he exclaimed, for the sake of changing the conversation, "what noise is
this in the Cathedral Square?"

He approached the window.

"Oh! _Mon Dieu_, fair cousin, how many people there are on the Place!"

"I know not," said Fleur-de-Lys; "it appears that a witch is to do
penance this morning before the church, and thereafter to be hung."

The captain was so thoroughly persuaded that la Esmeralda's affair was
concluded, that he was but little disturbed by Fleur-de-Lys's words.
Still, he asked her one or two questions.

"What is the name of this witch?"

"I do not know," she replied.

"And what is she said to have done?"

She shrugged her white shoulders.

"I know not."

"Oh, _mon Dieu_ Jesus!" said her mother; "there are so many witches
nowadays that I dare say they burn them without knowing their names. One
might as well seek the name of every cloud in the sky. After all, one
may be tranquil. The good God keeps his register." Here the venerable
dame rose and came to the window. "Good Lord! you are right, Phoebus,"
said she. "The rabble is indeed great. There are people on all the
roofs, blessed be God! Do you know, Phoebus, this reminds me of my best
days. The entrance of King Charles VII., when, also, there were many
people. I no longer remember in what year that was. When I speak of this
to you, it produces upon you the effect,--does it not?--the effect of
something very old, and upon me of something very young. Oh! the
crowd was far finer than at the present day. They even stood upon the
machicolations of the Porte Sainte-Antoine. The king had the queen on a
pillion, and after their highnesses came all the ladies mounted behind
all the lords. I remember that they laughed loudly, because beside
Amanyon de Garlande, who was very short of stature, there rode the
Sire Matefelon, a chevalier of gigantic size, who had killed heaps of
English. It was very fine. A procession of all the gentlemen of France,
with their oriflammes waving red before the eye. There were some with
pennons and some with banners. How can I tell? the Sire de Calm with a
pennon; Jean de Chateaumorant with a banner; the Sire de Courcy with a
banner, and a more ample one than any of the others except the Duc de
Bourbon. Alas! 'tis a sad thing to think that all that has existed and
exists no longer!"

The two lovers were not listening to the venerable dowager. Phoebus
had returned and was leaning on the back of his betrothed's chair, a
charm