streets of Paris, with the cool night air fanning our brows. A
church hard by tolled the hour of two; and the strokes were
echoed, before we had gone many steps along the ill-paved way, by
the solemn tones of the bell of Notre Dame.

We were free and in the streets, with a guide who knew the way.
If Bezers had not gone straight from us to his vengeance, we
might thwart him yet. I strode along quickly, Madame d'O by my
side the others a little way in front. Here and there an oil-
lamp, swinging from a pulley in the middle of the road, enabled
us to avoid some obstacle more foul than usual, or to leap over a
pool which had formed in the kennel. Even in my excitement, my
country-bred senses rebelled against the sights, and smells, the
noisome air and oppressive closeness of the streets.

The town was quiet, and very dark where the smoky lamps were not
hanging. Yet I wondered if it ever slept, for more than once we
had to stand aside to give passage to a party of men, hurrying
along with links and arms. Several times too, especially towards
the end of our walk, I was surprised by the flashing of bright
lights in a courtyard, the door of which stood half open to right
or left. Once I saw the glow of torches reflected ruddily in the
windows of a tall and splendid mansion, a little withdrawn from
the street. The source of the light was in the fore-court,
hidden from us by a low wall, but I caught the murmur of voices
and stir of many feet. Once a gate was stealthily opened and two
armed men looked out, the act and their manner of doing it,
reminding me on the instant of those who had peeped out to
inspect us some hours before in Bezers' house. And once, nay
twice, in the mouth of a narrow alley I discerned a knot of men