dolater, and a pagan,
she began to entreat with sobs, mercy from the good Christian God, and
to pray to our Lady, her hostess. For even if one believes in nothing,
there are moments in life when one is always of the religion of the
temple which is nearest at hand.

She remained thus prostrate for a very long time, trembling in truth,
more than praying, chilled by the ever-closer breath of that furious
multitude, understanding nothing of this outburst, ignorant of what was
being plotted, what was being done, what they wanted, but foreseeing a
terrible issue.

In the midst of this anguish, she heard some one walking near her. She
turned round. Two men, one of whom carried a lantern, had just entered
her cell. She uttered a feeble cry.

"Fear nothing," said a voice which was not unknown to her, "it is I."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Pierre Gringoire."

This name reassured her. She raised her eyes once more, and recognized
the poet in very fact. But there stood beside him a black figure veiled
from head to foot, which struck her by its silence.

"Oh!" continued Gringoire in a tone of reproach, "Djali recognized me
before you!"

The little goat had not, in fact, waited for Gringoire to announce his
name. No sooner had he entered than it rubbed itself gently against his
knees, covering the poet with caresses and with white hairs, for it was
shedding its hair. Gringoire returned the caresses.

"Who is this with you?" said the gypsy, in a low voice.

"Be at ease," replied Gringoire. "'Tis one of my friends." Then the
philosopher setting his lantern on the ground, crouched upon the stones,
and exclaimed enthusiastically, as he pressed Djali in his arms,--

"Oh! 'tis a graceful beast, more considerable no doubt, for it's
neatness than for its size, but ingenious, subtle, and lettered as a
grammarian! Let us see, my Djali, hast thou forgotten any of thy pretty
tricks? How does Master Jacques Charmolue?..."

The man in black did not allow him to finish. He approached Gringoire
and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

Gringoire rose.

"'Tis true," said he: "I forgot that we are in haste. But that is no
reason master, for getting furious with people in this manner. My dear
and lovely child, your life is in danger, and Djali's also. They want
to hang you again. We are your friends, and we have come to save you.
Follow us."

"Is it true?" she exclaimed in dismay.

"Yes, perfectly true. Come quickly!"

"I am willi