{"id":"01KG8AN330VQN2RQ9D061FJBAJ","cid":"bafkreigr5gybc5m4p22kr4c664csz5ejt2l2uetuy7civsjfi256lgzjr4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":10234,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":10148,"text":"BOOK XVI.\r\n\r\nFIRST NIGHT OF THEIR ARRIVAL IN THE CITY.\r\n\r\n\r\nI.\r\n\r\nThe stage was belated.\r\n\r\nThe country road they traveled entered the city by a remarkably wide and\r\nwinding street, a great thoroughfare for its less opulent inhabitants.\r\nThere was no moon and few stars. It was that preluding hour of the night\r\nwhen the shops are just closing, and the aspect of almost every\r\nwayfarer, as he passes through the unequal light reflected from the\r\nwindows, speaks of one hurrying not abroad, but homeward. Though the\r\nthoroughfare was winding, yet no sweep that it made greatly obstructed\r\nits long and imposing vista; so that when the coach gained the top of\r\nthe long and very gradual slope running toward the obscure heart of the\r\ntown, and the twinkling perspective of two long and parallel rows of\r\nlamps was revealed--lamps which seemed not so much intended to dispel\r\nthe general gloom, as to show some dim path leading through it, into\r\nsome gloom still deeper beyond--when the coach gained this critical\r\npoint, the whole vast triangular town, for a moment, seemed dimly and\r\ndespondently to capitulate to the eye.\r\n\r\nAnd now, ere descending the gradually-sloping declivity, and just on its\r\nsummit as it were, the inmates of the coach, by numerous hard, painful\r\njoltings, and ponderous, dragging trundlings, are suddenly made sensible\r\nof some great change in the character of the road. The coach seems\r\nrolling over cannon-balls of all calibers. Grasping Pierre's arm, Isabel\r\neagerly and forebodingly demands what is the cause of this most strange\r\nand unpleasant transition.\r\n\r\n\"The pavements, Isabel; this is the town.\"\r\n\r\nIsabel was silent.\r\n\r\nBut, the first time for many weeks, Delly voluntarily spoke:\r\n\r\n\"It feels not so soft as the green sward, Master Pierre.\"\r\n\r\n\"No, Miss Ulver,\" said Pierre, very bitterly, \"the buried hearts of some\r\ndead citizens have perhaps come to the surface.\"\r\n\r\n\"Sir?\" said Delly.\r\n\r\n\"And are they so hard-hearted here?\" asked Isabel.\r\n\r\n\"Ask yonder pavements, Isabel. Milk dropt from the milkman's can in\r\nDecember, freezes not more quickly on those stones, than does snow-white\r\ninnocence, if in poverty, it chance to fall in these streets.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then God help my hard fate, Master Pierre,\" sobbed Delly. \"Why didst\r\nthou drag hither a poor outcast like me?\"\r\n\r\n\"Forgive me, Miss Ulver,\" exclaimed Pierre, with sudden warmth, and yet\r\nmost marked respect; \"forgive me; never yet have I entered the city by\r\nnight, but, somehow, it made me feel both bitter and sad. Come, be\r\ncheerful, we shall soon be comfortably housed, and have our comfort all\r\nto ourselves; the old clerk I spoke to you about, is now doubtless\r\nruefully eying his hat on the peg. Come, cheer up, Isabel;--'tis a long\r\nride, but here we are, at last. Come! 'Tis not very far now to our\r\nwelcome.\"\r\n\r\n\"I hear a strange shuffling and clattering,\" said Delly, with a shudder.\r\n\r\n\"It does not seem so light as just now,\" said Isabel.\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" returned Pierre, \"it is the shop-shutters being put on; it is the\r\nlocking, and bolting, and barring of windows and doors; the\r\ntown's-people are going to their rest.\"\r\n\r\n\"Please God they may find it!\" sighed Delly.\r\n\r\n\"They lock and bar out, then, when they rest, do they, Pierre?\" said\r\nIsabel.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, and you were thinking that does not bode well for the welcome I\r\nspoke of.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thou read'st all my soul; yes, I was thinking of that. But whither lead\r\nthese long, narrow, dismal side-glooms we pass every now and then? What\r\nare they? They seem terribly still. I see scarce any body in\r\nthem;--there's another, now. See how haggardly look its criss-cross,\r\nfar-separate lamps.--What are these side-glooms, dear Pierre; whither\r\nlead they?\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTDSWGP8QJ7MKTTPBN1C","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN330QQ5EDBT6D41151M0","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:58.464Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:25.911Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}