ich had been made in the
streets of Paris.

The whole city seemed peopled with fantastic beings; silent shadows
were seen unpaving the streets and others dragging and upsetting great
wagons, whilst others again dug ditches large enough to ingulf whole
regiments of horsemen. These active beings flitted here and there like
so many demons completing some unknown labor; these were the beggars
of the Court of Miracles--the agents of the giver of holy water in the
Square of Saint Eustache, preparing barricades for the morrow.

Gondy gazed on these deeds of darkness, on these nocturnal laborers,
with a kind of fear; he asked himself, if, after having called forth
these foul creatures from their dens, he should have the power of making
them retire again. He felt almost inclined to cross himself when one of
these beings happened to approach him. He reached the Rue Saint Honore
and went up it toward the Rue de la Ferronnerie; there the aspect
changed; here it was the tradesmen who were running from shop to shop;
their doors seemed closed like their shutters, but they were only pushed
to in such a manner as to open and allow the men, who seemed fearful of
showing what they carried, to enter, closing immediately. These men were
shopkeepers, who had arms to lend to those who had none.

One individual went from door to door, bending under the weight of
swords, guns, muskets and every kind of weapon, which he deposited as
fast as he could. By the light of a lantern the coadjutor recognized
Planchet.

The coadjutor proceeded onward to the quay by way of the Rue de la
Monnaie; there he found groups of bourgeois clad in black cloaks or
gray, according as they belonged to the upper or lower bourgeoisie.
They were standing motionless, while single men passed from one group
to another. All these cloaks, gray or black, were raised behind by the
point of a sword, or before by the barrel of an arquebuse or a musket.

On reaching the Pont Neuf the coadjutor found it strictly guarded and a
man approached him.

"Who are you?" asked the man. "I do not know you for one of us."

"Then it is because you do not know your friends, my dear Monsieur
Louvieres," said the coadjutor, raising his hat.

Louvieres recognized him and bowed.

Gondy continued his way and went as far as the Tour de Nesle. There he
saw a lengthy chain of people gliding under the walls. They might be
said to be a procession of ghosts, for they were all wrapped in white
cl