_All the young men ran to meet Léodgard, for it was really he who was approaching. As they drew near him they were struck by his pallor and by the sinister gleam of his eyes, which avoided theirs._ It was two o'clock on a cold, damp morning; the fine snow, which melted as soon as it touched the ground, made the streets slippery and dirty, and Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine,--then called Couture-Sainte-Catherine,--although it was one of the broadest streets in Paris, was as black and gloomy as any blind alley in the Cité to-day.…
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