Aware that the streets of Paris were then far from safe after nightfall, and that the knife of the assassin was used as adroitly within sound of the bells of Notre Dame as on the banks of the Ebro--with my furred pelisse buttoned up, and my sabre under my arm, I hurried on, anxious to avoid all rencontres with chevaliers d'industrie and other vagrants, who from time to time, by the occasional light of the swinging lanterns, I could perceive lurking in the shadows of porches and projections of the ancient street. I soon became aware that two of these personages were dogging or accompanying me, on the opposite side of the way; increasing their pace if I quickened mine, and lingering when I halted or stepped short. Anxious to avoid brawls, for on that point the orders of the Duke of Wellington were alike stringent and severe, I continued to walk briskly forward, keeping a sharp eye to my two acquaintances, whose dusky figures seemed like shadows gliding along the opposite wall, for the cold and high night-wind had extinguished so many of the oil lanterns, that some of the streets branching off from the Boulevard du Temple and the Rue St. Martin, were involved in absolute darkness and gloom. I was somewhat perplexed after wandering for a considerable distance, to find myself on the margin of the Seine, which jarred against its quays, flowing on like a dark and waveless current, in which the twinkling lights of the Quai de Bourbon, and the gigantic shadows of the double towers of the church of Notre Dame were reflected. My followers had disappeared; but my uneasiness was no way diminished, being well aware that the clank of my spurs might mark my whereabouts; and I was conscious that the gorgeously-laced hussar pelisse and jacket of the Fifth were more than enough to excite cupidity. I shrunk back from the Seine, on thinking of the ghastly Morgue (with its rows of naked corpses spread like fish on leaden trays), and the five francs given by the police of Paris for every body found in the river at daybreak. A low whistle made me start. I turned round, and at that moment received a blow from a bludgeon, which would infallibly have fractured my left temple, had not my thick fur cap, with its long scarlet kalpeck, saved me. I reeled, and immediately found myself seized by four ruffians, who flung themselves upon me, and endeavoured to pinion my arms, and wrench from me my sabre, while they dragged me towards the edge of the Quai de la Grève. Strong, young, active, and exasperated, I struggled with them desperately, and succeeded in obtaining the hilt of my sabre, which I immediately unsheathed, for the fellow who had been endeavouring to drag it from my belt, grasped it by the sheath only; and an instant sufficed to level him on the pavement, with his jaw cloven through, and there he lay, yelling with rage and pain, and blaspheming in the style of the Faubourg St. Antoine. Upon this his companions fled.