Some of the party, who were not good climbers, had been accommodated
with donkeys at the hotel, before starting for the galleries, but many
walked, and it was a long and somewhat straggling procession.
The galleries mentioned are long passageways, cut through the solid
rock, and pierced with portholes at regular intervals, so that the
gun-muzzles, which peer through them, can command town, bay, and
neutral ground. Faith, whose reverence for this old citadel grew every
minute, felt that the clatter of the donkey's heels, the gay calling
back and forth, and the cries of the children ought, in these dim
tunnels, to be hushed into awed silence. But no one else seemed so
impressed, though the men made measurements and discussed the labor and
expense of such enginery, as if it were a great achievement.
As they emerged she found herself close by Lady Moreham, also walking,
who remarked carelessly,
"You look solemn, Miss Hosmer."
"Do I? I think all this strength and power are wonderful, don't you,
my lady?"
"Yes, and awful! It oppresses me. When England lays her hand on
anything it is a heavy hand. The victim must yield, or die."
"And yet, surely our people are comfortable and wisely ruled? We are a
happy nation."
"Perhaps--of course. I was speaking of her in the abstract, merely.
But is it not true that the marked characteristic of all Englishmen is
tyranny? Don't they rule wherever they go? Aren't they always and
everywhere the dominant class--the oppressors? Watch the British
tourist in any far country.
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