up at the facade of the parish church of Saint-Cyr. I talked there
with the sexton, who came to ring the angelus, and asked him for
information about the building, which seems to me fantastic and
incomplete. Then I passed through the vegetable-market, where some
women had already assembled. From there, crossing the place Misere, I
went as far as the mill of Landrole by the Pont aux Anes, where I
watched the ducks for five or six minutes, and the miller's men must
have noticed me. I saw the women going to wash; they are probably
still there. They made a little fun of me, and declared that I was not
handsome; I told them it was not all gold that glittered. From there,
I followed the long avenue to Tivoli, where I talked with the
gardener. Pray have these facts verified; and do not even arrest me,
for I give you my word of honor that I will stay quietly in this
office till you are convinced of my innocence."

These sensible words, said without the least hesitation, and with the
ease of a man who is perfectly sure of his facts, made some impression
on the magistrates.

"Yes, we must find all these persons and summon them," said Monsieur
Mouilleron; "but it is more than the affair of a day. Make up your
mind, therefore, in your own interests, to be imprisoned in the
Palais."

"Provided I can write to my mother, so as to reassure her, poor woman
--oh! you can read the letter," he added.

This request was too just not to be granted, and Joseph wrote the
following letter:--

"Do not be uneasy, dear mother; the mistake of which I am a victim
can easily be rectified; I have already given them the means of
doing so. To-morrow, or perhaps this evening, I shall be at
liberty. I kiss you, and beg you to say to Monsieur and Madame
Hochon how grieved I am at this affair; in which, however, I have
had no hand,--it is the result of some chance which, as yet, I do
not understand."

When the note reached Madame Bridau, she was suffering from a nervous
attack, and the potions which Monsieur Goddet was trying to make her
swallow were powerless to soothe her. The reading of the letter acted
like balm; after a few quiverings, Agathe subsided into the depression
which always follows such attacks. Later, when Monsieur Goddet
returned to his patient he found her regretting that she had ever
quitted Paris.

"Well," said Madame Hochon to Monsieur Goddet, "how is Monsieur
Gilet?"

"His wound, though serious, is not mortal,