II
Now, while the countess was talking to Madame Thierry, and Julien to himself, Marcel Thierry was talking not far away with his uncle Antoine, the old bachelor, the ex-armorer, the rich man of the family.
Gentle reader—as they used to say at the time when these events took place—be kind enough to accompany us to Rue Blomet from the hôtel d'Estrelle on Rue de Babylone; skirting the garden wall for five minutes, passing in front of the Louis XIII. pavilion, then skirting the wall of another garden much larger than Madame d'Estrelle's, along a lane grass-grown on the edges, muddy and full of holes in the centre, destined at some time to be an extension of Rue de Babylone; then turning to the left and passing along another street in embryo to the corner of Rue Blomet, where stands a large
