ten o'clock
Faintly there came to him the sound of singing from the cellar he had quitted , and he smiled slightly as he listened to the rousing chorus he knew so well . From the direction of the Palace a more sinister echo floated on the night air ; the unmistakable howl of anger , pain , and terror ; the noise that a pursued and stricken mob makes when driven by soldiers . The populace had evidently been engaged in its futile and dangerous task of demonstrating , and proclaiming its hunger , and the authorities were scattering it ; keeping it ever on the move . It was still early ; not yet ten o'clock , and a full moon shone over the city , unlighted otherwise . Drawing his cloak closer about him , Roland walked rapidly in an opposite direction to that from which the tumult of the rabble came , until he arrived at the wide Fahrgasse , a street running north and south , its southern end terminating at the old bridge . Along this thoroughfare lived the wealthiest merchants of Frankfort . Roland turned , and proceeded slowly towards the river , critically examining the tall , picturesque buildings on either hand , cogitating the question which of them would best answer his purpose .