Phoebus， who had seen nothing in the line of beauty， since he left the village maids of Queue-en-Brie， was intoxicated with Fleur-de-Lys， which imparted to our officer so eager and gallant an air， that his peace was immediately made. Madame de Gondelaurier herself， still maternally seated in her big arm-chair， had not the heart to scold him. As for Fleur-de-Lys's reproaches， they expired in tender cooings.
The young girl was seated near the window still embroidering her grotto of Neptune. The captain was leaning over the back of her chair， and she was addressing her caressing reproaches to him in a low voice.
"What has become of you these two long months， wicked man？""I swear to you，" replied Phoebus， somewhat embarrassed by the question， "that you are beautiful enough to set an archbishop to dreaming."She could not repress a smile.
"Good， good， sir. Let my beauty alone and answer my question. A fine beauty， in sooth！""Well， my dear cousin， I was recalled to the garrison.
"And where is that， if you please？ and why did not you come to say farewell？""At Queue-en-Brie."
Phoebus was delighted with the first question， which helped him to avoid the second.
"But that is quite close by， monsieur. Why did you not come to see me a single time？"Here Phoebus was rather seriously embarrassed.
"Because--the service--and then， charming cousin， I have been ill.""Ill！" she repeated in alarm.
"Yes， wounded！"
"Wounded！"
She poor child was completely upset.
"Oh！ do not be frightened at that，" said Phoebus， carelessly， "it was nothing. A quarrel， a sword cut； what is that to you？""What is that to me？" exclaimed Fleur-de-Lys， raising her beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Oh！ you do not say what you think when you speak thus. What sword cut was that？
I wish to know all."
"Well， my dear fair one， I had a falling out with Mahè Fédy， you know？ the lieutenant of Saint-Germain-en-Laye， and we ripped open a few inches of skin for each other. That is all."The mendacious captain was perfectly well aware that an affair of honor always makes a man stand well in the eyes of a woman. In fact， Fleur-de-Lys looked him full in the face， all agitated with fear， pleasure， and admiration. Still， she was not completely reassured.
"Provided that you are wholly cured， my Phoebus！" said she. "I do not know your Mahè Fédy， but he is a villanous man. And whence arose this quarrel？"Here Phoebus， whose imagination was endowed with but mediocre power of creation， began to find himself in a quandary as to a means of extricating himself for his prowess.
"Oh！ how do I know？--a mere nothing， a horse， a remark！
Fair cousin，" 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 charming post whence his libertine glance plunged into all the openings of Fleur-de-Lys's gorget.
This gorget gaped so conveniently， and allowed him to see so many exquisite things and to divine so many more， that Phoebus， dazzled by this skin with its gleams of satin， said to himself， "How can any one love anything but a fair skin？"Both were silent. The young girl raised sweet， enraptured eyes to him from time to time， and their hair mingled in a ray of spring sunshine.
"Phoebus，" said Fleur-de-Lys suddenly， in a low voice， "we are to be married three months hence； swear to me that you have never loved any other woman than myself.""I swear it， fair angel！" replied Phoebus， and his passionate glances aided the sincere tone of his voice in convincing Fleur-de-Lys.