nd she set out on a run along the quay towards the Greve, until she had
left the bridge far behind her. In the meanwhile, the child whom she was
dragging after her fell upon his knees; she halted breathless. Oudarde
and Gervaise rejoined her.

"That gypsy steal your child from you!" said Gervaise. "That's a
singular freak of yours!"

Mahiette shook her head with a pensive air.

"The singular point is," observed Oudarde, "that _la sachette_ has the
same idea about the Egyptian woman."

"What is _la sachette_?" asked Mahiette.

"He!" said Oudarde, "Sister Gudule."

"And who is Sister Gudule?" persisted Mahiette.

"You are certainly ignorant of all but your Reims, not to know that!"
replied Oudarde. "'Tis the recluse of the Rat-Hole."

"What!" demanded Mahiette, "that poor woman to whom we are carrying this
cake?"

Oudarde nodded affirmatively.

"Precisely. You will see her presently at her window on the Greve. She
has the same opinion as yourself of these vagabonds of Egypt, who play
the tambourine and tell fortunes to the public. No one knows whence
comes her horror of the gypsies and Egyptians. But you, Mahiette--why do
you run so at the mere sight of them?"

"Oh!" said Mahiette, seizing her child's round head in both hands,
"I don't want that to happen to me which happened to Paquette la
Chantefleurie."

"Oh! you must tell us that story, my good Mahiette," said Gervaise,
taking her arm.

"Gladly," replied Mahiette, "but you must be ignorant of all but your
Paris not to know that! I will tell you then (but 'tis not necessary for
us to halt that I may tell you the tale), that Paquette la Chantefleurie
was a pretty maid of eighteen when I was one myself, that is to say,
eighteen years ago, and 'tis her own fault if she is not to-day, like
me, a good, plump, fresh mother of six and thirty, with a husband and a
son. However, after the age of fourteen, it was too late! Well, she was
the daughter of Guybertant, minstrel of the barges at Reims, the same
who had played before King Charles VII., at his coronation, when he
descended our river Vesle from Sillery to Muison, when Madame the Maid
of Orleans was also in the boat. The old father died when Paquette was
still a mere child; she had then no one but her mother, the sister of
M. Pradon, master-brazier and coppersmith in Paris, Rue Farm-Garlin, who
died last year. You see she was of good family. The mother was a good
simple woman, unfortunately, and she taugh