"And she was so taken up with her own troubles that Pierre could not get from her any information as to how things had been going of late; whether many aristocrats had been seized, or whether many had fled. He only stopped her long list of grievances by saying he must go, and begging her to direct him. She did so, and then reverting to his own risk, she again begged him to be careful. "`Return if you can, and tell me how you get on. But do not talk more than you can help; above all, do not be persuaded to enter the taverns and take wine.' "`I never take wine,' said Pierre. "`The more risk then if you did. It would go to your head, and you might tell what is better untold. Good morning, little citizen,' she called out after him in a louder and rougher tone than was natural to her, but which Pierre understood to be for the benefit of a group of dissipated-looking men in blouses, who came sauntering along, their hands in their pockets, just at the moment. "He had no difficulty in finding his way to the Rue de Lille, nor, once there, in picking out, thanks to the exact landmarks Nanette had given him, the great wooden doors, or gates rather, enclosing the courtyard of the Hotel de Sarinet. Put even outside, in the street where he stood, he seemed to distinguish a deserted air about the place. At that early hour in the morning it would only have been natural for the doors to have been open, to have seen some sweeping or cleaning going on inside, and have heard the cheerful sounds of grooms brushing down their horses and rolling out the heavy carriages to be aired. But, on the contrary, there was no sound; all was appallingly silent, and the street itself seemed like a place of the dead. There was no one of whom he could have made inquiry, had he wished. So after an instant's hesitation Pierre lifted the heavy knocker attached to the little door leading into the porter's lodge, at the side of the great one, and let it fall with a loud rap. Then he waited; but there was no response, and again he knocked, again and yet again, waxing bolder with increasing anxiety, but always in vain. And after what seemed to him a great length of time--in reality a quarter of an hour or so--spent in that dreary waiting, he had at last to make up his mind to the fact, there was no one there--the house was entirely deserted! His first feeling was one of the bitterest disappointment; he could have sat down on the rough bit of pavement before the doors and burst into tears! He had felt so sure of finding them. His nature, hopeful like his mother's, did not prepare him for obstacles, and all through his journey he had been picturing to himself his arrival just in the nick of time to relieve the Countess's anxiety, and arrange for safely escorting her and her daughter through every danger to Valmont! But with a few minutes' reflections came other feelings besides disappointment. Where were they? A shudder ran