Directing his course by the shortest way, he passed through many of the narrow gloomy lanes of the Faubourg, and, crossing one of the bridges which joined the island in the middle of the Seine to the shore, he plunged in amongst that dingy accumulation of tall, dark, small-windowed houses, which lie behind the great cathedral of Notre Dame. In these streets, at the hour of which we speak, the twilight, which would have still been seen in the open country, existed not; and all was darkness, except where, here and there, citizens returning from their shops to their dwelling-houses, or persons of a higher class going on some expedition of pleasure or business, were seen finding their way along, preceded by a lantern or a torch; and also where, before the hotel of some of the old nobles of the court, who still lingered in that quarter, were to be seen a few torches fixed in sockets at the door. It was to none of these more lordly dwellings, however, that D'Aubin took his way; but, at a door which stood open in a tall, unlighted, gloomy-looking house; he sprang to the ground, and after giving his servants directions to take up their temporary abode in an inn, where he should find them in case of necessity, and some money wherewithal to provide themselves their evening meal, he entered the house, followed by his page and one armed attendant, and began mounting, in utter darkness, the long, steep, narrow stair. At the second story D'Aubin stopped, and by the little light that found its way from a lamp through a small lattice upon the staircase, he struck several hard blows with the hilt of his dagger against a massive unshapely oaken door, which stood on one side of the landing-place. Immediately after, a sound was heard within, and, the door opening, the Count was admitted, shading his eyes from the sudden glare of light, into a small ante-room or vestibule, where, stretched on benches or settles, were ten or eleven stout attendants, together with one of those large sort of vehicles which we are accustomed to call sedan-chairs, wherein the ladies of Paris were very much accustomed, at that time, to go from house to house, and one of which we have already described. The person who opened the door was a trim-looking serving-man, dressed somewhat in the garb of an inferior burgher of the town; and, conducted by this personage, D'Aubin was led on, leaving his groom behind him, but followed by the page. The next chamber into which he was led presented a different aspect, being a small octagon room, with the ceiling of black oak exquisitely carved, the walls beautifully painted and gilt, and the furniture as rich and elegant as the art and taste of that day could produce.