apprehension for the morrow, it was the foundation of the independence and of the dignity of my whole life. Thus, on the 6th of October, 1845, I went down, never again to remount them in priestly dress, the steps of the St. Sulpice seminary. I crossed the courtyard as quickly as I could, and went to the hotel which then stood at the north-west corner of the esplanade, not at that time thrown open, as it is now. [Footnote 1: This has reference to a post of private tutor which was at my disposal for a time.] [Footnote 2: M. Dupanloup was no longer superior of the Petty Seminary of Saint Nicholas du Chardonnet.] FIRST STEPS OUTSIDE ST. SULPICE. PART I. The name of this hotel I do not remember; it was always spoken of as "Mademoiselle Céleste's," this being the name of the worthy person who managed or owned it. There was certainly no other hotel like it in Paris, for it was a kind of annex to the seminary, the rules of which were to a great extent in force there. Lodgers were not admitted without a letter of introduction from one of the directors of the seminary or some other notability in the religious world. It was here that students who wished for a few days to themselves before entering or leaving the seminary used to stay, while priests and superiors of convents whom business brought to Paris found it comfortable and inexpensive. The transition from the priestly to the ordinary dress is like the change which occurs in a chrysalis; it needs a little shade. Assuredly, if any one could narrate all the silent and unobtrusive romances associated with this ancient hotel, now pulled down, we should hear some very interesting stories. I must not, however, let my meaning be mistaken, for, like many ecclesiastics still alive, I can testify to the blameless course of life in Mlle. Céleste's hotel.