"Ha! ha! not a sign of a fiacre anywhere! Didn't I tell you that you'd arrive ahead of the others? You see, it's a whim of mine to pass everything on the road." I alighted from the cabriolet and looked all about; no sign of a carriage; we had lost it. I was frantic; and I had to listen to the appeals of my drunken driver, who wanted his _pourboire_. I was tempted to break his whip over his back; but I restrained myself and adopted the quickest method, which was to pay him and dismiss him. "When you want a good driver and a good horse, bourgeois, I'm your man, you see; you'll always find me on Place Taitbout, near Torchoni's--in the swell quarter. Ask for François; I'm as well known as the clown." "All right; I'll remember." The villain drove away at last, and I was left alone in a street which was entirely unfamiliar to me. It was getting late, and, as I had no desire to pass the night walking the streets, I tried to discover my whereabouts! After walking some distance I found myself at a spot which I recognized; I was on Rue des Martyrs, near the Montmartre barrier. Luckily, I lived on Rue Saint-Florentin, and to get there I had simply to walk down the hill. So I started, reflecting as I walked. It was a fitting occasion for reflection, and I had plenty of time. But my reverie was again interrupted by outcries. As the Quartier des Porcherons is not frequented by the most select society, and as I was nowise inclined to seek a third adventure at the Grand Salon, I quickened my pace, in order to avoid unpleasant encounters. But the noise continued; I heard cries and oaths and blows. Women were calling for the police, the magistrate, and all the constituted authorities of the quarter; men were pushing and striking one another and throwing one another into the gutter. Windows were thrown open, and heads appeared enveloped in nightcaps; they listened and laughed and conversed from window to window, asking what the trouble was; but they refrained from going down into the street, because it is not prudent to meddle in a quarrel after dark. The open windows and the faces surmounted by nightcaps reminded me of my little mishap on Rue des Rosiers. I no longer walked, but flew! fancying that I was pursued by fatality. But I heard someone running behind me; I turned into a street to the right; the footsteps followed me. At last I stopped to recover my breath, and in a moment my pursuer overtook me and grasped my arm. III THE FLOWER GIRL "O monsieur! save me! take me with you! protect me from that horrible Beauvisage, who swore he'd take me away from anyone. Just hear how he's beating Cadet Finemouche, who's a good fighter himself! My sister was no fool; she skipped as soon as the fists began to play, and left me to carry the whole thing on my back; and perhaps she'll go and tell my mother bad stories about me! I haven't anybody but you to help me, monsieur; if you won't, I'm a lost girl."