nd the little door that belongs to the alley; and, behold! in a
short time a blue hackney-coach, with its blinds drawn down, stopped at
the entrance to the house. 'There she is!' says I to Alfred. 'There is
his madame; let's keep back a bit for fear we frighten her away.' The
coachman got off his box and opened the door. Then we saw a female,
closely covered with a black veil, and carrying a muff; she had
apparently been crying, for she kept her handkerchief to her face; for
when the steps were let down, instead of alighting, she said some few
words to the driver, who, much surprised, shut the door up again."

"Then the lady did not get out?"

"No! she threw herself back in the coach and pressed her handkerchief
tightly to her eyes. I rushed out, and before the coachman had time to
get on his seat again, I called out, 'Hallo, there, coachy! are you
going back again?' 'Yes,' says he. 'Where?' says I. 'Where I came from,'
answers he. 'And where did you come from?' asks I again. 'From the Rue
St. Dominique, corner of the Rue Belle Chasse.'"

Rodolph started at these words. His dearest friend, the Marquis
d'Harville, who, as elsewhere stated, had been for some time labouring
under a deep melancholy none could penetrate, lived in the very place
just mentioned by Madame Pipelet. Could this mysterious female in the
blue _fiacre_ be the Marquise d'Harville? And was it from the lightness
and frivolity of her conduct that the mind of her excellent husband was
bowed down by doubts and misgivings? These painful suggestions crowded
on Rodolph's mind, but, although well acquainted with all the various
guests received by the marquise, he could recollect no one answering the
description of the commandant; added to which, any female might have
taken a hackney-coach from that spot without necessarily living in the
street. There was really nothing to identify the unknown of the blue
_fiacre_ with Madame d'Harville, and yet a thousand vague fears and
painful suspicions crossed his mind; his uneasy manner and deep
abstraction did not escape the porteress.

"What are you thinking of, sir?" asked she at length.

"I was wondering what could have induced the lady, after coming to the
very door, to change her mind so suddenly."

"There is no saying; some sudden thought,--dread or fear,--for we poor
women are but weak, cowardly things," said the porteress, assuming a
timid, frightened manner. "Well, I think if it had been myself now,
coming