They reached their destination. Marcel ordered the cabman to stop; then he alighted, and Julie entered the courtyard of the hôtel D'Ormonde, on Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Germain, in a cab! That mansion belonged to the dowager D'Ormonde, who had married for her second husband the Marquis d'Estrelle, who had thereafter occupied her first husband's house with her. The dowager was very rich; her establishment had a grand air of ceremonious inhospitality: few servants, small outlay, a frigid, deathlike splendor. The house consisted of several wings, and the mistress's apartments were located on a rear courtyard planted with trees and secured from intrusion by a wicket at which Julie had to ring and wait; but, being certain that she would be admitted, and knowing that Marcel would have to return on foot unless she sent the cab after him at once, she dismissed the cabman when she saw that the wicket was about to be opened. Instead of opening it, the porter entered into a strange parley with her. Monsieur le marquis could not receive visitors because he was dead. The priests had come to administer the sacrament and to keep watch through the night; madame la marquise was closeted with them and the dead man. She gave _audience_ to nobody at such times. Julie insisted to no purpose, on the ground that she was a very near relation. The porter, leaving her outside, purposely or through inadvertence, went to make inquiries, and returned to say that no member of the household was allowed access to madame. As these negotiations had lasted a considerable time the Comtesse d'Estrelle understood perfectly well that some one had gained access to the marchioness, and that she refused to see her. Her duty was done, so she insisted no longer. She judged that her carriage, travelling much more rapidly than the cab, must have arrived: so she retraced her steps, crossed the outer courtyard and passed through the street gate, which was kept by the porter's wife and was closed behind her instantly, with indecent precipitation. A carriage was there; but Julie, notwithstanding her defective sight, saw at once that it was only a cab. Thinking that it was the one that had brought her, and that the driver had misunderstood her orders, or that Marcel had sent it back for her by way of precaution, she called the driver, who was sound asleep on his box. It was impossible to wake him except by pulling the skirt of his coat. They who remember what cab-drivers were forty years ago, can judge what they were forty years earlier than that. This one was so dirty that Julie hesitated to touch him with her gloved hand. She carefully gathered up her ample silk skirt to avoid brushing the dirty wheels. Never before had she been in such an embarrassing plight; she was afraid, too, to be alone in the street near midnight. The occasional passers-by stopped to stare at her, and she trembled lest, from good nature or malice, they should attempt to interfere in her affairs.