darkness closed around, and then came the ringing of church bells and the distant beating of the military drums in the palace courtyard, as the women sat knitting, knitting. darkness encompassed them. another darkness was closing in as surely, when the church bells, then ringing pleasantly in many an airy steeple over france, should be melted into thundering cannon; when the military drums should be beating to drown a wretched voice, that night all potent as the voice of power and plenty, freedom and life. so much was closing in about the women who sat knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around a structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, counting dropping heads.