"All right, let's inspect the Marais, I'm willing; perhaps we may meet somebody else. But we don't need to run any more, that don't help us any. Let's walk along quiet now, arm in arm." "Did I run just now?" "Oh, no! of course not! not any faster than a steam engine. I'm willing to go with you and help you in your search; for I'm your friend--and when anyone insults you, d'ye see, it makes me madder than if it was me. Bless my soul! a friend's a friend--that's enough for me. But that's no reason for your breaking my wind. Besides, you know, you can find things out much better by going slow than by running like a bullet. Look you, I'll give you a comparison. Have you ever been on the railroad?" "Yes; I went to Saint-Germain once, with Bastringuette." "Well, what did you see, what did you notice on the way?" "How do you suppose a man can notice anything when he's going like the wind?" "Exactly--that's what I'm coming at. That's like you--just now. How do you expect to see anything or find out anything in the street, when you're running like a horse with the bit between his teeth?" "I believe you're right; give me your arm, and we'll go slowly about our search in the Marais." The Marais is the oldest quarter of Paris, next to the Cité; despite the numerous changes, enlargements, and improvements which have been made in the capital, the Marais has retained its primitive aspect more nearly than any other quarter. There we can still find a large number of the old houses and mansions occupied by our ancestors. It is not surprising, therefore, that, as we stroll through that quarter, our imagination carries us back several centuries, and our memory recalls all those deeds of the olden time with which our childhood was entertained. For instance, if you have studied or read our history ever so little, you cannot pass through Rue des Tournelles without recalling the fact that one of the king's palaces once stood on that street; that Henri II caused lists to be constructed, reaching from the Bastille to the Palais des Tournelles, for the tourney in which he received his death wound; that it was in front of the Bastille that the celebrated duel took place in the year 1578, between Quélus, Livarot, and Maugiron on the one side, and Ribérac, Schomberg, and D'Entragues on the other. They fought at five o'clock in the morning; Maugiron and Schomberg, who were less than twenty years old, were killed on the spot; Ribérac and Quélus died of their wounds shortly after. At that time, the rage for duelling was carried to such a pitch that it not infrequently happened that a father acted as his son's second. Still, those were the days which are called, by common consent, the _good old time_.