"Oh, the big clock," said Jean, "and then let's climb the iron spire of the cathedral." Germaine wanted to see where poor Jeanne d'Arc had been put to death; the others were ready for anything. "Everywhere one sees the name of Jeanne d'Arc," said Marie. "This street is named after her, and last night we were in the Boulevard Jeanne d'Arc." "And just at the top of this same street," said Uncle Daboll, "we shall see the Tower of Jeanne d'Arc, where the poor girl was imprisoned during her mock trial in the great castle, of which only this one tower is left standing." They soon turned into a narrow street, and there was the great clock, built in a tower, under which runs the roadway itself. Another turning brought them to the Palais de Justice, with its big dormer windows elaborately carved in stone. A few steps more, and they were in the old market-place, and little Germaine with bated breath looked at the stone let into the pavement at her feet, which marks the spot where poor Jeanne bravely met her terrible death by fire. All about the place the market people were peddling their wares, bargaining and calling out the merits of their various vegetables and fruits and poultry, the scene not unlike what it may have been in those olden days when the Normans ruled. Our party could not, however, linger very long over memories of the "Maid," for Uncle Daboll hurried them away to see the great church of St. Ouen, with such large windows that it seems to have walls of glass, and its curious Portal of the Marmosets, all over which are carved little animals which look like ferrets. They passed the little church of St. Maclou, set like a gem in a tangle of streets that were little more than alleys. As Jean said, the tall, old houses seemed to be leaning over toward one another as if they were trying to knock their heads together. At one street corner there had been erected a triumphal arch which was surmounted by a facsimile of the statue of William the Conqueror, the original of which stands in the little Norman town of Falaise, where he was born. All French children know the history of this great Norman, who was an unknown boy in an obscure little village, but who in time sailed across what is now known as the English Channel, conquered England, and made himself King of England as well as Duke of Normandy. When they came to the cathedral, our party were glad to enter and rest awhile within the cool, lofty aisles and say a short prayer. Marie remembered her favourite St. Antoine and dropped two sous in the box at the foot of his statue, for the poor. While Uncle Daboll and Jean climbed up the iron spire, the rest of the party were taken by the "_suisse_" to see the chapels with their tombs and tapestries. The _suisse_ is an imposing person in gorgeous dress of black velvet and gold lace, a big three-cornered hat covered with gold braid, white silk stockings, shoes with big buckles, and he carries a tall gold-headed stock.