It surprised me to find so many of the
streets no wider than this. But there was more breathing room wherever
two streets crossed and where several of them opened into some great
place. The crookedness and curvature of the streets constantly tempted me
to seek what might be beyond, around the corner, or the bend; and
whenever I sought, I found still other corners or bends hiding the
unknown, and luring me to investigate.
I had started westward from the inn, intending to proceed towards the
Louvre. But presently, having turned aside from one irregular street
into another, I did not know what was the direction in which I went.
The only noises that I heard were those caused by the wind, excepting
when now and then came suddenly a burst of loud talk, mingled mirth and
jangling, as quickly shut off, when the door of some cabaret opened and
closed. When I heard footsteps on the uneven pebble pavement of the
street, and saw approaching me out of the gloom some cloaked
pedestrian, I mechanically gripped the handle of my sword, and kept a
wary eye on the stranger,--knowing that in passing each other we must
almost touch elbows. His own suspicious and cautious demeanor and
motions reflected mine.
At night, in the narrow streets of a great town, there exists in every
footfall heard, every human figure seen emerging from the darkness, the
possibility of an encounter, an adventure, something unexpected.
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