For this was Paris, a city with gates and guards; the night a short August night.

Yet the loneliest manor in Quercy could scarcely have bristled with more pikes and musquetoons, on a winter's night and in time of war.
No doubt these signs impressed us all; and Croisette not least.

For suddenly I heard him stop, as he followed us up the narrow staircase, and begin without warning to stumble down again as fast as he could.

I did not know what he was about; but muttering something to Marie, I followed the lad to see.

At the foot of the flight of stairs I looked back, Marie and the servant were standing in suspense, where I had left them.