In the Name of Liberty

life of the thoroughfare, but animated by a sprinkling of shops and taverns. No. 38, like its neighbors, was a twisted, settled mass of stone and timber t

here the visitor, making an abrupt angle, passed into the purer air of a narrow court. Opposite, the passage took up its interrupted way to a farther court, more spacious, where a dirt-colored maple offered a ragged shelter and a few parched vines gripped the yellow walls. The tiled roofs were shrunk, the ridges warped, the walls cracking and bulging about the distorted windows. Along the roofs the dust and dirt had gradually accumulated and given birth to a few bla

incongruously blended. Seen from behind, her short, erect stature (she was an equal four feet), her skirt stopping half-way below the knees to reveal a pair of man's boots, gave the effect of a child of twe

dkerchief swinging from a staff across his shoulder evidently contained all his baggage, and proclaimed the definite purpose of the immigrant. The concierge regarded him with some curiosity. He was too old to be a truant scholar, and too much at e

outh in its destiny. A brilliant red neck-cloth was arranged with the abandon of pardonable vanity. A clear blue redingote, a cloth-of-gold vest, and a pair of drab knickerbockers completed a costume that had drawn many a smile. For while the coat was so

s engrossed in the task of slapping the dust from his garments, while

need, it was la Mère Cornich

you seek some on

young fellow answered frankly. "I see

favorably. "Maybe I have, and maybe

at his clothes were in d

my clothes are aristocrats. But hear me," as his listener began to scowl. "They were; but aristocr

," the concierge exclaimed fiercely, "

e added cautiously. "And now, ci

a step and ran her eyes over the prospective tenant. She made him repeat the question, and f

o years-in

a parlor on the second,

suit

ère Corniche hastened to increase

oo

e in ad

houlders, and with a comical gr

nt. "You swindler! You have taken an apartment at t

pres

who'd rob a p

cried, with a laugh. "One room, citoyenne

! Be off or I'l

ing his case hopeless

for your patriotic reception. Only direct me

oyen Marat?" cried the old woman,

is my

know

a letter

erent matter. She struggled silently between her avarice and the one adoration of

ge cried, thus brought to deci

us eye of his listener beheld the magic words, "To Jean Paul Marat." But if she had hoped to find on it

busines

ollowing up his good fortune, he added: "Now, citoyenne, don't yo

n he fell to scanning pensively the address, and

ied, and with a crook of her thumb she bade him

toy

ant-Eugène Arm

f-

then, with a smile, modified his step to

ping to meet them, filling the gloom

explained the old woman

ion was momentary. Into the second court Barabant followed with an air of interest that showed that, though perhaps familiar with the streets of Paris, he had never delved into its secr

h strange gates. So when at length they reached the end of their climb, and his guide, after much tugging, accomp

rom the doorway, rubbing her chin. "Eh,

rfe

n his survey of the court, his eye rested a moment on the window below, where, thr

this?" he asked; but his

thi

usting her generosity. "Only, when you see Citoyen Marat, tell him

again at the window. The truth was that, without hesitating to reflect on the insufficiency of the evidence, he had already built a romance on the sight of a white arm seen two stories below

n youth is sufficient to make a skeptic for an hour, when in turn he began to explore the window opposi

there appeared at the window the figure of a young girl, whose early toilet allowed

ction undisturbed; but perceiving him to be in the twenties, and with a certain air of distinction, she hastily withdrew, covering her throat with an