They stepped out of Le Bon Marché with the rest of the crowd.
The noise hit first. Footsteps. Voices. Carriages slowing at the curb. Vendors calling from the edges of the street. The wide facade of the building loomed above them, its stonework already half-lit by the fading sky.
People were gathering in front of it.
Not browsing. Not passing through. They stood facing the building, heads tilted up, attention fixed forward. Couples. Families. Workers still in their coats. Children pressed close to the front, held back by adults' hands.
Elisabeth slowed.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Napoleon II didn't answer right away. He guided her gently through gaps in the crowd, one hand raised again, signaling direction. People shifted without protest. Someone stepped aside. Someone else leaned back to let them pass.
They stopped near the center, far enough to see the entire facade.
Mounted above the main entrance was a large clock. It was almost six in the evening.
