Ralph found the atmosphere stifling in this place, which was grown
noisome now to wellnigh every sense. He forced his way out through the
swaying bodies and swinging arms of the occupants of the pit. As he
did so he was conscious, though he did not turn his head, that close
behind him, in the opening which he made in the crowd, his inevitable
"Shadow" pursued him.

The air breathed free and fresh outside. Ralph walked from St.
Leonard's Gate by a back lane to the Dam Side. The river as well as
the old town was illuminated. Every boat bore lamps to the masthead.
Lamps, too, of many colors, hung downwards from the bridge, and were
reflected in their completed circle in the waters beneath them.

The night was growing apace, and the streets were thronged with
people, some laughing, some singing, some wrangling, and some
fighting. Every tavern and coffee-house, as Ralph went by, sent out
into the night its babel of voices. Loyal Lancasterians were within,
doing honor to the royal message of that day by observing the spirit
while violating the letter of it.

Ralph had walked up the Dam Side near to that point at which the Covel
Cross lies to the left, when a couple of drunken men came reeling out
of a tavern in front of him. Their dress denoted their profession and
rank. They were lieutenants of the regiment which had been newly
quartered at the castle. Both were drunk. One was capering about in a
hopeless effort to dance; the other was trolling out a stave of the
ballad that was just then being sung at the corner of every street:--

The blood that he lost, as I suppose
(Fa la la la),