as good as
a mother to him. And he, the sweet cherub! it is as easy to cheat him as
to rock a new-born babe. He believes his pence will last for ever, and
he has eaten them through twice over in the past six months."

"Woman," said the sergeant, solemnly pointing to the Place de Greve, "do
you remember seeing, even from this spot, the fire in which they burnt
the Danish woman the other day?"

"What then?" said Jacqueline, in a fright.

"What then?" echoed Tirechair. "Why, the two men who lodge with us smell
of scorching. Neither Chapter nor Countess or Protector can serve them.
Here is Easter come round; the year is ending; we must turn our company
out of doors, and that at once. Do you think you can teach an old
constable how to know a gallows-bird? Our two lodgers were on terms with
la Porette, that heretic jade from Denmark or Norway, whose last cries
you heard from here. She was a brave witch; she never blenched at the
stake, which was proof enough of her compact with the Devil. I saw her
as plain as I see you; she preached to the throng, and declared she was
in heaven and could see God.

"And since that, I tell you, I have never slept quietly in my bed.
My lord, who lodges over us, is of a surety more of a wizard than a
Christian. On my word as an officer, I shiver when that old man passes
near me; he never sleeps of nights; if I wake, his voice is ringing
like a bourdon of bells, and I hear him muttering incantations in the
language of hell. Have you ever seen him eat an honest crust of bread
or a hearth-cake made by a good Catholic baker? His brown skin has been
scorched and tanned by hell-fires. Marry, and I tell you his eyes hold
a spell like that of serpents. Jacqueline, I will have none of those two
men under my roof. I see too much of the law not to know that it is well
to have nothing to do with it.--You must get rid of our two lodgers; the
elder because I suspect him; the youngster, because he is too pretty.
They neither of them seem to me to keep Christian company. The boy
is ever staring at the moon, the stars, and the clouds, like a wizard
watching for the hour when he shall mount his broomstick; the other old
rogue certainly makes some use of the poor boy for his black art. My
house stands too close to the river as it is, and that risk of ruin is
bad enough without bringing down fire from heaven, or the love affairs
of a countess. I have spoken. Do not rebel."

In spite of her sway in the house,