keen sight of Tortillard, and, recovering her feet, turned
furiously to the little cripple, who approached her with a hypocritical
air, saying to her:

"Oh, dear me! Did your foot slip?"

Without making any reply, the Chouette seized Tortillard by the hair,
and, stooping to a level with his cheek, she bit it with such fury that
the blood spurted out beneath her teeth. Strange, however, Tortillard,
in spite of his usual vindictiveness, in spite of feeling such intense
pain, did not utter a murmur or a cry. He only wiped his bleeding cheek,
and said, with a forced laugh:

"I hope next time you will not kiss me so hard,--eh, La Chouette?"

"Wicked little brat! Why did you tread on my gown on purpose to make me
fall?"

"Me? Oh! How could you think so? I swear I didn't do it on purpose, my
dear Chouette! Don't think your little Tortillard would do you any harm;
he loves you too well for that. You should never beat him, or scold him,
or bite him, for he is as fond of you as if he were a poor little dog,
and you were his mistress!" said the boy, in a gentle and insinuating
tone.

Deceived by Tortillard's hypocrisy, the Chouette believed him, and
replied:

"Well, well, if I was wrong to bite you, why, let it go for all the
other times you have deserved it, you little villain! But, _vive la
joie_! To-day I bear no malice. Where is your old rogue of a father?"

"In the house. Shall I go and find him for you?"

"No; are the Martials here?"

"Not yet."

"Then I have time to go down and visit _fourline_. I want to speak to
old No-Eyes."

"Will you go into the Schoolmaster's cellar?" inquired Tortillard,
scarcely concealing his diabolical delight.

"What's that to you?"

"To me?"

"Yes, you ask me the question with such an odd air."

"Because I was thinking of something odd."

"What?"

"Why, that you ought, at least, to have brought him a pack of cards to
pass away his time," replied Tortillard, with a cunning look; "that
would divert him a little; now he has nothing to play at but not to be
bitten by the rats; and he always wins at that game, and after awhile it
becomes tiresome."

The Chouette laughed heartily at Tortillard's wit, and said to the
cripple:

"Love of a baby boy to his mammy! I do not know any chap who has more
vice than this scamp. Go and get me a candle, that you may light me down
to see _fourline_, and you can help me to open his door. You know that I
can hardly push it by myself."