a swinging matter."

"Why?"

"The other day, returning from Mother Martial's, the widow of the man
who was scragged, and who keeps the boozing-ken in the Ile du Ravageur,
Barbillon, the Gros-Boiteux, and the Skeleton had a row with the husband
of the milkwoman who comes every morning from the country in a little
cart drawn by a donkey, to sell her milk in the Cite, at the corner of
the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie, close to the ogress's of the 'White
Rabbit,' and they 'walked into him with their slashers' (killed him with
their knives)."

The son of Bras Rouge, who did not understand slang, listened to the
Chouette with a sort of disappointed curiosity.

"You would like to know, little man, what we are saying, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. You were talking of Mother Martial, who is at the Ile du Ravageur,
near Asnieres. I know her very well, and her daughter Calebasse and
Francois and Amandine, who are about as old as I am, and who are made to
bear everybody's snubs and thumps in the house. But when you talked of
'walking into (_buter_) any one,' that's slang, I know."

"It is; and, if you're a very good chap, I'll teach you to 'patter
flash.' You're just the age when it may be very useful to you. Would you
like to learn, my precious lambkin?"

"I rather think I should, too, and no mistake; and I would rather live
with you than with my old cheat of a mountebank, pounding his drugs. If
I knew where he hides his 'rat-poison for men,' I'd put some in his
soup, and then that would settle the quarrel between us."

The Chouette laughed heartily, and said to Tortillard, drawing him
towards her:

"Come, chick, and kiss his mammy. What a droll boy it is--a darling!
But, my manikin, how didst know that he had 'rat-poison for men'?"

"Why, 'cause I heard him say so one day when I was hid in the cupboard
in the room where he keeps his bottles, his brass machines, and where he
mixes his stuffs together."

"What did you hear him say?" asked the Chouette.

"I heard him say to a gentleman that he gave a powder to, in a paper,
'When you are tired of life, take this in three doses, and you will
sleep without sickness or sorrow.'"

"Who was the gentleman?" asked the Schoolmaster.

"Oh, a very handsome gentleman with black moustachios, and a face as
pretty as a girl's. He came another time; and then, when he left, I
followed him, by M. Bradamanti's order, to find out where he perched.
The fine gentleman went into the Rue de Chaillot