"I will go in that direction; I have no idea where that bridge is, but someone will tell me."
The first person whom Miretta addressed, on Rue Saint-Honoré, to ask for directions, seemed much surprised.
"Pont-aux-Choux, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed. "The deuce! it's a long way from here; it's outside of the city, beyond the Fossés Jaunes, between the Porte du Temple and Porte Saint-Antoine; you don't expect to go there to-night, I presume?"
"Pardon me, I do."
"And you are all alone! Beware! it's a lonely neighborhood, and very dangerous at night."
"I am not afraid; but please tell me which way I must go."
He directed her as well as he could, concluding with the usual phrase:
"When you get there, inquire again."
Miretta walked a long while; she was not sufficiently familiar with Paris to tell where she was, so that she did not know if she was approaching her destination.
Most of the shops were already closed; and the girl, remembering that she had money about her, regretted that she had not secured the assistance of a torchbearer or messenger, who would have guided her directly to the place to which she wished to go; but it was too late now to find any of those hard-worked men in the street.