It was here, perhaps, that letters
would be waiting for them from Rheims.
Marjorie had known Derby only among the greater towns, and neither this
nor the towns where she had stayed, night by night, during the journey,
had prepared her in the least for the amazing rush and splendour of the
City itself. A fine, cold rain was falling, and this, she was told, had
driven half the inhabitants within doors; but even so, it appeared to
her that London was far beyond her imaginings. Beneath here, in the deep
and narrow channel of houses up which they rode, narrowed yet further
by the rows of stalls that were ranged along the pathways on either
side, the lamps were kindling swiftly, in windows as well as in the
street; here and there hung great flaring torches, and the vast eaves
and walls overhead shone in the light of the fires where the rich
gilding threw it back. Beyond them again, solemn and towering, leaned
over the enormous roofs; and everywhere, it seemed to her fresh from the
silence and solitude of the country, countless hundreds of moving faces
were turned up to her, from doorways and windows, as well as from the
groups that hurried along under the shelter of the walls; and the air
was full of talking and laughter and footsteps. It meant nothing to her
at present, except inextricable confusion: the gleam of arms as a patrol
passed by; the important little group making its way with torches; the
dogs that scuffled in the roadway; the party of apprentices singing
together loudly, with linked arms, plunging up a side street; the hooded
women chattering together with gestures beneath a low-hung roof; the
calling, from side to side of the twisting street; the bargaining of the
sellers at the stalls--all this, with the rattle of their own horses'
feet and the jingling of the bits, combined only to make a noisy and
brilliant spectacle without sense or signification.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163