being paid in advance. She distrusts me."

"Here is the wherewithal to pay."

Phoebus felt the stranger's cold hand slip into his a large piece of
money. He could not refrain from taking the money and pressing the hand.

"_Vrai Dieu_!" he exclaimed, "you are a good fellow!"

"One condition," said the man. "Prove to me that I have been wrong and
that you were speaking the truth. Hide me in some corner whence I can
see whether this woman is really the one whose name you uttered."

"Oh!" replied Phoebus, "'tis all one to me. We will take, the
Sainte-Marthe chamber; you can look at your ease from the kennel hard
by."

"Come then," said the shadow.

"At your service," said the captain, "I know not whether you are
Messer Diavolus in person; but let us be good friends for this evening;
to-morrow I will repay you all my debts, both of purse and sword."

They set out again at a rapid pace. At the expiration of a few minutes,
the sound of the river announced to them that they were on the Pont
Saint-Michel, then loaded with houses.

"I will first show you the way," said Phoebus to his companion, "I
will then go in search of the fair one who is awaiting me near the
Petit-Chatelet."

His companion made no reply; he had not uttered a word since they had
been walking side by side. Phoebus halted before a low door, and knocked
roughly; a light made its appearance through the cracks of the door.

"Who is there?" cried a toothless voice.

"_Corps-Dieu! Tete-Dieu! Ventre-Dieu_!" replied the captain.

The door opened instantly, and allowed the new-corners to see an old
woman and an old lamp, both of which trembled. The old woman was bent
double, clad in tatters, with a shaking head, pierced with two small
eyes, and coiffed with a dish clout; wrinkled everywhere, on hands and
face and neck; her lips retreated under her gums, and about her mouth
she had tufts of white hairs which gave her the whiskered look of a cat.

The interior of the den was no less dilapitated than she; there were
chalk walls, blackened beams in the ceiling, a dismantled chimney-piece,
spiders' webs in all the corners, in the middle a staggering herd of
tables and lame stools, a dirty child among the ashes, and at the back a
staircase, or rather, a wooden ladder, which ended in a trap door in the
ceiling.

On entering this lair, Phoebus's mysterious companion raised his mantle
to his very eyes. Meanwhile, the captain, swearing like a Saracen,
hastened