At last _ma mere_ rose again from the seat she had taken, and went to the head of the staircase; but still there were voices to be heard, and this time, without coming back, she sat down with her pinched cheek leaning against the balusters, where she remained patiently listening for quite an hour, when she softly rose and whispered to Jean as she supported him; and then slowly and painfully the strange couple made their way down to the passage, where, after waiting for a few minutes, they crossed the empty court and stood in the dark entry of the opposite house. Late as it was--nearly twelve--the door stood open; but even if the old woman's catlike step and the slow painful shuffle of her son had been heard, they would have excited no attention, as stealthily she helped Jean along, until they stood at the head of the cellar-steps. "Ah!" hissed _ma mere_ as she kicked against something soft, "but it is that Bijou who has followed us.--Back, then!" she hissed, striking at the dumb brute, whose soft patter was now heard along the dark passage as the animal scuffled away. "Now, mind," whispered _ma mere_ as they descended slowly, while once Jean slipped and nearly dragged the old woman headlong to the bottom; but he saved himself by grasping the rough railing, and after recovering his panting breath another trial was made, and they stood at the bottom, when, feeling her way along, _ma mere_ led him till, still in the dark, they stood in the front cellar, where the water dripped hollowly into the tub. But the woman well knew her way; and, with one arm round her son, she helped him along to the arch, warned him of the step down, and so drew him into the back-cellar and along to the end, where she left him leaning against one of the bins while she stole softly back to the cellar-steps to listen for awhile before returning to strike a match and light her piece of candle, which she screened by holding it far into the bin.