Madeleine's support was insufficient for me now; but I set my teeth like a flint, and commanded the pain I was in every time I set foot to the ground. Was it not alleviation enough to have her dear arm for my stay, and her tender hand wiping from my brow the drops forced forth by my suffering? Then we came to some steps. These gave me much trouble to descend, especially as we were so nearly in the dark, but Madeleine seemed to know them pretty well. "I have often been here already," whispered she, "only not after dark, and have laid in stores of many things necessary for our subsistence." We were now groping along a chill stone passage, and were presently brought up by a wall right in front, against which we violently hit our heads. "I fear I have missed the way," said Madeleine, in alarm. "Hark! I hear the children laughing. Nothing damps the spirits at their age." The next turn brought us to the entrance of a chamber, or rather den, for it had probably been built for wild beasts, and formerly tenanted by them. A ruddy fire burned in the middle, and circles of smoke escaped through crannies and fissures, for of course there was no chimney. A savory steam arose from a large black pot suspended over this fire, and round it was gathered a motley and unruly group, not Gabrielle and the children, but of tramps, gipsies, peddlers, and very likely thieves. Swarthy Morescoes, Basques, I know not how many nations, were there represented. They were singing, carousing, and making much noise. "Here's a pretty lady," cried a gipsy woman, as Madeleine shrank back affrighted. "Welcome, welcome!" cried one or two voices. "Come and make one of us." "Not so fast," said a dissentient voice. "There's a young man with her. How do we know he is not a spy?" "Good sir, I am lame on both feet," said I, and was turning away with Madeleine, both of us anxious to plunge into the darkness, out of their sight, when a threatening, swarthy man, of great strength, prevented our departure. "You are neither of you going," said he, defiantly, "till you give some account of yourselves and your object." "We are harmless people; we have only mistaken our way," interposed Madeleine. "Soho! Only mistaken your way? And how come harmless people to be abroad at this time of night, groping about among the vaults of Les Arènes?" Before there was time to answer, a tall, lean man in black, with a bottle in his hand, which he had just removed from his lips, came forward from a corner, and said. "Hold, there, enough has been said. I know this young man, and, I dare say, this young maiden. We are very good friends. Don't you remember me?" looking sharply at me. "Not exactly," said I, straining my memory. "Oh, come, don't deny it. Last time you had the best of it; this time I have. Don't you remember the Fair of Beaucaire?" "Yes, of course, sir," said Madeleine, readily, "and your beautiful needles and pins and pretty equipage."