Троє в човні крім собаки
Chapter 11
Eversincegreydawn,inthelowerofthetwoislands,justabovewherewearestanding,therehasbeengreatclamour,andthesoundofmanyworkmen. Thegreatpavilionbroughtthereyestereveisbeingraised,andcarpentersarebusynailingtiersofseats,while’prenticesfromLondontownaretherewithmany-colouredstuffsandsilksandclothofgoldandsilver.
Andnow,lo!downupontheroadthatwindsalongtheriver’sbankfromStainestherecometowardsus,laughingandtalkingtogetherindeepgutturalbass,ahalf-a-scoreofstalwarthalbert-men —Barons’men,these—andhaltatahundredyardsorsoaboveus,ontheotherbank,andleanupontheirarms,andwait.
Andso,fromhourtohour,marchupalongtheroadeverfreshgroupsandbandsofarmedmen,theircasquesandbreastplatesflashingbackthelonglowlinesofmorningsunlight,until,asfaraseyecanreach,thewayseemsthickwithglitteringsteelandprancingsteeds. Andshoutinghorsemenaregallopingfromgrouptogroup,andlittlebannersareflutteringlazilyinthewarmbreeze,andeverynowandthenthereisadeeperstirastheranksmakewayoneitherside,andsomegreatBarononhiswar-horse,withhisguardofsquiresaroundhim,passesalongtotakehisstationattheheadofhisserfsandvassals.
