contrived as a loophole from which to command
the landing. As to the young girl's little
nest, I was quite sure that must be a charming
place. Indeed there could be no doubt of it.
If I had never come to conclusions less
hastily, my wisdom could be great. Birds
and flowers are the companions only of the
innocent; and, besides, even at a distance, I
could see the sparkle of a pair of delightful
eyes and the bloom of a wholesome cheek.

She did not look fixedly in one direction,
not she. She looked up and down— at the
sky and at the house opposite— the street
must have been invisible, and at last her
glance came in my direction, and passed
demurely on. I knew from all these symptoms
a great deal about her. She was a working-
girl, living by herself, industrious and
virtuous; and she had placed a table or a
chair beneath a window in order to be able to
enjoy the prospect. No wonder: the day
was so bright, the heavens were so blue.
How she had resisted the temptation of a
stroll to the Luxembourg I could not
imagine. It was absolutely Sunday; and
there she was putting her head out into the
sunshine from a little garret, instead of
fluttering in gay ribbons and thin indienne out
under the trees, where handsome young men
would be sure to admire her. In the enthusiasm
of the moment, if I had had my hat
upon my head, I should have taken it off.

Suddenly I heard a slight scream; and
she and the bearded man, who no doubt had
heard her, put their heads as far as they
could out of the window and looked to the
right and the left, up and down. I could not
make out what they were at; but my opinion
of the escaped convict was somewhat raised,
for his actions, incomprehensible as they were
to me, seemed excited by sympathy. Whilst
I was trying to understand this little incident,
something dashed past over my head into my
room, and fell with a small struggle on the
floor. It was a canary bird, which I soon
succeeded in catching with my hands. The
prisoner of the cage opposite had escaped and
taken refuge with me. Such an opportunity
was not to be lost. I should soon receive an
embassy; and take nothing but thanks. I
resolved to satisfy my curiosity, took up my
hat, and soon found myself on the staircase
of the house opposite. Having taken some
hundred and thirty steps, I reached a landing-
place, which would have been pitch dark had
not two open doors given a dim light. The
man with the red beard had left his den,
and was trying to console his pretty
neighbour for the loss of her canary bird.

With what delight I was welcomed may
easily be conceived. The young girl took the
little fugitive and pretended to beat it, as
mothers do their children when they have
escaped a great danger, and then tormented it
with kisses. The cage was unhooked, and .Mr.
Canary placed therein, with many threats if
he ever took such a liberty again. I
pretended to be very interested in all this and,
indeed, was so to a certain extent. But the
chief part of my attention was absorbed in
examining the personal appearance of the
escaped convict, who seemed by his manner
determined to take this opportunity of
striking up an acquaintance with his pretty
neighbour. He it was who took down the
cage, and carefully twisted a piece of wire to
prevent the door opening, and suggested that
too much sugar should not be given it, and
pretended that he had often been deliciously
pleased by its songs, and, in short, contrived
to occupy the time during which, under any
other circumstances, we should have been
compelled to retire. In about half an hour
we both said adieu, and I was about to
descend with my curiosity half satisfied,
when the man with red beard politely asked
me if I would not step into his petit reduit—
his little nook.

I had already observed that he was a tall
manly-looking young fellow, dressed in a
blouse— quite different from what I had
fancied him to be at a distance. There was
even something very benevolent in the
expression of his eyes; his mouth was entirely
concealed. His right hand was bound up
partially with a piece of black silk, and he
appeared to move it with difficulty. Although
my imagination tried to suggest that he
must have received a wound in effecting his
escape from the hulks, it was a total failure.
I felt that all my surmises must be wrong,
and could not make up my mind even to
hesitate at accepting his invitation.

The room was quite as neat as its neighbour:
at any rate, considering that it was
inhabited by a man. Little furniture, but
nicely arranged, a portrait or two on the
walls, some shelves with tools of various
kinds, an old flute leaning in a corner, a place
where a gun had evidently once hung up
before it was hidden or seized or thrown
away at the June insurrection.

All these items I rapidly noticed.
Monsieur Armand soon knocked to pieces all my
speculations. He was a watchmaker; but,
having severely burnt his hand in putting
out a fire some time before, had been
incapable of work. This was the real explanation
of the fact of his suddenly occupying the
chamber during the day. I asked him why
he looked so often out of the window; and
he told me that it was because he could see
the hill of Montmartre and a fine prospect of
Paris, which turned out to be true. I did
not mention my absurd suspicions, for they
would have hurt his feelings, suggesting the
idea that I thought he looked like a brigand.
He evidently thought far otherwise; and
when we afterwards began to talk of the
charming girl in the other room, he parted
the moustache from his lips, and said, with
an evident allusion to himself, that a handsome
fellow, un jeune homme bien, could not
have a better opportunity of beginning a