'We are going to the Faubourg St. Martin, monsieur, and there is no danger of the plague now.' Though I could not but feel more than grateful for the way in which the good fellow was labouring for me, I said nothing, but followed him as he entered the mist that rose from the river and clung heavily to its banks. It was, as Pantin had said, the cold hour, and all Paris was asleep. Above us the sky still swarmed with stars, though a pale band of light was girdling the horizon. Here and there in the heaving mist on the river we saw the feeble glimmer of a lanthorn that had survived through the night and still served to mark the spot where a boat was moored. All around us the outlines of the city rose in a brown silhouette; but the golden cross on the spire of Notre Dame had already caught the dawn and blazed like a beacon against the grey of the sky overhead. As the Pont au Change was the latest of the bridges to close, it was the earliest to open; but when we came there we had to cool our heels for half an hour or so before we could pass through; and by that time the city was already beginning to awake. I could not repress a slight shudder as we passed the dreary walls of the Chatelet, just as the guard was being changed at the gate, and thought by how lucky a chance I had escaped being a guest of M. de Breze. Once past the Chatelet we pushed on briskly, and by the time we had reached St. Jacques we were warm enough, despite the chillness of the morning. At a stall near the church, and hard by the Pont Notre Dame, Pantin purchased a quantity of vegetables, bidding me to keep a little ahead of him in future and guide him in this manner as far as I knew. Whilst he was filling his basket I turned up the Rue St. Martin, wondering what the notary's object could be in transforming himself into a street hawker. I went slowly, stopping every now and again to see if Pantin was following, and observed that he kept on the side of the road opposite to me, and ever and again kept calling out his wares in a monotonous sing-song tone. Thus far and for a space further I knew the road, and, observing that Pantin was able to keep me well in view, increased my pace until at last we came to the cross street near which I had met the jealous Mangel and his wife. Up the cross street I turned without hesitation, now almost facing the tall spire that had been my landmark, and I began to think I would be able to trace my way to the Toison d'Or without difficulty when I suddenly came to a standstill and faltered. For here there were half a dozen lanes that ran this way and that, and for the life of me I could not tell which was the one I had taken but a few hours before, so different did they look now to what they had appeared by moonlight. As I halted in a doubting manner Pantin hurried up, and, there being one or two near me, began to urge me to buy his cabbages. I made a pretence of putting him off, and then, the strangers having passed, I explained I had lost