Following the directions given him at the place where the diligence stopped, Israel was crossing the Pont Neuf, to find Doctor Franklin, when he was suddenly called to by a man standing on one side of the bridge, just under the equestrian statue of Henry IV.

The man had a small, shabby-looking box before him on the ground, with a box of blacking on one side of it, and several shoe-brushes upon the other.  Holding another brush in his hand, he politely seconded his verbal invitation by gracefully flourishing the brush in the air.

“What do you want of me, neighbor?” said Israel, pausing in somewhat uneasy astonishment.

“Ah, Monsieur,” exclaimed the man, and with voluble politeness he ran on with a long string of French, which of course was all Greek to poor Israel.  But what his language failed to convey, his gestures now made very plain.  Pointing to the wet muddy state of the bridge, splashed by a recent rain, and then to the feet of the wayfarer, and lastly to the brush in his hand, he appeared to be deeply regretting that a gentleman of Israel’s otherwise imposing appearance should be seen abroad with unpolished boots, offering at the same time to remove their blemishes.

“Ah, Monsieur, Monsieur,” cried the man, at last running up to Israel.  And with tender violence he forced him towards the box, and lifting this unwilling customer’s right foot thereon, was proceeding vigorously to work, when suddenly illuminated by a dreadful suspicion, Israel, fetching the box a terrible kick, took to his false heels and ran like mad over the bridge.

Incensed that his politeness should receive such an ungracious return, the man pursued, which but confirming Israel in his suspicions he ran all the faster, and thanks to his fleetness, soon succeeded in escaping his pursuer.

Arrived at last at the street and the house to which he had been directed, in reply to his summons, the gate very strangely of itself swung open, and much astonished at this unlooked-for sort of enchantment, Israel entered a wide vaulted passage leading to an open court within.  While he was wondering that no soul appeared, suddenly he was hailed from a dark little window, where sat an old man cobbling shoes, while an old woman standing by his side was thrusting her head into the passage, intently eyeing the stranger.  They proved to be the porter and portress, the latter of whom, upon hearing his summons, had invisibly thrust open the gate to Israel, by means of a spring communicating with the little apartment.

Upon hearing the name of Doctor Franklin mentioned, the old woman, all alacrity, hurried out of her den, and with much courtesy showed Israel across the court, up three flights of stairs to a door in the rear of the spacious building.  There she left him while Israel knocked.

“Come in,” said a voice.

And immediately Israel stood in the presence of the venerable Doctor Franklin.