Good-morning." With this he resumed his paper, the carriage rolled away, and I found myself at the Hotel Dieu, with the servant out of livery standing respectfully behind me.
Go back to my hotel! Why should I go back?
Letters there could be none, unless at the Poste Restante.

I thought this a very unnecessary piece of advice, rejected it in my own mind, and so went into the hospital _bureau_, and transacted my business.

When I came out again, Brunet took the lead.
He was an elderly man with a solemn countenance and a mysterious voice.
His manner was oppressively respectful; his address diplomatic; his step stealthy as a courtier's.

When we came to a crossing he bowed, stood aside, and followed me; then took the lead again; and so on, during a brisk walk of about half an hour.

All at once, I found myself at the Hotel des Messageries.
"Monsieur's hotel," said the doctor's valet, touching his hat.
"You are mistaken," said I, rather impatiently.