We turned as he spoke into a narrow street near the river, and
could see not far from us a mass of dark buildings which Bure
told us was the Louvre--the king's residence. Out of this street
we turned into a short one; and here Bure drew rein and rapped
loudly at some heavy gates. It was so dark that when, these
being opened, he led the way into a courtyard, we could see
little more than a tall, sharp-gabled house, projecting over us
against a pale sky; and a group of men and horses in one corner.
Bure spoke to one of the men, and begging us to dismount, said
the footman would show us to M. de Pavannes.

The thought that we were at the end of our long journey, and in
time to warn Louis of his danger, made us forget all our
exertions, our fatigue and stiffness. Gladly throwing the
bridles to Jean we ran up the steps after the servant. The thing
was done. Hurrah! the thing was done!

The house--as we passed through a long passage and up some steps
--seemed full of people. We heard voices and the ring of arms
more than once. But our guide, without pausing, led us to a
small room lighted by a hanging lamp. "I will inform M. de
Pavannes of your arrival," he said respectfully, and passed
behind a curtain, which seemed to hide the door of an inner
apartment. As he did so the clink of glasses and the hum of
conversation reached us.

"He has company supping with him," I said nervously. I tried to
flip some of the dust from my boots with my whip. I remembered
that this was Paris.