"Hang it," said Urbain, while running, "I didn't disguise myself as a woman to be pinched by all the pages and lackeys of this city. Men are the devil incorporate; I perceive now that it's more agreeable to wear breeches than petticoats, but tomorrow I shall obtain entrance to Blanche's dwelling. Come, courage--they'll leave me alone perhaps." And Urbain jumped over the puddles, wound among the streets, perspiring and suffocating in his corset, and under the false bosom with which the young servant had stuffed his chest. Turning down the streets at random as he came to them, in order to escape his pursuers, he did not know himself in what neighborhood he was. At last, not hearing anyone behind him, he stopped to take breath and recognize the place in which he stood. He had passed the bridges and had reached the great Pre-aux-Clercs, in which they had commenced to build houses and open streets; as they had done in the little Pre-aux-Clercs, which towards the end of the reign of Henri the Fourth was entirely covered with houses and gardens. "Good; here's the new street they call Rue de Verneuil," said Urbain to himself; "and this is the Chemin-aux-Vaches where they've built the Rue Saint-Dominique; I recognize it. But I'll rest for a minute or two, I'm too far from home to return there immediately--I can't walk any farther. Let's get my breath at least. This neighborhood's deserted, and, as night is far advanced, let's hope I shall make no more conquests." Urbain hoisted his skirts and seated himself on a stone. At the expiration of half an hour, feeling rested, he rose and took the way to his lodgings. He walked quietly along congratulating himself that he should meet no one else when suddenly, in passing by the Rue de Bourbon, he saw four men who were leaving it and who, on sight of him, barred the way. "Who goes there? So late--and the game is still rising?" "Upon my honor a charming meeting, it's a little country wench." "Better still. I'm very fond of peasants." "What the devil, marquis! a peasant who walks about Paris in the middle of the night. That's an innocence which seems to me tremendously adventurous." "Come, chevalier, your thoughts are always evil. I'll wager the poor child came to Paris for nothing but to sell her eggs." "Let her have come for what she will, she sha'n't return without the impress of my mustaches on her pretty lips." Urbain realized by the language and manners of these gentlemen that they were profligates of the higher classes. Unable to make his escape, for he was surrounded on every side, he tried to relieve himself of them by saying in a falsetto voice,-- "Gentlemen, leave me, I beg of you; I am not what you believe." But his prayers were unheeded; they pushed him, they surrounded him. Urbain, rendered impatient by these manners, saw no means of regaining his liberty save making himself known, and he cried in his natural voice,--