In trembling haste--for what might not befall the women while I fumbled with doors or wandered in passages ?--I flung it wide, and passing through it, found myself at the head of a narrow, mean staircase, leading, doubtless, to the servants' offices.

At this, and seeing no hindrance before me, I took heart of grace, reflecting that mademoiselle might have escaped from the house this way.

Though it would now be too late to quit the city, I might still overtake her, and all end well.

Accordingly I hurried down the stairs, shading my candle as I went from a cold draught of air which met me, and grew stronger as I descended; until reaching the bottom at last, I came abruptly upon an open door, and an old, wrinkled, shrivelled woman.
The hag screamed at sight of me, and crouched down on the floor; and doubtless, with my drawn sword, and the blood dripping from my chin and staining all the front of my doublet, I looked fierce and uncanny enough.

But I felt it was no time for sensibility--I was panting to be away--and I demanded of her sternly where they were.