These streets were so dark, being lit but by some lantern
projecting here and there from the angle of a wall, or by the flare of
an oil-lamp under a shrine, that Odo, leaning eagerly out, could only
now and then catch a sculptured palace-window, the grinning mask on the
keystone of an archway, or the gleaming yellowish facade of a church
inlaid with marbles. Once or twice an uncurtained window showed a group
of men drinking about a wineshop table, or an artisan bending over his
work by the light of a tallow dip; but for the most part doors and
windows were barred and the streets disturbed only by the watchman's cry
or by a flash of light and noise as a sedan chair passed with its escort
of linkmen and servants. All this was amazing enough to the sleepy eyes
of the little boy so unexpectedly translated from the solitude of
Pontesordo; but when the carriage turned under another arch and drew up
before the doorway of a great building ablaze with lights, the pressure
of accumulated emotions made him fling his arms about his preceptor's
neck.
"Courage, cavaliere, courage! You have duties, you have
responsibilities," the abate admonished him; and Odo, choking back his
fright, suffered himself to be lifted out by one of the lacqueys grouped
about the door. The abate, who carried a much lower crest than at
Pontesordo, and seemed far more anxious to please the servants than they
to oblige him, led the way up a shining marble staircase where beggars
whined on the landings and powdered footmen in the ducal livery were
running to and fro with trays of refreshments.
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