Crossing the Seine by the bridge St. Michel and following the Quai, St. Hilaire remembered an unfrequented way to the house in the Rue d'Arcis. From the Quai on the left was a blind alley that ended at a row of houses. Through one of these houses had been cut an arched passage to the street beyond. The passageway came out on the other side almost directly opposite number seven, and offered a tempting short-cut. St. Hilaire walked quietly up the alley and had almost reached the farther end, when a door on the opposite side opened and a woman came out. The lateness of the hour and the signs of timidity which the woman showed, caused St. Hilaire to stop in the entrance to the passageway and look back to observe her actions. She peered first down the street cautiously, as if to see that there were no passers on the Quai, then up at the windows of the houses opposite to assure herself that she was unobserved from that quarter. Satisfied as to both of these points, she closed the door noiselessly, and hurriedly passed down the street. She was, however, not destined to reach the Quai unnoticed by any other eyes than St. Hilaire's, for she had not gone fifty paces when a party of four men, talking in loud voices, crossed the street on the Quai. At sight of them the woman stopped short and hesitated. The four also stopped and looked at her. One of them called out to her. Evidently frightened she turned, and crossing the street hurried back. To St. Hilaire's surprise, she passed by the house from which she had recently come, and made straight for the passageway where he stood. The four men gave chase, one of them overtaking her before she had reached the entrance. He placed his hand upon her arm, while she cried and struggled to free herself. The hood fell over her shoulders, and in the light from a lantern, hung upon a projecting crane from one of the houses, St. Hilaire recognized Madame d'Arlincourt. The exertion to free herself from the man's grasp had caused her hair to fall down upon her shoulders. Her blue eyes had a wild look like those of a person whose mind is strained almost to madness. She fought fiercely for her freedom. A dove striking its pinions against a lion's paw could have been able to effect its release as quickly as the poor little countess from the huge hand that held her. St. Hilaire was as gallant a gentleman as ever drew a sword, or raised a lady's fingers to his lips. On the instant, he forgot his own danger and the cause of his flight, and stepped forward into the circle of light. "How now, citizen? What have you to do with this young citizeness?" he cried out in distinct tones. In his surprise at St. Hilaire's sudden appearance, the man loosened his grasp upon Madame d'Arlincourt's shoulder. With a cry she flew instantly to St. Hilaire's side for protection. "Defend me, sir, oh, save me from them!" she cried, catching hold of his arm.