Louis was living and for the moment had escaped.
Escaped! But for how long?
We soon had our answer.

The moment we turned the corner by the river-side, the murmur of a multitude not loud but continuous, struck our ears, even as the breeze off the water swept our cheeks.

Across the river lay the thousand roofs of the Ile de la Cite, all sparkling in the sunshine.

But we swept to the right, thinking little of THAT sight, and checked our speed on finding ourselves on the skirts of the crowd.

Before us was a bridge--the Pont au Change, I think--and at its head on our side of the water stood the CHATELET, with its hoary turrets and battlements.