They went down so steep a hill that Gilbert was nearly scraped off.
"Here we are," cried the dragoon captain.
Gilbert dropped and slipped out from beneath to hide behind a horseblock on the other side.
Young Taverney got out first, rang at a house doorbell, and returned to receive Andrea in his arms. The baron was the last out.
"Are those rascals going to keep us out all night?" he snarled.
At this the voices of Labrie and Nicole were heard, and a door opened. The three Taverneys were engulfed in a dark courtyard where the door closed upon them. The vehicle and attendants went their way to the royal stables.
Nothing remarkable was apparent on the house; but the carriage lamps had flashed on the next doorway, which had a label: "This is the mansion of the Armenonvilles." Gilbert did not know what street it was as yet, but going to the far end, the same the carriage had gone out of, he was startled to see the public fountain at which he drank in the mornings. Going ten paces up the street he saw the baker's shop where he supplied himself. Still doubting, he returned to the corner. By the gleam of a swinging lamp, he could read on a white stone the name read three days before when coming from Meudon Wood with Rousseau:
"Plastrière Street."
It followed that Andrea was lodged a hundred steps apart, nearer than she was to him at Taverney.
So he went to his own door, hoping that the latchet might not be drawn altogether within. It was pulled in, but it was frayed and a few threads stuck out. He drew one and then another so that the thong itself came forth at last. He lifted the latch, and entered, for it was one of his lucky days.