had only just appeared to him. His step woke the
echoes of the silent streets, but he met no one until he came to the
shop of a weaver, who was still at work. From him he inquired his way to
the mayor's house, and the way-worn recruit soon found himself seated
in the porch of that establishment, waiting for the billet he had asked
for. Instead of receiving it at once, he was summoned to the mayor's
presence, where he found himself the object of minute observation. The
young man was good-looking, and belonged, evidently, to a distinguished
family. His air and manner were those of the nobility. The intelligence
of a good education was in his face.

"What is your name?" asked the mayor, giving him a shrewd and meaning
look.

"Julien Jussieu."

"Where do you come from?" continued the magistrate, with a smile of
incredulity.

"Paris."

"Your comrades are at some distance," resumed the Norman official, in a
sarcastic tone.

"I am nine miles in advance of the battalion."

"Some strong feeling must be bringing you to Carentan, citizen recruit,"
said the mayor, slyly. "Very good, very good," he added hastily,
silencing with a wave of his hand a reply the young man was about to
make. "I know where to send you. Here," he added, giving him his billet,
"take this and go to that house, 'Citizen Jussieu.'"

So saying, the mayor held out to the recruit a billet, on which the
address of Madame de Dey's house was written. The young man read it with
an air of curiosity.

"He knows he hasn't far to go," thought the mayor as the recruit left
the house. "That's a bold fellow! God guide him! He seemed to have his
answers ready. But he'd have been lost if any one but I had questioned
him and demanded to see his papers."

At that instant, the clocks of Carentan struck half-past nine; the
lanterns were lighted in Madame de Dey's antechamber; the servants
were helping their masters and mistresses to put on their clogs, their
cloaks, and their mantles; the card-players had paid their debts, and
all the guests were preparing to leave together after the established
customs of provincial towns.

"The prosecutor, it seems, has stayed behind," said a lady, perceiving
that that important personage was missing, when the company parted in
the large square to go to their several houses.

That terrible magistrate was, in fact, alone with the countess, who
waited, trembling, till it should please him to depart.

"Citoyenne," he said, after