There was in the depth of his glance an indescribable melancholy serenity.In his left hand he carried a little bundle tied up in a handkerchief；in his right he leaned on a sort of a cudgel，cut from some hedge.This stick had been carefully trimmed，and had an air that was not too threatening；the most had been made of its knots，and it had received a coral-like head，made from red wax：
it was a cudgel，and it seemed to be a cane.
There are but few passers-by on that boulevard，particularly in the winter.
The man seemed to avoid them rather than to seek them，but this without any affectation.
At that epoch，King Louis XVIII.
went nearly every day to Choisy-le-Roi：it was one of his favorite excursions.
Towards two o'clock，almost invariably，the royal carriage and cavalcade was seen to pass at full speed along the Boulevard de l'Hopital.
This served in lieu of a watch or clock to the poor women of the quarter who said，'It is two o'clock；there he is returning to the Tuileries.'
And some rushed forward，and others drew up in line，for a passing king always creates a tumult；besides，the appearance and disappearance of Louis XVIII.
produced a certain effect in the streets of Paris.It was rapid but majestic.
This impotent king had a taste for a fast gallop；as he was not able to walk，he wished to run：
that cripple would gladly have had himself drawn by the lightning.
He passed，pacific and severe，in the midst of naked swords.
His massive couch，all covered with gilding，with great branches of lilies painted on the panels，thundered noisily along.
There was hardly time to cast a glance upon it.
In the rear angle on the right there was visible on tufted cushions of white satin a large，firm，and ruddy face，a brow freshly powdered a l'oiseau royal，a proud，hard，crafty eye，the smile of an educated man，two great epaulets with bullion fringe floating over a bourgeois coat，the Golden Fleece，the cross of Saint Louis，the cross of the Legion of Honor，the silver plaque of the Saint-Esprit，a huge belly，and a wide blue ribbon：it was the king.
Outside of Paris，he held his hat decked with white ostrich plumes on his knees enwrapped in high English gaiters；when he re-entered the city，he put on his hat and saluted rarely；he stared coldly at the people，and they returned it in kind.When he appeared for the first time in the Saint-Marceau quarter，the whole success which he produced is contained in this remark of an inhabitant of the faubourg to his comrade，'That big fellow yonder is the government.'
This infallible passage of the king at the same hour was，therefore，the daily event of the Boulevard de l'Hopital.
The promenader in the yellow coat evidently did not belong in the quarter，and probably did not belong in Paris，for he was ignorant as to this detail.
When，at two o'clock，the royal carriage，surrounded by a squadron of the body-guard all covered with silver lace，debouched on the boulevard，after having made the turn of the Salpetriere，he appeared surprised and almost alarmed.There was no one but himself in this cross-lane.He drew up hastily behind the corner of the wall of an enclosure，though this did not prevent M.le Duc de Havre from spying him out.
M.le Duc de Havre，as captain of the guard on duty that day，was seated in the carriage，opposite the king.
He said to his Majesty，'Yonder is an evil-looking man.'
Members of the police，who were clearing the king's route，took equal note of him：one of them received an order to follow him.
But the man plunged into the deserted little streets of the faubourg，and as twilight was beginning to fall，the agent lost trace of him，as is stated in a report addressed that same evening to M.le Comte d'Angles，Minister of State，Prefect of Police.
When the man in the yellow coat had thrown the agent off his track，he redoubled his pace，not without turning round many a time to assure himself that he was not being followed.
At a quarter-past four，that is to say，when night was fully come，he passed in front of the theatre of the Porte Saint-Martin，where The Two Convicts was being played that day.
This poster，illuminated by the theatre lanterns，struck him；for，although he was walking rapidly，he halted to read it.An instant later he was in the blind alley of La Planchette，and he entered the Plat d'Etain[the Pewter Platter]，where the office of the coach for Lagny was then situated.
This coach set out at half-past four.
The horses were harnessed，and the travellers，summoned by the coachman，were hastily climbing the lofty iron ladder of the vehicle.
The man inquired：——
'Have you a place？'
'Only one——beside me on the box，'said the coachman.
'I will take it.'
'Climb up.'
Nevertheless，before setting out，the coachman cast a glance at the traveller's shabby dress，at the diminutive size of his bundle，and made him pay his fare.
'Are you going as far as Lagny？'demanded the coachman.
'Yes，'said the man.
The traveller paid to Lagny.
They started.
When they had passed the barrier，the coachman tried to enter into conversation，but the traveller only replied in monosyllables.
The coachman took to whistling and swearing at his horses.
The coachman wrapped himself up in his cloak.
It was cold.The man did not appear to be thinking of that.
Thus they passed Gournay and Neuilly-sur-Marne.
Towards six o'clock in the evening they reached Chelles.
The coachman drew up in front of the carters'inn installed in the ancient buildings of the Royal Abbey，to give his horses a breathing spell.
'I get down here，'said the man.
He took his bundle and his cudgel and jumped down from the vehicle.
An instant later he had disappeared.
He did not enter the inn.
When the coach set out for Lagny a few minutes later，it did not encounter him in the principal street of Chelles.
The coachman turned to the inside travellers.
'There，'said he，'is a man who does not belong here，for I do not know him.
