Well, I love to close my eyes from time to time, and evoke the dear old
haunts from their ruins; to descend once more the perilous steeps of the
Rue St. Jacques, and to thread the labyrinthine by-streets that surround
the École de Médecine. I see them all so plainly! I look in at the
familiar print-shops--I meet many a long-forgotten face--I hear many a
long-forgotten voice--I am twenty years of age and a student again!

Ah me! what a pleasant time, and what a land of enchantment! Dingy,
dilapidated, decrepit as it was, that graceless old Quartier Latin,
believe me, was paved with roses and lighted with laughing gas.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE FETE AT COURBEVOIE.

"_Halte là_! I thought I should catch you about this time! They've been
giving you unconscionable good measure to-day, though, haven't they? I
thought Bollinet's lecture was always over by three; and here I've been
moralizing on the flight of Time for more than twenty minutes."

So saying, Müller, having stopped me as I was coming down the steps of
the Hôtel Dieu, linked his arm in mine, drew me into a shady angle under
the lee of Notre Dame, and, without leaving me time to reply, went on
pouring out his light, eager chatter as readily as a mountain-spring
bubbles out its waters.

"I thought you'd like to know about the Tapottes, you see--and I was