Meanwhile， the good mother， charmed to see the betrothed pair on terms of such perfect understanding， had just quitted the apartment to attend to some domestic matter； Phoebus observed it， and this so emboldened the adventurous captain that very strange ideas mounted to his brain. Fleur-de-Lys loved him， he was her betrothed； she was alone with him；his former taste for her had re-awakened， not with all its fresh-ness but with all its ardor； after all， there is no great harm in tasting one's wheat while it is still in the blade； I do not know whether these ideas passed through his mind， but one thing is certain， that Fleur-de-Lys was suddenly alarmed by the expression of his glance. She looked round and saw that her mother was no longer there.
"Good heavens！" said she， blushing and uneasy， "how very warm I am？""I think， in fact，" replied Phoebus， "that it cannot be far from midday. The sun is troublesome. We need only lower the curtains.""No， no，" exclaimed the poor little thing， "on the contrary， I need air."And like a fawn who feels the breath of the pack of hounds， she rose， ran to the window， opened it， and rushed upon the balcony.
Phoebus， much discomfited， followed her.
The Place du Parvis Notre-Dame， upon which the balcony looked， as the reader knows， presented at that moment a singular and sinister spectacle which caused the fright of the timid Fleur-de-Lys to change its nature.
An immense crowd， which overflowed into all the neighboring streets， encumbered the Place， properly speaking. The little wall， breast high， which surrounded the Place， would not have sufficed to keep it free had it not been lined with a thick hedge of sergeants and hackbuteers， culverines in hand. Thanks to this thicket of pikes and arquebuses， the Parvis was empty. Its entrance was guarded by a force of halberdiers with the armorial bearings of the bishop. The large doors of the church were closed， and formed a contrast with the innumerable windows on the Place， which， open to their very gables， allowed a view of thousands of heads heaped up almost like the piles of bullets in a park of artillery.
The surface of this rabble was dingy， dirty， earthy. The spectacle which it was expecting was evidently one of the sort which possess the privilege of bringing out and calling together the vilest among the populace. Nothing is so hideous as the noise which was made by that swarm of yellow caps and dirty heads. In that throng there were more laughs than cries， more women than men.
From time to time， a sharp and vibrating voice pierced the general clamor.
"Ohé！ Mahiet Baliffre！ Is she to be hung yonder？""Fool！ t'is here that she is to make her apology in her shift！ the good God is going to cough Latin in her face！
That is always done here， at midday. If 'tis the gallows that you wish， go to the Grève.""I will go there， afterwards."
"Tell me， la Boucanbry？ Is it true that she has refused a confessor？""It appears so， La Bechaigne."
"You see what a pagan she is！"
"'Tis the custom， monsieur. The bailiff of the courts is bound to deliver the malefactor ready judged for execution if he be a layman， to the provost of Paris； if a clerk， to the official of the bishopric.""Thank you， sir."
"Oh， God！" said Fleur-de-Lys， "the poor creature！"This thought filled with sadness the glance which she cast upon the populace. The captain， much more occupied with her than with that pack of the rabble， was amorously rumpling her girdle behind. She turned round， entreating and smiling.
"Please let me alone， Phoebus！ If my mother were to return， she would see your hand！"At that moment， midday rang slowly out from the clock of Notre-Dame. A murmur of satisfaction broke out in the crowd. The last vibration of the twelfth stroke had hardly died away when all heads surged like the waves beneath a squall， and an immense shout went up from the pavement， the windows， and the roofs， "There she is！"Fleur-de-Lys pressed her hands to her eyes， that she might not see.
"Charming girl，" said Phoebus， "do you wish to withdraw？""No，" she replied； and she opened through curiosity， the eyes which she had closed through fear.
A tumbrel drawn by a stout Norman horse， and all surrounded by cavalry in violet livery with white crosses， had just debouched upon the Place through the Rue Saint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs. The sergeants of the watch were clearing a passage for it through the crowd， by stout blows from their clubs.
Beside the cart rode several officers of justice and police， recognizable by their black costume and their awkwardness in the saddle. Master Jacques Charmolue paraded at their head.
In the fatal cart sat a young girl with her arms tied behind her back， and with no priest beside her. She was in her shift；her long black hair (the fashion then was to cut it off only at the foot of the gallows) fell in disorder upon her half-bared throat and shoulders.
Athwart that waving hair， more glossy than the plumage of a raven， a thick， rough， gray rope was visible， twisted and knotted， chafing her delicate collar-bones and twining round the charming neck of the poor girl， like an earthworm round a flower. Beneath that rope glittered a tiny amulet ornamented with bits of green glass， which had been left to her no doubt， because nothing is refused to those who are about to die. The spectators in the windows could see in the bottom of the cart her naked legs which she strove to hide beneath her， as by a final feminine instinct. At her feet lay a little goat， bound. The condemned girl held together with her teeth her imperfectly fastened shift. One would have said that she suffered still more in her misery from being thus exposed almost naked to the eyes of all. Alas！ modesty is not made for such shocks.
"Jesus！" said Fleur-de-Lys hastily to the captain. "Look fair cousin， 'tis that wretched Bohemian with the goat."So saying， she turned to Phoebus. His eyes were fixed on the tumbrel. He was very pale.
"What Bohemian with the goat？" he stammered.