The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love.
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