“Oh, monsieur, a little patience; we are going to turn round the Rue Pagavin, and get into the Rue Montmartre--you will see what a fine street that is.” “As if I do not know it.” “Well, so much the better; I need not lose time in showing you its beauties, and I will lead you at once into a pretty little street.” Indeed, after going a few steps down the Rue Montmartre, they turned to the right. “This,” said Rémy, “is the Rue de la Gypecienne, or Egyptienne, which you like; often called by the people the Rue de la Gyssienne, or Jussienne.” “Very likely; but where are we going?” “Do you see that little church?” said Rémy. “How nicely it is situated; I dare say you never remarked it before.” “No, I did not know it.” “Well, now that you have seen the exterior, enter and look at the windows--they are very curious.” There was such a pleased smile on the young man’s face, that Bussy felt sure there must have been some other reason for making him enter than to look at the windows which it was too dark to see. The chapel was lighted, however, for service, and Rémy began examining a fresco of the Virgin Mary, which was a continual source of complaint to the women who frequented the church, as they said that it attracted the attention of the young shopkeepers away from them. “You had some other object in bringing me here than that I should admire the St. Marie, had you not?” “Ma foi! no.” “Then let us go.” “Wait a moment; the service is finishing.” “Now let us go,” said Bussy; “they are moving;” and he walked to the door. “At least take some holy water.” Bussy obeyed, and Rémy making a sign to a woman who stood near, she advanced, and Bussy grew suddenly pale, for he recognized Gertrude. She saluted him and passed on, but behind her came a figure which, although closely veiled, made his heart beat fast. Rémy looked at him, and Bussy knew now why he had brought him to this church. Bussy followed the lady, and Rémy followed him. Gertrude had walked on before, until she came to an alley closed by a door. She opened it, and let her mistress pass. Bussy followed, and the two others disappeared. It was half-past seven in the evening, and near the beginning of May; the air began to have the feeling of spring, and the leaves were beginning to unfold themselves. Bussy looked round him, and found himself in a little garden fifty feet square, surrounded by high walls covered with vines and moss. The first lilacs which had begun to open in the morning sun sent out their sweet emanations, and the young man felt tempted to think that so much perfume and warmth and life came to him only from the presence of the woman he loved so tenderly.