windows.  He thought that some house on fire excited these prolonged cries, and hastened to look toward the wing of the building occupied by his mother and sisters; but all appeared to sleep there, and the chimneys did not even send forth any smoke, to attest that its inhabitants were even awake.  He blessed Heaven for it; and, running to another window, he saw the people, whose exploits we have witnessed, hastening toward the narrow streets which led to the quay.

After examining this rabble of women and children, the ridiculous flag which led them, and the rude disguises of the men:  “It is some popular fete or some carnival comedy,” said he; and again returning to the corner of the fire, he placed a large almanac upon the table, and carefully sought in it what saint was honored that day.  He looked in the column of the month of December; and, finding at the fourth day of this month the name of Ste.-Barbe, he remembered that he had seen several small cannons and barrels pass, and, perfectly satisfied with the explanation which he had given himself, he hastened to drive away the interruption which had called off his attention, and resumed his quiet studies, rising only to take a book from the shelves of his library, and, after reading in it a phrase, a line, or only a word, he threw it from him upon his table or on the floor, covered in this way with books or papers which he would not trouble himself to return to their places, lest he should break the thread of his reveries.

Suddenly the door was hastily opened, and a name was announced which he had distinguished among those at the bar—­a man whom his connections with the magistracy had made personally known to him.

“And by what chance, at five o’clock in the morning, do I see Monsieur Fournier?” he cried.  “Are there some unfortunates to defend, some families to be supported by the fruits of his talent, some error to dissipate in us, some virtue to awaken in our hearts? for these are of his accustomed works.  You come, perhaps, to inform me of some fresh humiliation of our parliament.  Alas! the secret chambers of the Arsenal are more powerful than the ancient magistracy of Clovis.  The parliament is on its knees; all is lost, unless it is soon filled with men like yourself.”

“Monsieur, I do not merit your praise,” said the Advocate, entering, accompanied by a grave and aged man, enveloped like himself in a large cloak.  “I deserve, on the contrary, your censure; and I am almost a penitent, as is Monsieur le Comte du Lude, whom you see here.  We come to ask an asylum for the day.”

“An asylum! and against whom?” said De Thou, making them sit down.

“Against the lowest people in Paris, who wish to have us for chiefs, and from whom we fly.  It is odious; the sight, the smell, the ear, and the touch, above all, are too severely wounded by it,” said M. du Lude, with a comical gravity.  “It is too much!”

“Ah! too much, you say?” said De Thou, very much astonished, but not willing to show it.