dered. Come, I think there's a pretty penn'orth of news for
you,--and cheap, too, at the price!"

"Bras-Rouge arrested and the Chouette dead!" murmured Rodolph to
himself, in deep astonishment at the tidings. "Well, the vile old hag
deserved her fate, and poor Fleur-de-Marie is at least avenged!"

"So that is the state of things here," continued Anastasie. "As for M.
Cabrion and his devil's tricks, I'll tell you all about it. Oh, you
never knew such a bold howdacious willin as he is! But you shall
hear,--I'll go straight on with my story. But there never,--no, there
never was his feller for inperence! So when Mother Burette was took up,
and we heard how that M. Bras-Rouge, our principal lodger, was quodded
also, I says to my old boy, 'Alfred, darling,' says I, 'you must toddle
off to the landlord and let him know as M. Bras-Rouge is in the stone
jug.' Well, Alfred goes; but in about two hours' time back he comes--in
such a state!--such a state! White as a sheet and puffing like an ox!"

"Why, what was the matter?"

"I'm a-going to tell you. I suppose, M. Rodolph, you recollect the high
wall about ten steps from here? Well, my poor, dear, darling husband was
going along thinking of nothing, when, quite by chance, he just looked
upon this wall. And what do you think he saw written in great staring
letters with a piece of charcoal?--why, 'Pipelet and Cabrion!'--the two
names joined together by a sort of true-lover's knot. (Ah, it is that
true-lover's knot which sticks so tight in the gizzard of my poor old
chick!) That sight rather upset him; but still he tried to act like a
man and not mind it. So on he went. But hardly had he proceeded ten
steps farther when, on the principal entrance to the Temple, there again
were the same hateful words, 'Pipelet and Cabrion,' united as before!
Still he walked on; but at every turn he saw the same detestable writing
on the walls, doors, and even shutters of houses! Everywhere Pipelet
and Cabrion danced before his eyes, for ever bound in the same tender
tie of love or friendship! My poor dear Alfred's head began to turn
around, and his eyes to grow dizzy; all sorts of horrid objects seemed
to meet him and laugh him to scorn. He fancied the very people in the
streets were laughing at him. So, quite confused and ashamed, he pulled
his hat over his face, and took the road towards the Boulevards,
believing that the scamp Cabrion would have confined his abominations to
the Rue du Temple.