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On the north, the ditch which existed the whole length of the streets de l'Aumône, and Fossés-Louis-VIII, that is to say, from the river Robec at the east, to the rue de la Poterne at the west. From the latter point draw a line in a southern direction passing across the Mew-Market, the rue Massacre and the rue des Vergetiers, to the rue aux Ours and you will have the western limit.
I went from shop to shop, crossing in two strides the rotten four plank bridges thrown over the nauseous current of the "Eau de Robec." Heaven protect me! What a shock! At the end of a vault, which was crowded with articles of every description and which seemed to be the entrance to the catacombs of a cemetery of ancient furniture, I suddenly descried one of my most beautiful wardrobes.
But, one afternoon, about four o'clock, as I was sauntering slowly through a seemingly unattractive street, by which there ran a stream as black as the ink called "Eau de Robec," my attention, fixed for the moment on the quaint, antique appearance of some of the houses, was suddenly turned away by the view of a series of second-hand furniture shops, which succeeded one another, door after door.
The eastern limit is naturally marked out by the course of the Robec. The town maintained this boundary till the Xth century, the period of the establishment of Rollon, in this portion of Neustria to which the Normans gave their name. I have already said, that Rouen, was an important town under the Romans, and this truth is proved, by the fact.
I went from shop to shop crossing, in two strides, the four plank rotten bridges thrown over the nauseous current of the Eau de Robec. Heaven protect me! What a shock! One of my most beautiful wardrobes was suddenly descried by me, at the end of a vault, which was crowded with articles of every description and which seemed to be the entrance to some catacombs of a cemetery of ancient furniture.
The church, that is to say, the primitive chapel which was built on this spot, was one of those which were founded, about the middle of the VIIth century, by the illustrious archbishop saint Ouen. It was at that time very far out of the city, since the limits on this side of the town extended only as far as the streets de l'Aumône, and Robec, during the life-time of saint Ouen.
The Prince de Robec Montmorency, despairing of other methods, found means to penetrate into the dungeon of the criminal, and offering him a cup of poison, implored him to save them from disgrace. The Count d'Horn turned away his head, and refused to take it.
But one afternoon, about four o'clock, as I was sauntering slowly through a seemingly unattractive street, by which there ran a stream as black as the ink called "Eau de Robec," my attention, fixed for the moment on the quaint, antique appearance of some of the houses, was suddenly attracted by the view of a series of second-hand furniture shops, which followed one another, door after door.
They went to Belleville, which at that time was an excessively pretty place, as almost all the houses of any pretension had gardens and grounds. Robeccal had been extremely adroit in diverting suspicion and the observation of the people they encountered. He now knocked at a door in a wall half hidden by overhanging ivy. "Who is there?" called a woman's voice. "Robec and the kid," was the reply.
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