number of boats, the
boatmen sleeping within them. Groping about in the darkness--such
noises as we made being fortunately drowned by the continual lap, lap
of the water against the sides of the boat, and their creaking and
groaning as they rubbed against each other--we at length found a small
empty boat tied to a large one. Favoured by darkness, we loosened the
knot, and, taking to the oars, crossed the river without being
perceived by a soul.

Once on the opposite bank we made the boat fast to some piles of wood
near the water's edge, and leaving a piece of silver for the boatman,
which I trust he found, we took the road to the Abbey of St. Germain.
Near here we found a retreat in the scaffolding of a house that was
being repaired. There we stayed until it was light, and about six in
the morning arrived at the inn, as though we were early travellers who
had entered Paris on the opening of the Porte St. Germain. In this
manner, favoured by luck, and by the exercise of caution, I bade
farewell to the Rue de Lavandieres, and gave Camus the slip, without
leaving any trace behind me.

The Chapeau Rouge was an inn mostly frequented by students, and in my
younger days I knew it well, though, to be sure, more than a dozen
years had passed since I last entered it. It was surrounded by a large
garden, enclosed by a high wall, and I could have chosen no better
place for my purpose, which was to lie close during the day, and, as
soon as horses were procured, to depart at dusk, about the hour of the
shutting of the gates.

As it happened, on this day there was scarce a soul at the inn, all the
usual customers having been drawn away to witness the execution of a
Portuguese named Gomez, who had been found guilty of sorcery,
witchcraft, and other crimes, and was to suffer in expiation on the
Place Maubert.

This ill wind, however, blew fair for me, as it left me undisturbed;
and sending Pierrebon to purchase or hire horses I awaited his return.

It was well on in the afternoon, and the sun being hot I was resting in
the shade of the garden wall, when from within a summer-house all
covered with roses, that stood near to me, I heard a lute string
touched by a master-hand, and a man's voice, full and clear, began to
sing "The Three Cavaliers." With a rush a hundred recollections of the
past came back to me, and I felt myself once more a heedless boy,
sitting on that very same seat where the singer was now, and singing
the sa