Till 1830 the name of La Greve (the Strand) had a meaning that is now lost. Every part of the river-shore from the Pont d’Arcole to the Pont Louis-Philippe was then as nature had made it, excepting the paved way which was at the top of the bank. When the river was in flood a boat could pass close under the houses and at the end of the streets running down to the river. On the quay the footpath was for the most part raised with a few steps; and when the river was up to the houses, vehicles had to pass along the horrible Rue de la Mortellerie, which has now been completely removed to make room for enlarging the Hotel de Ville. So the sham costermonger could easily and quickly run her truck down to the bottom of the quay, and hide it there till the real owner--who was, in fact, drinking the price of her wares, sold bodily to Asie, in one of the abominable taverns in the Rue de la Mortellerie--should return to claim it. At that time the Quai Pelletier was being extended, the entrance to the works was guarded by a crippled soldier, and the barrow would be quite safe in his keeping. Asie then jumped into a hackney cab on the Place de l’Hotel de Ville, and said to the driver, “To the Temple, and look sharp, I’ll tip you well.” A woman dressed like Asie could disappear, without any questions being asked, in the huge market-place, where all the rags in Paris are gathered together, where a thousand costermongers wander round, and two hundred old-clothes sellers are chaffering. The two prisoners had hardly been locked up when she was dressing herself in a low, damp entresol over one of those foul shops where remnants are sold, pieces stolen by tailors and dressmakers--an establishment kept by an old maid known as La Romette, from her Christian name Jeromette. La Romette was to the “purchasers of wardrobes” what these women are to the better class of so-called ladies in difficulties--Madame la Ressource, that is to say, money-lenders at a hundred per cent. “Now, child,” said Asie, “I have got to be figged out. I must be a Baroness of the Faubourg Saint-Germain at the very least. And sharp’s the word, for my feet are in hot oil. You know what gowns suit me. Hand up the rouge-pot, find me some first-class bits of lace, and the swaggerest jewelry you can pick out.--Send the girl to call a coach, and have it brought to the back door.” “Yes, madame,” the woman replied very humbly, and with the eagerness of a maid waiting on her mistress. If there had been any one to witness the scene, he would have understood that the woman known as Asie was at home here. “I have had some diamonds offered me,” said la Romette as she dressed Asie’s head. “Stolen?” “I should think so.” “Well, then, however cheap they may be, we must do without ‘em. We must fight shy of the beak for a long time to come.”