milar arch and gate shut in the other end of the street,
and guards were at each gate. During the day these unfortunate people
were allowed to go into the city at their own risk; but by nightfall,
at the sound of the _couvre feu_, every one of them had to be within
his street, under heavy pains and penalties, which were rigorously
exacted.

On entering we found ourselves in a small and narrow street crowded
with people in yellow and grey gaberdines. All around us were dark
faces, bright black eyes, and hooked noses. Children swarmed, and lay
about in the filth and ordure of the pavement. My companion drew forth
a small flagon of scent, with which he liberally besprinkled both
himself and me, and picking our way with care we found ourselves before
the shop of Nathan the Jew. Here, whilst the Capuchin went farther on
to see his Jewess, I haggled with Nathan for an hour or more over the
price of the diamond, but could not persuade him to give more than
fifteen livres. This was absurd, and I was about to turn away in
disgust when the Capuchin returned. The bargaining was now taken up by
a master, and the short of it was that we made our way out of the Jews'
quarter with sixty-three livres in my purse. Three of these I gave
Grigole for his good offices, and on approaching the Rue d'Evreux the
holy man disappeared into an auberge, doubtless with a view to meditate
on further arguments for the conversion of his Miriam, whilst I
returned alone to the priory.

I was now fairly well supplied with money, but took the opportunity to
write to my friend at Antwerp, bidding him send two hundred crowns of
the sun for me to the care of Le Brusquet. This, with many misgivings,
I entrusted to the King's post. It, however, arrived in safety, and I
got my money.

After supper that evening, as I was returning to my chamber, I heard a
commotion in the courtyard, and at first thought that Montluc had
returned. On inquiry, however, I found that this was not so, but that
certain prisoners of importance had been brought to the priory. I
could not find out who they were, nor, indeed, did I try much, but took
myself off.

So far things were going well with me, and I felt myself justified in
the hope that the famine years were coming to an end. I saw the
sentence of the Chambre Ardente against me cancelled, and began to see
also fine castles in dreamland, and with all these I unconsciously
began to associate Diane. I laughed at my