The doors swung open, and the Duke emerged. Below him, still with that
unimpaired distinctness of vision which seemed a part of his heightened
vitality, he saw a great gesticulating mass of people. They packed the
square so closely that their own numbers held them immovable, save for
their swaying arms and heads; and those whom the square could not
contain had climbed to porticoes, balconies and cornices, and massed
themselves in the neck of the adjoining streets. The handful of
light-horse who had escorted the Duke's carriage formed a single line at
the foot of the steps, so that the approach to the porch was still
clear; but it was plain that the crowd, with its next movement, would
break through this slender barrier and hem in the Duke.
At Odo's appearance the shouting had ceased and every eye was turned on
him. He stood there, a brilliant target, in his laced coat of
peach-coloured velvet, his breast covered with orders, a hand on his
jewelled sword-hilt. For a moment sovereign and subjects measured each
other; and in that moment Odo drank his deepest draught of life. He was
not thinking now of the constitution or its opponents. His present
business was to get down the steps and into the carriage, returning to
the palace as openly as he had come. He was conscious of neither pity
nor hatred for the throng in his path. For the moment he regarded them
merely as a natural force, to be fought against like storm or flood. His
clearest sensation was one of relief at having at last some material
obstacle to spend his strength against, instead of the impalpable powers
which had so long beset him.
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