IT was at the corner of the Rue Gogard that I saw her first. You may, perhaps, recall the place, if you know Montauban. A great barrack of a building, time-stained and neglected, blocks the way as one turns into it from the Rue Pluvois. Before the house is a high wall, pierced by a single gateway. The door is of oak, four inches thick and heavily barred with iron,--Vincennes has few stronger,--wherefrom it may be seen that he who built the structure was a man who had his enemies. The door held my eye, as I turned the corner, by its very massiveness, and just as I reached it, it was flung open with a crash, and a girl rushed into the street. She stopped as she saw me standing there, and my h…
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