ill soon alter our
direction." And the young girl jumped into the britzska, which was
admirably arranged for sleeping in, without scarcely touching the step.
"You are always right," said the music teacher, seating herself by the
side of her friend.

A quarter of an hour afterwards the postilion, having been put in the
right road, passed with a crack of his whip through the gateway of the
Barriere Saint-Martin. "Ah," said Louise, breathing freely, "here we are
out of Paris."

"Yes, my dear, the abduction is an accomplished fact," replied Eugenie.
"Yes, and without violence," said Louise.

"I shall bring that forward as an extenuating circumstance," replied
Eugenie. These words were lost in the noise which the carriage made in
rolling over the pavement of La Villette. M. Danglars no longer had a
daughter.

Chapter 98. The Bell and Bottle Tavern.

And now let us leave Mademoiselle Danglars and her friend pursuing their
way to Brussels, and return to poor Andrea Cavalcanti, so inopportunely
interrupted in his rise to fortune. Notwithstanding his youth, Master
Andrea was a very skilful and intelligent boy. We have seen that on
the first rumor which reached the salon he had gradually approached the
door, and crossing two or three rooms at last disappeared. But we have
forgotten to mention one circumstance, which nevertheless ought not
to be omitted; in one of the rooms he crossed, the trousseau of the
bride-elect was on exhibition. There were caskets of diamonds, cashmere
shawls, Valenciennes lace, English veilings, and in fact all the
tempting things, the bare mention of which makes the hearts of young
girls bound with joy, and which is called the "corbeille." [*] Now, in
passing through this room, Andrea proved himself not only to be clever
and intelligent, but also provident, for he helped himself to the most
valuable of the ornaments before him.

* Literally, "the basket," because wedding gifts were
originally brought in such a receptacle.

Furnished with this plunder, Andrea leaped with a lighter heart from the
window, intending to slip through the hands of the gendarmes. Tall and
well proportioned as an ancient gladiator, and muscular as a Spartan,
he walked for a quarter of an hour without knowing where to direct his
steps, actuated by the sole idea of getting away from the spot where if
he lingered he knew that he would surely be taken. Having passed through
the Rue Mont Blanc, guided by the ins