From the background Elizabeth-Jane watched the scene.  Some seats had been arranged from which ladies could witness the spectacle, and the front seat was occupied by Lucetta, the Mayor’s wife, just at present.  In the road under her eyes stood Henchard.  She appeared so bright and pretty that, as it seemed, he was experiencing the momentary weakness of wishing for her notice.  But he was far from attractive to a woman’s eye, ruled as that is so largely by the superficies of things.  He was not only a journeyman, unable to appear as he formerly had appeared, but he disdained to appear as well as he might.  Everybody else, from the Mayor to the washerwoman, shone in new vesture according to means; but Henchard had doggedly retained the fretted and weather-beaten garments of bygone years.

Hence, alas, this occurred:  Lucetta’s eyes slid over him to this side and to that without anchoring on his features—­as gaily dressed women’s eyes will too often do on such occasions.  Her manner signified quite plainly that she meant to know him in public no more.

But she was never tired of watching Donald, as he stood in animated converse with his friends a few yards off, wearing round his young neck the official gold chain with great square links, like that round the Royal unicorn.  Every trifling emotion that her husband showed as he talked had its reflex on her face and lips, which moved in little duplicates to his.  She was living his part rather than her own, and cared for no one’s situation but Farfrae’s that day.

At length a man stationed at the furthest turn of the high road, namely, on the second bridge of which mention has been made, gave a signal, and the Corporation in their robes proceeded from the front of the Town Hall to the archway erected at the entrance to the town.  The carriages containing the Royal visitor and his suite arrived at the spot in a cloud of dust, a procession was formed, and the whole came on to the Town Hall at a walking pace.

This spot was the centre of interest.  There were a few clear yards in front of the Royal carriage, sanded; and into this space a man stepped before any one could prevent him.  It was Henchard.  He had unrolled his private flag, and removing his hat he staggered to the side of the slowing vehicle, waving the Union Jack to and fro with his left hand while he blandly held out his right to the Illustrious Personage.

All the ladies said with bated breath, “O, look there!” and Lucetta was ready to faint.  Elizabeth-Jane peeped through the shoulders of those in front, saw what it was, and was terrified; and then her interest in the spectacle as a strange phenomenon got the better of her fear.

Farfrae, with Mayoral authority, immediately rose to the occasion.  He seized Henchard by the shoulder, dragged him back, and told him roughly to be off.  Henchard’s eyes met his, and Farfrae observed the fierce light in them despite his excitement and irritation.  For a moment Henchard stood his ground rigidly; then by an unaccountable impulse gave way and retired.  Farfrae glanced to the ladies’ gallery, and saw that his Calphurnia’s cheek was pale.