Then, above the din of the populace, a gun boomed
out, then another, and another.
I sprang up at that, and, wondering what might be toward, I crossed
to my barred window and stood there listening. I overlooked the
courtyard of the jail, and I could see some commotion below, in
sympathy, as it were, with the greater commotion without.
Presently, as the populace drew nearer, it seemed to me that the
shouting was of acclamation. Next I caught a blare of trumpets,
and, lastly, I was able to distinguish above the noise, which had
now grown to monstrous proportions, the clattering hoofs of some
cavalcade that was riding past the prison doors.
It was borne in upon me that some great personage was arriving in
Toulouse, and my first thought was of the King. At the idea of such
a possibility my brain whirled and I grew dizzy with hope. The
next moment I recalled that but last night Roxalanne had told me
that he was no nearer than Lyons, and so I put the thought from me,
and the hope with it, for, travelling in that leisurely, indolent
fashion that was characteristic of his every action, it would be a
miracle if His Majesty should reach Toulouse before the week was
out, and this but Sunday.
The populace passed on, then seemed to halt, and at last the shouts
died down on the noontide air. I went back to my writing, and to
wait until from my jailer, when next he should chance to appear, I
might learn the meaning of that uproar.
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