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Updated: June 27, 2025
The wide mouth of the present Boulevard Saint-Michel, a short way round the corner, had not yet been forced open to the exhibition of more or less glittering fangs; old Paris still pressed round the Palace and its gardens, which formed the right, the sober social antithesis to the "elegant" Tuileries, and which in fine, with these renewals of our young confidence, reinforced both in a general and in a particular way one of the fondest of our literary curiosities of that time, the conscientious study of Les Français Peints par Eux-Mêmes, rich in wood-cuts of Gavarni, of Grandville, of Henri-Monnier, which we held it rather our duty to admire and W. J. even a little his opportunity to copy in pen-and-ink.
I shall go away for a few weeks, for no doubt a journey will set me up again. July 2. I have come back, quite cured, and have had a most delightful trip into the bargain. I have been to Mount Saint-Michel, which I had not seen before. What a sight, when one arrives as I did, at Avranches towards the end of the day!
He had come for his valise, he said, which he was to take for him early next morning to the Saint-Michel station, and had been kept out late running after poachers. Arthur Rance had, indeed, intended to leave the chateau and, according to his habit, to walk to the station.
It will be useless for the traveller, when he has reached the top of the hill, to look for the ancient abbey of the Sainte-Trinité-du-Mont, the chapel of the priory of Saint-Michel, or the fortifications, in which the marquis of Villars withstood the attacks of Henry IVth; nothing of them remains at the present day, except two remnants of a wall, which threaten to fall on the traveller, who is imprudent enough to approach too near them.
The Donjon Inn has never existed for him! he hasn't had time! been too much engaged in paying court to the landlady of the Three Lilies at Saint-Michel. A bad fellow! There isn't an honest man who can bear him. Why, the concierges of the chateau would turn their eyes away from a picture of him!" "The concierges of the chateau are honest people, then?"
This sight revived the pain of his self-love; he fled. In the bitterness of his dramatic misadventure, everything which reminded him of the festival of that day irritated his wound and made it bleed. He was on the point of turning to the Pont Saint-Michel; children were running about here and there with fire lances and rockets.
A long chalk mark on a watchmaker's shop pointed to the Boulevard Saint-Michel, whither the young detective at once directed his steps. "The accomplice," said he to himself, resuming his meditation, "didn't succeed with that old-clothes dealer; but he isn't a man to be disheartened by one rebuff. He has certainly taken other measures. How shall I divine what they are in order to defeat them?"
History and romance-writers have consecrated the brown camlet coat, and the breeches of the same stuff, worn by Louis XI. His cap, decorated with leaden medallions, and his collar of the order of Saint-Michel, are not less celebrated; but no writer, no painter has represented the face of that terrible monarch in his last years, a sickly, hollow, yellow and brown face, all the features of which expressed a sour craftiness, a cold sarcasm.
The supposed murderer had crossed the Boulevard Saint-Michel, and had then taken to the Rue Monsieur-le-Prince, as Father Absinthe's dashes of the crayon proclaimed with many eloquent flourishes. "One circumstance reassures me," the young detective murmured, "May's going to this shop, and his consternation on finding that there was nothing for him there.
He became aware of this, hunted about, lost a good deal of time, and managed to discover that Sauverand had left by the Boulevard du Palais and joined a very pretty, fair-haired woman Florence Levasseur, obviously on the Quai de l'Horloge. They had both got into the motor bus that runs from the Place Saint-Michel to the Gare Saint-Lazare.
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