n Fleur-de-Lys's--laconic words.
The young man understood that it was indispensable that he should
whisper something in her ear, a commonplace, a gallant compliment, no
matter what. Accordingly he bent down, but he could find nothing in his
imagination more tender and personal than this,--

"Why does your mother always wear that surcoat with armorial designs,
like our grandmothers of the time of Charles VII.? Tell her, fair
cousin, that 'tis no longer the fashion, and that the hinge (gond)
and the laurel (laurier) embroidered on her robe give her the air of
a walking mantlepiece. In truth, people no longer sit thus on their
banners, I assure you."

Fleur-de-Lys raised her beautiful eyes, full of reproach, "Is that all
of which you can assure me?" she said, in a low voice.

In the meantime, Dame Aloise, delighted to see them thus bending towards
each other and whispering, said as she toyed with the clasps of her
prayer-book,--

"Touching picture of love!"

The captain, more and more embarrassed, fell back upon the subject of
the tapestry,--"'Tis, in sooth, a charming work!" he exclaimed.

Whereupon Colombe de Gaillefontaine, another beautiful blonde, with a
white skin, dressed to the neck in blue damask, ventured a timid remark
which she addressed to Fleur-de-Lys, in the hope that the handsome
captain would reply to it, "My dear Gondelaurier, have you seen the
tapestries of the Hotel de la Roche-Guyon?"

"Is not that the hotel in which is enclosed the garden of the Lingere
du Louvre?" asked Diane de Christeuil with a laugh; for she had handsome
teeth, and consequently laughed on every occasion.

"And where there is that big, old tower of the ancient wall of Paris,"
added Amelotte de Montmichel, a pretty fresh and curly-headed brunette,
who had a habit of sighing just as the other laughed, without knowing
why.

"My dear Colombe," interpolated Dame Aloise, "do you not mean the hotel
which belonged to Monsieur de Bacqueville, in the reign of King Charles
VI.? there are indeed many superb high warp tapestries there."

"Charles VI.! Charles VI.!" muttered the young captain, twirling his
moustache. "Good heavens! what old things the good dame does remember!"

Madame de Gondelaurier continued, "Fine tapestries, in truth. A work so
esteemed that it passes as unrivalled."

At that moment Berangere de Champchevrier, a slender little maid of
seven years, who was peering into the square through the trefoils of
the bal