It was well on towards the afternoon that we reached the Porte St. Michel, for we had started late, and Madame de Montal would on no account be parted from the sumpter horses, whose rate of progress was necessarily slow. M. Agrippa de Pavanes was at the gate, and as we filed in, I last of all, he looked hard at me; but I had other business on hand, and could not at the moment spare time to devote to this gentleman. It was clear, however, that he owed me a grudge over the affair of the King's letter. As it happened, we never met again; and Pavanes, if he still lives, must look upon his account with me as one of his unsettled scores. A few yards from the gate the road narrowed, and at the corner where the little Rue Poiree strikes off between two rows of tumble-down houses to join the Rue St. Jacques there was somewhat of a block. I had fallen back behind the sumpter horses, and halted for a moment, when I felt a hand rest lightly on my stirrup. I looked down, and, as I live, it was La Marmotte. "You!" I exclaimed. "In Paris!" "Monsieur," she said hurriedly, her face pale and haggard, "this meeting is not chance. Ask for me tomorrow at vespers at the shop of Barou the armourer in the Rue Tire Boudin. If you do not do this you will never cease to regret it. Fail not!" And she made as if to draw away. "A word," I said. "Trotto--does he live?" "Oh! he lives. Thanks, monsieur, a thousand thanks!" I had placed a piece of money in her hand, to take off any suspicion, and, rising to her part, she seized it, calling down blessings on me, and stepped back into the crowd. Our party had gone a little ahead, and I did not overtake them until almost opposite the Cordeliers, where I joined De Lorgnac. "That was a strange-looking beggar," he remarked. "She was no beggar, De Lorgnac; but of her I will tell you when you, Le Brusquet, and I are once more together." "I shall try to wait until then; it will be in less than an hour."