ed their city right
valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg,
and Messire Charles of Valois' men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle
Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no
one knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin
the gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the
Walls and handed over to the Bishop's officer, who duly brought them
before the Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned
her for salutary penance to the bread of suffering and the water of
affliction. Robin was convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his
error, was burned alive in the Place du Parvis.

FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF PARIS

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ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the
Abbe Coign-ard in the cloister of "The Innocents," fell into talk
with him of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and
macaronic, he had lately been reading.

"There are good bits to be found in these sermons," said the Capuchin,
"notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between..." You will
readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of
Louis XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a
different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency
in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, _go-between_.

"You mean," replied my good master, "to signify by the expression a
woman who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love
and love-making. The Latin has several names for her,--as _lena,
conciliatrix_, also _internuntia libidinum_, ambassadress of naughty
desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but
seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their
disinterestedness. Call yours a _procuress_, good Father, and have done
with it; 't is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound."

"So I will, Monsieur l'Abbe," assented Brother Jean Chavaray. "Only
don't say _mine_, I pray, but the Brother Olivier's. A procuress then,
who lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight,
who put a ring into her hands. 'It is of fine gold,' he told her, 'and
hath a balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good
estate, go say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she
is willing to come to see