"Now, my young friend," he said authoritatively, "we must be gone. Time is gold. After you." I bowed and preceded him. His very courtesy was sterner than the displeasure of another, and I already felt towards him a greater degree of awe than I should have quite cared to confess. The carriage was waiting in the courtyard. I placed myself with my back to the horses; Dr. Chéron flung himself upon the opposite seat; a servant out of livery sprang up beside the coachman; the great gates were flung open; and we glided away on the easiest of springs and the softest of cushions. Dr. Chéron took a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read; so leaving me to my own uncomfortable reflections. And, indeed, when I came to consider my position I was almost in despair. Moneyless, what was to become of me? Watchless and moneyless, with a bill awaiting me at my hotel, and not a stiver in my pocket wherewith to pay it.... Miserable pupil of a stern master! luckless son of a savage father! to whom could I turn for help? Not certainly to Dr. Chéron, whom I had been ready to accuse, half an hour ago, of having stolen my watch and purse. Petty larceny and Dr. Chéron! how ludicrously incongruous! And yet, where was my property? Was the Hôtel des Messageries a den of thieves? And again, how was it that this same Dr. Chéron looked, and spoke, and acted, as if he had never seen me in his life till this morning? Was I mad, or dreaming, or both? The carriage stopped and the door opened. "Hôtel Dieu, M'sieur," said the servant, touching his hat. Dr. Chéron just raised his eyes from the paper. "This is your first destination," he said. "I would advise you, on leaving here, to return to your hotel. There may be letters awaiting you. Good-morning." With this he resumed his paper, the carriage rolled away, and I found myself at the Hôtel Dieu, with the servant out of livery standing respectfully behind me. Go back to my hotel! Why should I go back? Letters there could be none, unless at the Poste Restante. I thought this a very unnecessary piece of advice, rejected it in my own mind, and so went into the hospital _bureau_, and transacted my business. When I came out again, Brunet took the lead. He was an elderly man with a solemn countenance and a mysterious voice. His manner was oppressively respectful; his address diplomatic; his step stealthy as a courtier's. When we came to a crossing he bowed, stood aside, and followed me; then took the lead again; and so on, during a brisk walk of about half an hour. All at once, I found myself at the Hôtel des Messageries. "Monsieur's hotel," said the doctor's valet, touching his hat. "You are mistaken," said I, rather impatiently. "I did not ask to be brought here. My object this morning is to look for apartments." "Post in at mid-day, Monsieur," he observed, gravely. "Monsieur's letters may have arrived." "I expect none, thank you."