaches waiting and thrice as many servants, were now
emptiness and sunshine and stillness. The officer on guard,
twirling his moustachios, looked at me in wonder as I passed him;
the lackeys lounging in the portico, and all too much taken up
with whispering to make a pretence of being of service, grinned
at my appearance. But that which happened when I had mounted the
stairs and came to the door of the ante-chamber outdid all.
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