He had a doubt whether all were speaking English.

Scraps floated to him, scraps like Pigeon English, like "nigger" dialect, blurred and mangled distortions.

He dared accost no one with questions.

The impression the people gave him jarred altogether with his preconceptions of the struggle and confirmed the old man's faith in Ostrog.

It was only slowly he could bring himself to believe that all these people were rejoicing at the defeat of the Council, that the Council which had pursued him with such power and vigour was after all the weaker of the two sides in conflict.