Here and there some personage had been pointed out to her by the trim,
merry gentleman who walked by her side with his sword swinging. (Anthony
went with his sister just behind, as they threaded their way through the
crowded streets, and the two men-servants followed.) She saw a couple of
City dignitaries in their furs, with stavesmen to clear their road; a
little troop of the Queen's horse, blazing with colour, under the
command of a young officer who might have come straight from Romance.
But she was more absorbed--or, rather, she returned every instant to the
man who walked beside her with such an air and talked so loudly and
cheerfully. Certainly, it seemed to her, his disguise was perfect, and
himself the best part of it. She compared him in her mind with a couple
of ministers, splendid and awful in their gowns and ruffs, whom they had
met turning into one of the churches just now, and smiled at the
comparison; and yet perhaps these were preachers too, and eloquent in
their own fashion.
And now, here was the Tower--the end of all things, so far as London was
concerned. Beyond it she saw the wide rolling hills, the bright reaches
of the river, and the sparkle of Placentia, far away.
"Her Grace is at Westminster these days," exclaimed the priest; "she is
moving to Hampton Court in a day or two; so I doubt not we shall be able
to go in and see a little. We shall see, at least, the outside of the
Paradise where so many holy ones have lived and died.
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