yet by the arches of the Pont Neuf which I have lived to see
built. Not far from me on my right--indeed within a stone's
throw--the bulky mass of the Louvre rose dark and shapeless
against the sky. Only a narrow open space--the foreshore--
separated me from the water; beyond which I could see an
irregular line of buildings, that no doubt formed the Faubourg
St. Germain.

I had been told that I should find stairs leading down to the
water, and boats moored at the foot of them, at this point.
Accordingly I walked quickly across the open space to a spot,
where I made out a couple of posts set up on the brink--
doubtless to mark the landing place.

I had not gone ten paces, however, out of the shadow, before I
chanced to look round, and discerned with an unpleasant eerie
feeling three figures detach themselves from it, and advance in a
row behind me, so as the better to cut off my retreat. I was not
to succeed in my enterprise too easily then. That was clear.
Still I thought it better to act as if I had not seen my
followers, and collecting myself, I walked as quickly as I could
down to the steps. The three were by that time close upon me--
within striking distance almost. I turned abruptly and
confronted them.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I said, eyeing them warily,
my hand on my sword.

They did not answer, but separated more widely so as to form a
half-circle: and one of them whistled. On the instant a knot of