Of the men who followed the bier one was a pale cadaverous-looking person, with about him some remnants of good looks, his features being not ill-formed, though on his face, too, there were the signs of drinking and evil-living in the form of blotches and a red nose that looked more conspicuous because of the lividness of his skin. This man was Wolfe Considine, a gentleman by birth, and of an ancient Irish family, yet now no better than a hanger-on to Robert St. Amande; a creature who obeyed his orders as a dog obeys its master's orders, and who was so vile and perjured a wretch that for many years, when out of the reach of Lord St. Amande, he had allowed it to be hinted that he was in truth the father of that lord's son, and, if not that, had at least been much beloved by Lord St. Amande's wife. In obedience, perhaps, to his master's orders he wore now no signs of mourning but, instead, rode in a red coat much passemented with tarnished gold lace, as was the case with his hat, and with his demi-peaked saddle quilted with red plush, while the twitter-boned, broken-winded horse he bestrode gave, as well as his apparel, but few signs that his employer bestowed much care upon him. The man who paced beside him was liveried as a servant and rode a better horse, and was doubtless there in attendance on him and the woman in the coach. Noticing the ominous and glowering looks of the beggars on the sidewalk as well as the contemptuous glances of the students standing by the steps of the French Church, Considine drew his horse nearer to the coach and spoke to the inmate thereof, saying:-- "I' faith, my lady, they seem to bear no good will to us judging by their booings and mutterings, for it cannot be to this poor dead thing that their growls are directed--_he_ was beloved enough by them, at any rate, so long as he had a stiver in his purse with which to treat them to a bowl of hypsy or a mug of ale." The woman in the hackney glanced at the beggars again with her cold, cruel eyes as he spoke, but ere she could reply, if indeed she intended to do so, she shrank back once more, seeing that from the crowd there was emerging an old woman, a hideous creature bent double with age, who leaned upon a stick and who shock as though with the palsy. "What want you, hag?" asked Considine, while as he spoke he pricked the horse he rode with the spur, as though he would ride over her. "To look upon the coffin of a gentleman," she answered, waving at the same time her crutch, or stick, so near to the animal's nostrils that it started back, almost unseating its rider. "To look upon the coffin of a gentleman, and not upon such scum as you and that thing there," pointing to the woman who had been addressed as "my lady." "Proceed," called out Considine to the driver of the bier. "Why tarry you because of this woman. Proceed, I say."