"Lay your hand on my forehead: it will bring me good luck," I said to Talma. Talma laid his hand on my head. "There--so be it," he said. "Alexandre Dumas, I baptize thee poet in the name of Shakespeare, of Corneille and of Schiller!... Go back to the provinces, go back to your office, and if you really have a vocation, the angel of Poetry will know how to find you all right wherever you be, will carry you off by the hair of your head like the prophet Habakkuk and will take you where fate determines." I took Talma's hand and tried to kiss it. "Why, see!" he said, "the lad has enthusiasm and will make something of himself;" and he shook me cordially by the hand. I had nothing more to wait for there. A longer stay in that dressing-room crowded with celebrities would have been both embarrassing and ridiculous: I made a sign to Adolphe, and we took our leave. I wanted to fling my arms round Adolphe's neck in the corridor. "Yes, indeed," I said to him, "be sure I shall return to Paris. You may depend upon that!" We went down by the little twisting staircase, which has since been condemned; we left by the black corridor; we went along the gallery then called the galerie de Nemours, and called to-day I know not what, and we came out on the place du Palais-Royal. "There, you know your way," said Adolphe,--"the rue Croix-des-Petits Champs, the rue Coquillière, the rue des Vieux-Augustins. Good-night; I must leave you: it is late, and it is a long way from here to the rue Pigale.... By the way, remember we lunch at ten and we dine at five." And Adolphe turned round the corner of the rue Richelieu and disappeared. It was indeed late; all lights were out, and only a few belated people were passing across the place du Palais-Royal. Although Adolphe had told it me, I did not in the least know my way, and I was extremely scared when I found myself alone. It must be confessed I felt very uneasy at being out in the streets of Paris at such a late hour; for I had heard heaps of stories of night attacks, robberies and assassinations, and, with my fifty sous in my pocket, I trembled at the thought of being plundered. A struggle went on in my mind between courage and fear. Fear won the day. I hailed a cab. The cab came up to me and I opened the door. "Monsieur knows it is past midnight?" said the driver. "Of course I know it," I replied; and I added to myself, "That is the very reason I am taking a cab." "Where is the country squire going?" "Rue des Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins."_ "What?" said the driver. I repeated it. "Is monsieur quite sure he wants to go there?" "The deuce I do!" "In that case, off we go!" And lashing his horses, at the same time clicking with his tongue as do all drivers, he urged them into a canter. Twenty seconds later, he pulled up, got down from his seat, and opened the door. "Well ...?" I asked. "Well, my country lad, we are at your destination, rue des Vieux-Augustins, _Hôtel des Vieux-Augustins"_