A few people coming from the
opposite direction, too, flattened themselves against the black walls
and low, greasy doors, but there was not room even there, and they also
were taken up by the throng and driven before, till the small crowd grew
to a little multitude of miserable, curious, hungry, scrambling
humanity, squeezing along the narrow way to get sight of the lady before
she should reach the castle gate.
From time to time the tall old priest turned mildly and protested,
trying to get more air and elbow room for Veronica.
"Gently, gently, my children!" he called to them. "You will see your
princess often, for she is come to stay with you."
"Eh, uncle priest!" cried a rough young voice. "That is fair and good,
but who believes it?"
"Eh, who believes it?" echoed a dozen voices, young and old.
Veronica laid her hand upon Don Teodoro's arm to steady herself as she
trod upon the slimy stones. She could not have stopped, for the crowd,
extending far behind her in the dim street, would have pushed her down,
but she turned her head as she walked and spoke in the direction of the
people. Her voice rang high and clear over their heads.
"I have come to live with you," she said, and they heard her even far
off. "It is true. You shall see."
"God render it you!" said a woman's voice. "May God make it true!"
"More than one of them are saying that to themselves," observed Don
Teodoro, as Veronica looked before her again, and walked on.
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