the larger houses were inhabited. Large placards, "a louer,"
on the gateways or the broken railings of the garden, set forth the
advantages of a handsome residence, situated between court and garden;
but the falling roofs and broken windows were in sad discordance with
the eulogy.

The unaccustomed noise of wheels, as we went along, drew many to the
doors to stare at us, and in the gathering groups I could mark the
astonishment so rare a spectacle as a cabriolet afforded in these
secluded parts.

"Is this the Rue Mi-Careme?" said the driver to a boy, who stood gazing
in perfect wonderment at our equipage.

"Yes," muttered the child,--"yes. Who are you come for now?"

"Come for, my little man? Not for any one. What do you mean by that?"

"I thought it was the commissary," said the boy.

"Ah, _sapperment!_ I knew we were in a droll neighborhood," murmured the
driver. "It would seem they never see a cabriolet here except when it
brings the _commissaire de police_ to look after some one."

If this reflection did not tend to allay my previous doubts upon the
nature of the locality, it certainly aided to excite my curiosity, and
I was determined to persist in my resolution of at least seeing the
interior of the "pension."

"Here we are at last," cried the driver, throwing down his whip on the
horse's back, as he sprang to the ground, and read aloud from a board
fastened to a tree, "'Pension Bourgeoise. M. Rubichon, proprietaire.'
Shall I wait for monsieur?"

"No. Take out that portmanteau and cloak; I'm not going back now."

A stare of most undisguised astonishment was the only reply he made, as
he took forth my baggage, and placed it at the little gate.

"You 'll be coming home at night," said he, at length; "shall I come
to fetch you? Not to-night," repeated he, in amazement. "Well, adieu,
Monsieur,--you know best; but I 'd not come a-pleasuring up here, if I
was a young fellow like you."

As he drove away, I turned to look at the building before me, which up
to this time I had not sufficiently noted. It was a long, two-storied
house, which evidently at an early period had been a mansion of no mean
pretension. The pilasters which ornamented the windows, the balustrades
of the parapet, and the pediment above the entrance, were still
remaining, though in a dilapidated condition. The garden in front showed
also some signs of that quaint taste originally borrowed from the Dutch,
and the yew-trees still preserved s