"He left here to assist at a tourney in Beauvoisis some time ago, and the poor fellow never returned.... His aged and infirm father died of grief at the disappearance of his son. Brave Jocelyn! I entered the University the year before he left it. He was the best and most courageous lad in the world.... He must have been killed at the tourney, or assassinated on his return to Paris. Highwaymen infest the roads." "No; he was not killed at the tourney of Nointel. The night after the passage of arms I saw him take his horse to return to Paris." "Are you from Beauvoisis?" "Yes," answered Caillet; and he added with a sigh: "Well, that young man is dead! Great pity! There are few like him who love Jacques Bonhomme." After a moment's silence the peasant resumed: "How can I manage to meet Marcel?" "By following me to the convent of the Cordeliers where he is to address the people after the funeral of Perrin Macé. Come with me." "Go ahead," said Caillet; "I shall follow you." "Come, we shall go out by the Coquiller gate; that's the shortest route." The old peasant walked in silence by the side of Rufin who sought to draw from him some words on the subject of his trip. But the serf remained impenetrable. Going out by the gate of St. Denis and following the streets of the suburbs, that were much less crowded than those of the city, Caillet and his guide had just left Traversine to enter Montmartre street when they heard the distant funeral chant of priests interspersed from time to time with plaintive clarion notes. The peasant noticed with surprise that as the chant drew nearer the residents along the streets closed and bolted their doors.