' camp! Police, to burn the witches!' The
gypsies were gone. It was pitch dark. They could not be followed. On the
morrow, two leagues from Reims, on a heath between Gueux and Tilloy, the
remains of a large fire were found, some ribbons which had belonged to
Paquette's child, drops of blood, and the dung of a ram. The night
just past had been a Saturday. There was no longer any doubt that
the Egyptians had held their Sabbath on that heath, and that they had
devoured the child in company with Beelzebub, as the practice is among
the Mahometans. When La Chantefleurie learned these horrible things, she
did not weep, she moved her lips as though to speak, but could not. On
the morrow, her hair was gray. On the second day, she had disappeared.

"'Tis in truth, a frightful tale," said Oudarde, "and one which would
make even a Burgundian weep."

"I am no longer surprised," added Gervaise, "that fear of the gypsies
should spur you on so sharply."

"And you did all the better," resumed Oudarde, "to flee with your
Eustache just now, since these also are gypsies from Poland."

"No," said Gervais, "'tis said that they come from Spain and Catalonia."

"Catalonia? 'tis possible," replied Oudarde. "Pologne, Catalogue,
Valogne, I always confound those three provinces, One thing is certain,
that they are gypsies."

"Who certainly," added Gervaise, "have teeth long enough to eat little
children. I should not be surprised if la Smeralda ate a little of them
also, though she pretends to be dainty. Her white goat knows tricks that
are too malicious for there not to be some impiety underneath it all."

Mahiette walked on in silence. She was absorbed in that revery which is,
in some sort, the continuation of a mournful tale, and which ends only
after having communicated the emotion, from vibration to vibration, even
to the very last fibres of the heart. Nevertheless, Gervaise addressed
her, "And did they ever learn what became of la Chantefleurie?" Mahiette
made no reply. Gervaise repeated her question, and shook her arm,
calling her by name. Mahiette appeared to awaken from her thoughts.

"What became of la Chantefleurie?" she said, repeating mechanically
the words whose impression was still fresh in her ear; then, ma king an
effort to recall her attention to the meaning of her words, "Ah!" she
continued briskly, "no one ever found out."

She added, after a pause,--

"Some said that she had been seen to quit Reims at nightfall by th