But once again the sight of some guards made him retrace his steps, and he was compelled to go back and back in the direction of Paris, chased, forced towards the very fortifications whence he had started that morning.

It was now nearly three in the afternoon.

For more than two hours and a half he had been running.
At last he saw a soft, sandy ride for horsemen before him.

He crossed it, splashing through the mire left by the rain, and reached a little pathway, a delightful lovers' lane, as shady in summer as any arbour.

For some time he was able to follow it, concealed from observation, and with his hopes reviving.