Baussiere
rode on.

One denier, cried the order of mercy--one single denier, in behalf of
a thousand patient captives, whose eyes look towards heaven and you for
their redemption.

--The Lady Baussiere rode on.

Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly
holding up a box, begirt with iron, in his withered hands--I beg for the
unfortunate--good my Lady, 'tis for a prison--for an hospital--'tis for
an old man--a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretyship, by fire--I
call God and all his angels to witness--'tis to clothe the naked--to
feed the hungry--'tis to comfort the sick and the broken-hearted.

The Lady Baussiere rode on.

A decayed kinsman bowed himself to the ground.

--The Lady Baussiere rode on.

He ran begging bare-headed on one side of her palfrey, conjuring her by
the former bonds of friendship, alliance, consanguinity, &c.--Cousin,
aunt, sister, mother,--for virtue's sake, for your own, for mine, for
Christ's sake, remember me--pity me.

--The Lady Baussiere rode on.

Take hold of my whiskers, said the Lady Baussiere--The page took hold of
her palfrey. She dismounted at the end of the terrace.

There are some trains of certain ideas which leave prints of themselves
about our eyes and eye-brows; and there is a consciousness of it,
somewhere about the heart, which serves but to make these etchings the
stronger--we see, spell, and put them together without a dictionary.

Ha, ha! he, hee! cried La Guyol and La Sabatiere, looking close at each
other's prints--Ho, ho! cried La Battarelle and Maronette, doing
the same:--Whist! cried one--ft, ft,--said a second--hush, quoth
a third--poo, poo, replied a fourth--gramercy! cried the Lady
Carnavallette;--'twas she who bewhisker'd St. Bridget.

La Fosseuse drew her bodkin from the knot of her hair, and having traced
the outline of a small whisker, with the blunt end of it, upon one side
of her upper lip, put in into La Rebours' hand--La Rebours shook her
head.

The Lady Baussiere coughed thrice into the inside of her muff--La Guyol
smiled--Fy, said the Lady Baussiere. The queen of Navarre touched her
eye with the tip of her fore-finger--as much as to say, I understand you
all.

'Twas plain to the whole court the word was ruined: La Fosseuse had
given it a wound, and it was not the better for passing through all
these defiles--It made a faint stand, however, for a few months, by the
expiration of which, the Sieur De Croix, fin