The two as if by a common impulse halted their beasts at the mouth of the Rue du Coq, and listened.

The city was quiet on the surface, but there was a low deep undercurrent of sound, like the soft purring of a lion before he roars.

The sky was bright with stars.
There was no moon, but over the Isle was a faint tremulous glow.
"It is long past midnight," said Gaspard; "in a little it will be dawn." Suddenly a shot cracked out.

It was so sharp a sound among the muffled noises that it stung the ear like a whip-lash.

It came from the dark mass of the Louvre, from somewhere beyond the Grand Jardin.