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 THE 
 
 LILY OF PARIS; 
 
 THE KING'S NURSE. 
 
 J. PALGRAVE SIMPSON, ESQ. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " PICTURES FROM REVOLUTIONARY PARIS," " LETTERS FROM 
 THE DANUBE," " GISELLA," ETC. 
 
 A perfect woman, nobly plann'd, 
 To warn, to comfort, and command; 
 And yet a spirit still, and bright, 
 With something of an angel light. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1849.
 
 LONDON : 
 R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAI> STREET HILL.
 
 v.l 
 
 TO 
 
 CHARLES LANGTON MASSINGBEED, ESQ. 
 
 THESE VOLUMES ARE PRESENTED 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS ATTACHED EMEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/lilyofparisorkin01simp
 
 PRESENTATION. 
 
 It was at your instigation, and under your inspiration, 
 my good friend, that I allowed myself to be seduced into 
 the picturesque and flowery paths of an historical tale — 
 paths trodden so often, and with so far better mien, by 
 others, that I could scarcely hope to render the result 
 of my wanderings along them acceptable to a public, 
 already, perhaps, over-wearied with such journey ings in 
 the regions of the past. Thus, while, on the one hand, 
 I entreat you to accept these volumes, as rightfully be- 
 longing to you, their prime originator, on the other, I am 
 half inclined to play you the trick of shifting off upon 
 your responsibility the burden of the failure. I must be 
 just, however. The choice of the subject rests entirely 
 with myself. You gave me carte blanche ; and, if I mis- 
 used it, I can scarcely expect you to accept the con- 
 sequences, because they have not been such as I may 
 have desired. I certainly cannot make you responsible for 
 my partiality towards that exquisitely bright apparition 
 in the dark history of France, Odette de Champsdivers, 
 or for the free exercise I have made of a novelists 
 poetical license, in placing her in close connexion with 
 another of those episodical characters of the same reign, 
 who appeared upon the stage of its troublous history, to 
 obtain a momentary renown, like a fiery rocket darting 
 across the dark sky, then to sink down again and go out in 
 utter darkness — the well-known Perrinet Leclerc. My
 
 VI PRESENTATION. 
 
 fancy for thus connecting in a tale two personages, who 
 were always connected in the imaginings of my boyish 
 day-dreams, is as open to criticism as all such fancies : that 
 they formed a picturesque and excellently contrasting 
 group in my mind's eye, may scarcely be considered a 
 sufficient excuse, perhaps, for my bringing them thus 
 closely together. The other characters belong either to 
 the tradition of history, as they are depicted in these 
 volumes, or may be considered, more or less, as types of 
 the characters of the time — types that exist, as far as the 
 bourgeois of Paris are concerned, up to the present day — 
 and that, although the tale was framed and conducted as 
 far as the second volume when the French Revolution 
 of February broke out, I was interested in again dis- 
 covering, under circumstances similar to those of the 
 tale, in the late revolutionary movements which have 
 once more convulsed the unhappy city of Paris. 
 
 During the further progress of my work in that capital, 
 I could not, at the same time, but be struck with the 
 similitude that existed between the scenes of the revolu- 
 tion I depicted, and of that which was passing, in living 
 action, around me — in fact, the similitude that may be 
 traced in all the different scenes of the many revolu- 
 tionary dramas acted in the French capital, scarcely, if at 
 all, modified by the changes which progress in civilisation 
 has, or is supposed to have, produced. It may be added, 
 as a curious fact, that the description of the emeute in 
 the second volume' was written with the noise of the 
 firing and shouting of the twenty-third of February in 
 my ears, until curiosity and interest forced me to throw 
 down my pen and run out. 
 
 As regards truth to nature, however, I must hasten to 
 meet the objection that you might make to my characters, 
 as too highly coloured and overdrawn; in short, as open
 
 PRESENTATION. Vll 
 
 to the charge of being, what is usually termed " melo- 
 dramatic." To this I have only to answer, that what 
 appears wildness and exaggeration in the present day was 
 essentially the characteristic of the times, and, above all, 
 of a people that from all times has shown itself so fond of 
 forced theatrical display, in all its actions, either in public 
 or private life. To another objection, also, the composition 
 of the tale is liable — namely, that one common passion 
 seems to be the mainspring motive of the actions of 
 most of the principal characters — the passion of re- 
 venge. This objection is perfectly just: and I can but 
 answer it with the defence, that revenge, of all the 
 worse influencing passions, was the great and predomi- 
 nant one of the epoch ; and that its recurrence, as a 
 leading trait in the characters of so many of my per- 
 sonages, was almost impossible to be avoided in a pic- 
 ture of the times. The correctness of historical details 
 must be left to the charge of Alonstrelet, {Annates de 
 France,) and Michelet, from whom I have chiefly taken 
 them. I must plead guilty, at the same time, to a few 
 vague borrowings from Dumas. 
 
 Another objection, which I am aware you will make, 
 as you have already made it — namely, that I write 
 without any higher purpose or idea, — I cannot meet so 
 easily. I might shelter myself under the shadow of an 
 illustrious wing, and quote the highest authority for 
 writing for amusement, without any fixed tendency, 
 beyond that of general good sense and moral feeling : 
 but I do not dare to approach the master-spirit of ro- 
 mance, even with the slightest touch of, what might 
 appear, assumed comparison. I might have led you to 
 look for a moral in the consequences of revolutionary 
 passions, and the dangers of letting loose the torrent 
 of popular convulsion, which is not afterwards to be 
 stemmed, and generally drowns those who have opened
 
 Till PRESENTATION. 
 
 the flood-gates — a moral which, just now, would not be 
 misplaced. I might have told you to take a still loftier 
 flight, and seek that higher idea, and deeper purpose, 
 which you call for at my hands, in the exposition of the 
 triumph of mind over matter, in my tale, exemplified in 
 the progress of the little Carmelite monk, — in the in- 
 fluence of the frail, mild, yielding, tender Yvon, over the 
 violent, and more energetic Perrinet, succumbing before 
 counteracting moral evil influences, — in the more 
 heavenly essence of " Lys d'Ange," shrinking back, at 
 last, at the contact of earthly passion and crime, to rise 
 glorious only in its own heavenly sphere ; in short, in 
 the contending struggle of mind and matter in the 
 drama of life : but I will not take the merit which I do 
 not deserve, of making even an attempt to do your bid- 
 ding in this respect. I prefer pleading " guilty " to the 
 charge. Accept, then, the Work, with its faults and 
 imperfections, as a token of my desire to follow the 
 inspiration you would have given me ; and, if it can 
 afford amusement to a few of your leisure hours, or to 
 those of such persons as may bestow their attention 
 upon it, I am fully repaid for my poor pains. 
 
 London, 
 
 December 1848.
 
 THE 
 
 LILY OF PARIS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PARIS IX 1418. 
 
 For guilty states do ever bear 
 
 The plagues about them which they have deserved. 
 
 Ben Joxsoi. 
 In these distracted times, when each man dreads 
 
 The bloody stratagem of busy heads. 
 
 Otwat. 
 
 There are few, probably, who, when they may 
 have wandered along the streets of Paris — the 
 Paris of 184T, teeming with the marvels of art 
 and manufacture at every window, glittering with 
 their gilded arabesque-painted cafes, and flaunt- 
 ing forth their would-be splendid and modish 
 garments of modern architecture ; or even, 
 when they may have been lost by chance, or 
 bent on a voyage of adventurous discovery in 
 the narrower and dirtier streets of the older 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 parts of the city, which have latterly thrown off 
 so many a last middle-aged remnant of attire, 
 to don a fresher and less romantic coat, and sold 
 their once interesting souvenirs for the modern 
 improvements of a make-believe cleanliness — 
 there are few, probably, who have conjured up 
 to their imaginations the vision of the same spot 
 in centuries gone by, or endeavoured to recall 
 the picturesque aspect of those same streets, at 
 a time when there was no lack of splendour, and 
 far more genial occupation for an artistic eye; — 
 when, if there was more dirt, there was less 
 mock order — when, spite of the absence of the 
 carriages, hack cabriolets, and omnibuses innu- 
 merable of our days, there was as much or more 
 varied animation along the swarming thorough- 
 fares than even with the modern habits of 
 restless time-devouring bustle. And yet, what 
 an amusing vision might be produced by the 
 magic wand of such a fancy. 
 
 In the dark and melancholy reign of Charles 
 VI, when so many calamities were accumulated 
 over the devoted city of Paris, that there was 
 scarcely an inch of ground that had not some
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 3 
 
 deed of horror or sadness to record — when the 
 Vieille Rue du Temple, having witnessed the 
 first and leading act of that bloody drama which 
 eventually desolated the whole country, and 
 delivered it into the hands of the foreigner, and 
 seen attached to its name for ever the dark brand 
 of treachery and revenge, by the assassination 
 of Louis, Duke of Orleans, the brother of the 
 king, by his cousin Jean, Duke of Burgundy — 
 when all the accumulated miseries of party fac- 
 tion and foreign invasion threatened the capital 
 with the approaching horrors of bloody convul- 
 sion, devastation by fire and sword, and the ac- 
 companying evils of war, " plague, pestilence, 
 and famine," — Paris still did not lose, until its 
 last moments of despair, that moving, living, 
 gay and animated aspect, which has never ceased 
 to be its characteristic, even among the dismal 
 tragedies of later revolutions. 
 
 Never, however, did utter ruin appear to be 
 more nearly suspended over the whole country 
 and its capital, than in the commencement of the 
 year 1418. 
 
 The unfortunate king, Charles VI, had been 
 B 2
 
 4 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 attacked by several fits of temporary insanity, 
 the first of which had fallen upon him during an 
 expedition against his rebellious vassal the Duke 
 of Brittany ; and was supposed to have been 
 produced by the treachery of his own uncles, 
 who, anxious to turn him from a project which 
 militated against their own intrigues, had sud- 
 denly produced before his sight, in the forest of 
 Mans, a spectral appearance, warning him to 
 return, that had worked thus horribly upon his 
 susceptible, superstitious, and romantic tempera- 
 ment, rendered still more excitable by his weak- 
 ness after a violent fever, and driven him to 
 frenzy. After recovering, to relapse again into 
 still wilder madness, in consequence of a fearful 
 scene which had taken place at a masked ball in 
 his own palace, when he nearly perished from 
 being set on fire by accident, in the dress of a 
 savage, he had at last fallen into what appeared 
 an utterly hopeless state of madness. Profiting 
 by this wretched condition of the mis-named 
 ruler of the land, two principal factions tore the 
 unlucky kingdom to shreds, each trying which 
 could carry off, in its deadly bite, the richest
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 5 
 
 morsels. The Duke of Burgundy, cousin to 
 the king, who had retired to his states after the 
 discovery of the murder by him of Louis of 
 Orleans, and his subsequent avowal, laid claim to 
 the Regency of the kingdom during the mino- 
 rity of the young dauphin, as his nearest relation. 
 Opposed to these pretensions, as those of a 
 traitor and assassin, stood forward, as his great 
 rival, Bernard, Count d'Armagnac, the most 
 powerful noble of his time, and father-in-law 
 to the son of the murdered Duke of Orleans, 
 and as such, consequently, the leader of the 
 Orleans faction. These two men, after devour- 
 ing the people between them, turned upon each 
 other to devour themselves. Xot enough was it, 
 however, for the unhappy country, that these 
 great nobles filled the bosom of the land with 
 confusion, exciting throughout it disorder, and 
 rapine, and death, preventing the progress of 
 civilization, and proclaiming anarchy in its place; 
 but, profiting by the distracted state of France, 
 Henry V. of England had again invaded the 
 country, to assert his own claims, and, after 
 landing at Touques in Normandy, had subdued 
 the whole of that province and made himself
 
 6 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 master of all its chief towns, with the exception 
 of Rouen alone. After the great battle of Agin- 
 court, his banner had been joined by several of 
 the feudal vassals of the crown of France. The 
 two great faction chiefs, however, had both held 
 back from the field of Agincourt in order to watch 
 the opportunity of seizing their own advantage. 
 The King of England had rendered them a ser- 
 vice in killing off several of their mutual enemies 
 and rivals. Thenceforth the field was left open 
 to them; the game was to be played between 
 themselves ; and, as has been expressed by an 
 historian of the time, " like two carrion crows 
 they sailed down upon the battle-plain to gorge 
 themselves upon the dead." The great ques- 
 tion had been, Who was to possess the capital ? 
 The Duke of Burgundy, with a force of ten 
 thousand horse, had galloped off for Paris. But 
 he had arrived too late : the Count d'Armagnac 
 was already in the city. In his power he held 
 the mad king and the young thoughtless dau- 
 phin. He had laid his hand, too, upon the 
 sword of constable, and, in virtue of his office, 
 pretended to rule the land. 
 
 The position of the successful chief in the
 
 THE LILY OF PARES. 7 
 
 capital, however, was one of the greatest em- 
 barrassment. The most momentous question to 
 Armagnac was, to know how to support the 
 enormous expenses, not only of the expeditions 
 against the invading English, but of his govern- 
 ment in Paris. The greater part of the kingdom 
 paid him no revenue ; Paris remained to him 
 almost alone ; and Paris he squeezed to the last 
 drop, sucked to the very marrow : it was crushed 
 beneath the weight of its obligations, and forced 
 to pay alone the expenses of the king and king- 
 dom. The exasperation of the citizens rose 
 from day to day ; and the Constable, whose pre- 
 carious tenure drove him ever to exercise in- 
 creasing vexations and rigours against the Pari- 
 sians, was daily becoming more and more an 
 object of detestation. A secret Burgundian 
 party was also strong within the city ; and 
 Armagnac, who knew how little confidence he 
 could place in the citizens of Paris, had orga- 
 nized a police of his own, of fearful efficacy in 
 matters of political delinquency. A conspirac} 7 , 
 set on foot for the purpose of introducing the 
 Duke of Burgundy within the walls of Paris,
 
 5 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 had been discovered by means of these agents. 
 It had been declared by Armagnac that the 
 object of this conspiracy was to murder the king 
 and the dauphin ; and executions and drownings 
 in the Seine, of suspected Burgundians, had 
 taken place in rapid and terrible succession. 
 The Parliament and the University had been 
 purged of supposed adherents of Burgundy, and 
 several hundred persons driven from the city. 
 The citizens were forbidden to put chains across 
 the streets for their security, and were deprived 
 of such offensive weapons as could be found by 
 vigorous search : although disarmed, however, 
 they were compelled to furnish a civic militia 
 for the defence of the town, in the proportion of a 
 third of the male inhabitants. No one was 
 allowed to leave the city ; and those who dared 
 to disobey, were struck, wounded, and robbed 
 by the soldiers of Armagnac, if surprised. Never 
 a day passed but that some of the citizens were 
 maltreated by these overbearing men-at-arms ; 
 and those who dared to lay their complaints 
 before the Constable or the Provost of Paris, 
 were treated as malcontents and Burgundians.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 9 
 
 At the commencement of 1418, the Constable 
 seemed to have devoured his last resources. 
 Having gnawed Paris to the bone, he fell upon 
 the treasures of the Church : he seized the rich 
 ornaments from the churches and chapels, and 
 obtained what he could by melting down the 
 holy vessels of the altars and the shrines of 
 saints. To the fermenting discontent of the 
 citizens, he thus added the ill-suppressed rage 
 and hatred of the clergy and the monks. 
 
 Although overreached by his rival, and foiled 
 in his first attempt to enter the city of Paris, 
 the Duke of Burgundy, however, maintained 
 a position far more tenable than that of the 
 Constable. He endeavoured to augment the 
 fermentation and discontent by causing, when- 
 ever he could, the greatest possible scarcity of 
 provisions in the capital ; and unable to wound 
 his adversary in a direct manner, he struck 
 him an indirect blow of great importance. 
 The Queen Isabel of Bavaria, the wife of 
 the unhappy Charles, had been banished to 
 Tours, as well on account of her adulterous 
 connexions with more than one of the young 
 B 3
 
 10 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 courtiers of the day, as of her peculation of 
 the revenues of the kingdom, to support her own 
 endless extravagances and excesses. After long 
 varying between alternations of tenderness to 
 his seductive queen, or, at least, an utter pro- 
 stration of will before her artful and imperative 
 influence in his periods of partial insanity, and of 
 anger and hatred on account of her glaring mis- 
 conduct during his moments of restored reason, 
 the king had at length been induced by Arma- 
 gnac, whose power the queen had thwarted and 
 undermined, if she had not openly opposed, to 
 send her off a prisoner to Tours, in one of his 
 lucid intervals. The artful queen, however, had 
 contrived to deceive her gaolers, and communi- 
 cate with the Duke of Burgundy, who had sur- 
 prised her guardians, and carried her off by 
 force of arms. Combined thus with the rival of 
 her hated enemy Armagnac, Isabel had declared 
 herself Regent of France, " by the Grace of 
 God," and was supported in her pretensions by 
 the States General of Chartres, and other towns. 
 Self-invested with this power, she forbade the 
 payment of all taxes to the Armagnac govern-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 11 
 
 ment ; and by the Duke of Burgundy troops 
 were dispatched to all the great towns to enforce 
 this prohibition — a prohibition received by the 
 greater part of them with gratitude, and obeyed 
 with zealous alacrity. 
 
 Such was the distracted position of affairs, 
 which, at this period, convulsed the whole 
 country of France — such the miserable and fer- 
 menting state under which the capital suffered ; 
 and still Paris, spite of its anxiety, misery, and 
 dreary presentiment of coming evil, had not as 
 yet lost its aspect of gay, variegated animation, 
 and threw in general a bright veil of carelessness 
 over the hideous corruption of the body below. 
 True, the veil had been often torn ; and, through 
 the open rags, might be seen, now and then, 
 many a sore ; but still the Parisian of that day, 
 as of this, and probably still more, spread forth 
 the glitter and the spangles, and heeded not the 
 rents. 
 
 Thus it was, that on a bright spring morning, 
 the Rue St. Denis, at that period the most 
 frequented thoroughfare of the capital, the main 
 artery of the great throbbing heart, through
 
 12 THE LILY OL PARIS. 
 
 which the chief of its life-blood flowed — for, in 
 connexion with the Rue de la Harpe, it traversed 
 the whole city, like one of those great rivers 
 that traverse a kingdom, bringing with it fertility 
 and wealth — was filled by a variegated and 
 brightly animated crowd. 
 
 Although dark like an inferno during the 
 night, frequently infected by floating mephitic 
 vapours, and muddy at most times, the streets 
 wore, in the gay morning sunlight, like all the 
 principal streets of old Paris, a physiognomy 
 characterized by a species of coarse picturesque- 
 ness. This charm arose chiefly from the varied 
 forms of the fantastic gables of the houses, 
 which were more commonly turned towards 
 the street, with their sculptured cross beams, 
 generally most grotesquely carved, that formed 
 the exterior ornament as well as the support of 
 the dwellings, and exhibited, besides the common 
 simple " X," the strangest and most complicated 
 geometrical figures. Not unfrequently these 
 gables were embellished with highly coloured 
 rude paintings, or with numberless groups of 
 those little figures called mai-mousets, of a
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 13 
 
 saintly or burlesque description, painted and 
 gilt in gaudy glitter, such as the image-makers 
 of the time — a thriving trade — fabricated in the 
 simplicity of their art ; and they displayed also, 
 from different parts, grotesque heads with gap- 
 ing mouths, out of which long waterspouts 
 threatened to inundate the unwary passengers 
 in the time of rain. Sometimes a few low hovels 
 huddled together in a dirty mass, and rudely 
 constructed of limping and deformed logs of 
 wood, stood close to a tall but ungainly neighbour 
 of this kind— prim, starched and befrizzled like 
 an over-dressed old maid. More generally, 
 however, might be seen a richer facade of a 
 tolerably sized house, covered also with its mar- 
 mousets, standing out between slender twisted 
 columns, or adorning, like Italian Madonnas, 
 the numerous grouped niches executed after 
 every caprice of form — each higher upper story 
 protruding over the lower with its huge broad 
 sculptured window, or its long gallery forming 
 a domestic promenade, and behung with tem- 
 porary curtains of the blue rateens of Dauphiny, 
 or Flanders cloths, or stuffs of Samis — with
 
 14 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 now a round advancing turret at the corner, 
 tapering to a point below, half way down the 
 first floor — now a low heavy porch with vaulted 
 arch of sculptured stone, opening upon a long 
 dark inner space, and sometimes partially covered 
 again with coloured hangings — now a narrower 
 doorway, at an angle, through the opening of 
 which might be seen a turning staircase winding 
 round a heavy stone pillar. Below, were broad 
 open windows, at which were displayed immea- 
 surable rich assortments of the most varied 
 kinds of stuffs, far beyond what men usually 
 attribute to those days of " simplicity" in manu- 
 facture ; or wooden booths, scarcely less well 
 furnished forth, protruding boldly into the 
 thoroughfare ; or large open spaces, beneath co- 
 lumns of stone or wood, occupying the whole 
 of the ground floor of a dwelling, except at its 
 turreted angles, in which trades of every descrip- 
 tion were being carried on. At house corners 
 also were visible heavy hooks, still firmly fixed 
 into stone pillars, from which, formerly, enormous 
 chains had been hung across the street at night, 
 in order " to stop the depredations of the nobles,
 
 THE LILY 01 PAULS. 15 
 
 scholars of the University, and other malefac- 
 tors," as an old edict quaintly expresses it, 
 although now removed and prohibited, to the 
 great discontent of the citizens, by an order of 
 the Constable Armagnac, in his mistrust of these 
 internal means of defence. From time to time, 
 among the more clustering masses of buildings 
 rose long naked walls, above which waved the 
 trees of occasional gardens, adding to the colour 
 of the picture, to which the moss, and even 
 hanging creeping plants, covering many of the 
 roofs, contributed also in no slight degree. The long 
 scene was one of picturesque and bright disorder. 
 Highly animated also was the living panorama 
 of the street, for it was at an early hour of the 
 morning that the business of the different itine- 
 rant venders of merchandize, who at that 
 period, by their countless and varied multitude, 
 formed a babel and tumult of which the present 
 day, in spite of the noise of its many horse 
 vehicles, which did not then exist, can form but 
 a very weak idea, was at all its stunning height: 
 it lasted in all its confusion only until the hour 
 of eleven or twelve, the usual time of dining.
 
 16 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Stout men, in their closely fitting dresses of 
 brown and red serge, with scolloped capes upon 
 their backs, pushed along with a mass of wooden 
 and iron hooped pitchers in one hand, and, in 
 the other, horn cups, crying, " Good wine for 
 dainty mouths — wine well-spiced ! " and lin- 
 gered, when they could, near open shop windows 
 and protruding boards, to tempt the apprentice, 
 who could snatch a draught when his master's 
 back was turned. "Wrinkled, dirty old market 
 women, with disordered locks hanging down 
 their cheeks, and ragged dress, pushed boldly 
 forwards also, in spite of the ruder sex, shout- 
 ing at the top of their shrill lungs, the cries of 
 "Herbs, herbs, all fresh!" or, "Flour, white 
 and good ! " or, " Lombardy nuts from beyond 
 the far seas ! " Big jolly dames, with their short 
 full petticoats displaying their naked feet and 
 legs, and low corsages, carrying upon their 
 bulging persons a whole cook-shop slung 
 about their necks, made their way amidst the 
 crowd no less boldly, and stopped masons and 
 stone-hewers, and other swaggering artizans, 
 with their loud and alluring announcement of
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 17 
 
 " Patties hot, and forcemeat cakes !" " Cheeses 
 of Champagne and Brie!" "Fresh meat and 
 salt ! " " Wafer-cakes new to-day ! " — And coun- 
 try looking damsels, with petticoats as short, but 
 with clear white kerchiefs spread Italian fashion 
 on their heads, lingered from porch to porch 
 with baskets of fresh nosegays, crying, " Eglan- 
 tine and rose !" " Seignors, a nosegay for the 
 fair dame of your thoughts !" But these wer e 
 few among the hundreds of the ambulating 
 traffickers of all descriptions — the cries only the 
 most common, among the endless diversity, at 
 that time shrieked along the streets, and com- 
 pletely lost in modern times — such as " Needles 
 in exchange for old iron !" "Water for bread!" 
 " Bird-traps for broken victuals ! " " Wine dregs, 
 ho!" "Garlic, honey -sauce, and pepper!" 
 "Strewing rushes for my lady's chamber!" 
 "Wool for dainty ladies' rouge!" "Coffers 
 sweet and strong to keep out the moth ! " 
 " Salve for scurvy and itch !" — joined to various 
 others of an even still less savoury description. 
 Mixed with these cries came also the loud voices 
 of the noisy begging mendicant monks of dif-
 
 18 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 ferent orders, each striving to outrival the other 
 by force of lungs, and not unfrequently by force 
 of arm ; and at one time the whole wild clatter 
 was dominated by the stentorian voice of a 
 herald in arms, mounted upon a stout horse with 
 gorgeous housings, who was proclaiming, by the 
 sound of a bannered trumpet, at different stations 
 in the street, the last edict of the dreaded Con- 
 stable, which was received with low groans and 
 ill suppressed curses. Amidst all this confusion 
 rose also the troubled murmur of the thousand- 
 and-one incomprehensible, inexplicable, unin- 
 telligible noises, which prevail among a numerous 
 population. 
 
 Not less distracting was the confusion of 
 tongues by the sides of the streets, from open 
 windows, and booths, and spreading porches, 
 where each shopman, or his apprentices, an- 
 nounced the goods for sale with every variety of 
 enticing recommendation ; or quarrelled among 
 themselves because some fancied purchaser 
 had passed their shop to another ; and vilified 
 their neighbours' wares, with every kind of 
 jest and banter on buyer as well as seller, as
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 19 
 
 noisily as they had vaunted their own ; and 
 uttered coarser jokes, if, by chance, the indi- 
 vidual who had disdained their wares stopped 
 before the window, with its thin horn plates, of a 
 fair embroideress of arms, or at the half-closed 
 draperied porch of a pretty damsel, at the sign 
 of " The Crown n or u The Sun" — a sempstress 
 of pearl devices upon ladies' robes, and gentle- 
 men's embroidered coats. And shopkeepers 
 abused their apprentices, and then retired to 
 the back of their shops to grumble at their ease. 
 And apprentices abused each other, and then 
 vented their spleen by cutting jibes upon some 
 chance wandering student from the university 
 on the other side of the Seine, whose ragged 
 black robes, or holes at knees or elbow, offered 
 a subject of their scorn, and whose downcast 
 pale looks showed that he was not likely to 
 avenge an insult. 
 
 Mixed with these traffickers engaged upon 
 business, pushed, and turned, and crowded and 
 wallowed, also, the dense population of citizens, 
 hurrying to and fro on their affairs ; wandering 
 singers, and players of the viol or luth ; priests
 
 20 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 and nuns, and beggars, and cripples, and thieves, 
 and men-at-arms, all mingled pell-mell, and all 
 helping to complete the strange and picturesque 
 physiognomy of the old city. 
 
 Sometimes, although seldom, came along the 
 crowd the lady or the wife of the richer citizen, 
 her head adorned with a huge pointed pyramid, 
 from which hung down a flowing veil, or a large 
 scaffolding surmounted by two embroidered 
 horns; or an immense mass of embroidered 
 padded work about her ears; her tight dress 
 cut low upon her bosom. And then, anon, the 
 Parliament scribe, or the Professor in his long 
 dark robes, sometimes draggling to a great 
 length in the mud ; or the wealthy citizen, in 
 long, ample dress of red, trimmed with fur, 
 open in front ; or the young noble, in tightly 
 fitting purple hose, embroidered vest with long 
 sleeves that hung nearly to the ground, with 
 rolled cap of velvet, from which a long scarf of 
 coloured silk, after forming a fan like a tail 
 behind, swept round and hung in folds across 
 the bosom and shoulders, and with shoes the 
 points of which weretwistedupintohorned beaks.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 21 
 
 It was as one of these refined elegants of the 
 day — after looking over a variety of rich stuffs 
 at a wide open window, or rather turning them 
 over, as he looked at the attractive face of a 
 buxom mercer's wife who offered them for 
 sale — purchased a nosegay from a flower-girl 
 lingering beneath the porch, and offered it to 
 the dame, that the mercer himself, in the form 
 of a middle-aged man, came hastily forwards 
 with a frown upon his brow, and sending his 
 wife to the back recesses of the establishment, 
 asked the gallant what was his will. But, find- 
 ing that a purchaser from a pretty wife was 
 by no means necessarily one from a jealous 
 husband, and that the young man turned away 
 laughing, he lounged out by the open porch, 
 and looked after the would-be Don Juan, with 
 folded arms and a dissatisfied look. 
 
 " Horns ! horns !" cried a voice in his ear. 
 
 The mercer turned angrily, with a flush of 
 purple colour pervading his broad homely face, 
 in his surprise and anger at this unseemly and 
 provoking exclamation, and saw beside him his 
 neighbour the butcher, who had also come
 
 22 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 forward from one of those open ground floors, 
 supported on wooden pillars, already described, 
 next door, from whence the stream of gore, 
 making its way unrestrained into the common 
 thoroughfare, and the fat odour of fresh flesh 
 and blood, sufficiently told his trade without 
 the need of any sign. He stood, in his tightly 
 fitting red hose, a scolloped cape about his 
 neck supplying the place of his absent vest ; 
 his coarse shirt-sleeves were tucked up along his 
 brawny arms, still reeking from the slaughter- 
 bench. He was, like many of his trade, the 
 type of physical force ; and an air of deter- 
 mination sat upon his heavy brow and thick 
 lips ; although there was a look of sense, and 
 even good temper, about his clear blue eyes, 
 which somewhat modified the harsher ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " What do you mean, neighbour Lambert ?" 
 said the mercer, in a tone of vexation. " Is 
 that a fitting morning greeting to an honest 
 citizen, and a man of substance, and well to do 
 in the w-orld, and married withal ?" And he 
 coloured still more highly, as he saw the butcher
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 23 
 
 point to the spark who had just passed, and 
 repeat his obnoxious expression of " Horns! 
 horns!" 
 
 " I did not expect this of a neighbourly man 
 and a friendly," he cried again. 
 
 (i It is but the scalded dog, that dreads cold 
 water," answered the butcher, laughing. " Nay, 
 never scowl, man ; I did but jest ; and I never 
 thought, in pointing my fingers at a distance, to 
 pinch thee. I spoke but of yon gallant's 
 pointed feet, turned up so insolently. Horns 
 are all the fashion, now-a-days ; the women 
 take to wearing them on their heads, instead of 
 their masters — the men, upon their toes. And, 
 by the way, Master Bourdon,' 1 he continued, 
 whispering in his ear, " 1 would not have thee 
 vaunting thy good substance thus openly in the 
 street, with many ears around to hear thee. 
 The Armagnac might show his love for thee 
 by sharing thy substance with thee, and taking, 
 mayhap, the lion's portion, as is his wont, when 
 he knows where to clutch it." 
 
 The mercer started, and looked around him 
 with uneasiness.
 
 24 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 "Horns! horns!" repeated a wrinkled and 
 hideous old woman, who, in dirty ragged attire, 
 and with a clout upon her grizzled and tangled 
 locks by way of a covering, was seated upon 
 the ground between two bales before the mer- 
 cer's window, and was munching morsels from a 
 heap of cold victuals, which looked more like 
 offal than human food, in her lap ; she had 
 evidently listened to the first part of the dis- 
 course of the two neighbours. " Horns, quoth'e ! 
 scorpions' tails they are! devils' claws they are!" 
 she continued to mumble, rocking herself back- 
 wards and forwards ; " Satan rules the roast 
 now-a-days ! Satan has his mark on all ! 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Of a truth the old crone is right," said 
 Master Bourdon the mercer, who had turned 
 at this soliloquy, and regarded the old woman 
 with some surprise, mixed with disgust; "living 
 creatures in our times cover themselves with 
 the form of Satan." And he spat upon the ground 
 at the name he uttered. The old woman laughed 
 again, and munched on. 
 
 " Ay ! ay !" responded the butcher, crossing
 
 TILE LILY OF PARIS. . 25 
 
 himself piously, " such unholy devices only 
 grimaced from the gutter-spouts of the churches 
 without, formerly, like the suffering souls of 
 the damned excluded from the holy sanctuary 
 within ; but now they are conceived to be 
 prettinesses, and allurements of attire. And 
 sacred ornaments, too, take worldly forms ! 
 and your fine dame must have a little sculp- 
 tured cathedral for her easy chair, forsooth ; 
 and veils, such as were fitted only for the adorn- 
 ment of our Blessed Lady on the day of the 
 Holy Assumption, must now be hung, heaven 
 forgive us ! upon the heads of worldly damoiselles, 
 and from the top of these diabolical horns, 
 too " 
 
 " Nay, neighbour Lambert," expostulated 
 the mercer, "say nought against the costly veils ; 
 they bring us much good profit." 
 
 "You know your own interest, I doubt me 
 not," rejoined the butcher, with an ironical 
 glance from his eyes ; " and God or devil may 
 each serve your turn. Now never look angry 
 again, man; be that as it may, your great dames 
 with their naked bosoms, and their horns built 
 
 vol. i. C
 
 26 THE LILY 01 PARIS. 
 
 so marvellously high upon their haughty heads, 
 that they must bend them, and twist, and turn, 
 and antic, to enter a chamber-door, look won- 
 drously in my eyes like the beast of which the 
 preacher of the good church of our guild, St. 
 Jacques la Boucherie, expounds to us from the 
 holy book of Revelations ; and Christians do not 
 fear to wear the devil's livery. Paugh ! " 
 
 " The devil is the master now! ha! ha!" 
 laughed the old crone again ; " your limners 
 who painted him as a beauteous female with 
 horns, were rare and clever fellows. The beauty 
 and the beast are one." And she munched on. 
 
 The mercer and the butcher looked askance, 
 with an ill-defined feeling of dread, upon the old 
 woman, but then, shrugging their shoulders, 
 continued their discourse. 
 
 " Sadly indeed do our great dames demean 
 themselves, that is a truth," pursued the 
 mercer; "pray Heaven their evil ways conta- 
 minate and corrupt not the spouses of us honest 
 citizens!" And Master Bourdon cast a glance 
 aside to his open window, at which his wife had 
 again appeared with a little boy, such as the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 27 
 
 jealous mercer considered without danger as an 
 apprentice, to allure the passers-by to the rich 
 wares of the establishment. 
 
 " Ay ! beauty is frail, Master Bourdon," 
 said Lambert sententiously, with a sly twinkle 
 of his eyes. 
 
 " And why should beauty not be frail ?" said, 
 with a singing tone, a dapper little man, in the 
 'tightest of tight vestments permitted by the 
 fashion of the younger citizens of the da}% 
 evidently arranged so as to show off a form which 
 its owner considered of the most exquisite pro- 
 portions ; " beauty, like pie-crust, is made to 
 be nibbled." 
 
 This new interlocutor had stepped across the 
 street, as daintily and jauntihy as its crowded 
 state permitted, from the open porch of a house 
 possessing a discreet low door just round its 
 turreted corner, the swinging sign above the 
 main entrance of which, with its inscription of 
 " Barbier Etuviste," proclaimed his trade to be 
 that of barber and bagnio-keeper. 
 
 "And who should not know the worth of 
 beauty, if it be not the bath-master, gossips?" 
 he continued, after the salutations of his neigh- 
 C2
 
 28 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 hours, whose conversation he had not witnessed 
 from the other side of the way without an in- 
 surmountable desire to join in it ; " maybe, 
 too, there is many a fair and beauteous dame 
 who disdains not to appreciate her appreciator, 
 in the person of one I wot of who shall be 
 nameless," he pursued, drawing up his little 
 figure to the full height of which it was capable. 
 
 "What you may have to do with beauty I 
 know not," responded the butcher drily ; " but 
 unless men belie you, Master Cocardas, veiled 
 and shrouded female forms may oft be seen 
 gliding down yon lane opposite, and stopping at 
 a certain door." (Master Cocardas laughed and 
 winked knowingly, and sniggered and simpered, 
 and stuck up his dapper head, with its trim pale 
 beard, still higher, if possible.) " But I never 
 heard of one that was not followed by a ruder 
 shadow in ample cloak or cape, coming along 
 with less caution, perhaps, but no less precipi- 
 tation, and always stopping, by the strangest 
 hazard, at the self-same door." Master Cocardas 
 laughed no longer, but squeezed up his face into 
 a grimace, intended probably for a frown. 
 
 " Another sign of the times !*" said the butcher,
 
 THE LILY OL PARIS. 29 
 
 half aside, in a loud whisper to his neighbour 
 the mercer. 
 
 " Yes, the times are bad enough," said the 
 barber Cocardas, disdaining to make any applica- 
 tion to himself of the phrase he had overheard. 
 " I have stood beneath my porch, and cried with 
 the most alluring tones of my voice, (and it is n^o 
 crow's-caw, as ye know, gossips,) ■ Warm baths 
 to lave your gentle limbs, Seignors ! — baths, warm 
 and fresh, as truth is in me ! ' — but I have cried 
 myself hoarse in vain. Ah ! times are bad — 
 miserably bad ! gossips — you have my word 
 for it ; although I have the honour to be the 
 king's barber and beard-fancier — not that he ever 
 allows a razor to come near him, or cares much 
 for the fancy of his beard, poor man ! but, in the 
 matter of a little blood-letting, sometimes I have 
 had the felicity of opening a regal vein — but, 
 none the less, times are bad." 
 
 st Times are always bad," rejoined Lambert, 
 stoutly, " when doors that are closed by day 
 are opened by night to receive the man of evil, 
 and, maybe, the assassin, or the sorcerer, or the 
 Jew. But I did not think that they had touched 
 you, Master Cocardas."
 
 30 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Master Cocardas, as usual, turned a deaf ear 
 to the sarcasm, and continued to chatter like a 
 magpie the words, " Times are bad ! times are 
 bad!" 
 
 " Times are bad ! " echoed the old crone with 
 a hoarse laugh, as, after finishing her unwhole- 
 some meal, she shook the remnants from her lap 
 to a rat that peeped from behind one of the 
 bales, and helped herself up by the aid of her 
 long skinny arms. " Ay ! the shadow grows 
 darker in the streets, and the black mud is 
 deeper, and greasier, and blacker, from the 
 fatness of blood. The very narrow windows 
 of yon houses grin with a diabolical look upon 
 you. Nature herself has warned you. The 
 elements have changed — the seasons left their 
 course ; and in the sky are signs and wonders — 
 many suns, and no moon. Come what may, 
 something you may expect. But what will be 
 that something? No good, I tell you." 
 
 After concluding this harangue, the old woman 
 stretched out her hand, as if to ask an alms in 
 return for her ill-omened prophecy. 
 
 Master Bourdon looked startled at this ad-
 
 THE LILY OL PARIS. 31 
 
 dress; but his ruddy face grew pale, and he 
 started back with a veritable alarm, when Master 
 Cocardas, the barber, drawing him and Lambert 
 a little aside, whispered in their ears, with a 
 mysterious air of embarrassment, that the old 
 crone was none other than Mother Jehanne, a- 
 well-known sorceress from the Place Maubert ; 
 in the obscure districts about which, he went on 
 to say, no less than thirty thousand magicians, 
 diviners, and casters of spells, were supposed to 
 dwell. 
 
 "But Mother Jehanne," he pursued, " loves 
 to frequent the public places ; for she is as bold 
 and heedless of harm as a hot copper, upon 
 which no man dare lay a finger ; and they do 
 say that there is many a dame who listens to her 
 divinations. Not but I ever heard her prophesy 
 aught but evil, like an old croker as she is. She 
 is an awful woman, however." 
 
 The mercer again spat on the ground at 
 this diabolical announcement, which brave little 
 Master Barber himself did not appear to deliver 
 without some trepidation; and the two were 
 silent, and shook their heads for a time. 
 
 The butcher was the first to speak again.
 
 32 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 " Maybe there is more mischief than malefice 
 in her," he said to his companions ; and, taking 
 from a small pouch attached round his waist 
 a trifling coin, he flung it to the woman, who 
 caught it adroitly, and rapidly clutched her 
 fingers over it in one skinny hand. " There, 
 Mother Jehanne," he continued aloud, " there's 
 a smooth coin to smooth thy tongue withal, 
 if smoothed down it can be. Canst divine 
 me my fortunes, beldame ? " 
 
 " That were no hard matter," replied the old 
 crone, coming forward, to the great disgust of 
 Master Bourdon the mercer. 
 
 " Have a care, neighbour Lambert, that you 
 are not perilling your blessed soul," he said, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " No fear of that," replied the butcher, 
 although he crossed himself piously ; " Father 
 Eustace, the holy confessor of our blessed guild 
 of St. Jacques, will absolve me of all evil." 
 
 " No hard matter, indeed," muttered Mother 
 Jehanne, looking the butcher fixedly in the face ; 
 and then, drawing herself up, and pointing one 
 long skeleton arm aloft, as if to give herself an 
 air of inspiration, she added, " There is blood
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 33 
 
 upon thy arms, man of strength — there is blood 
 upon thy brow. That blood may dry — that blood 
 may be washed away- — but there is more blood — 
 more blood to come — fresh, and rich, and rare." 
 
 " No wonder, beldame," said the butcher, half 
 laughing. '* It wants no divining power to read 
 me such a riddle. Thou seest it is my trade to 
 deal with it." 
 
 " But the blood is not the blood of oxen, or 
 of sheep, or of lambs," continued the pretended 
 devineress ; " it is the blood of the sacrifice for 
 
 wrongs — it is the blood of " she paused, and 
 
 looked upwards, as if consulting the heavens. 
 
 " Of whom ?— of what ? " asked the butcher, 
 eagerly, although he still affected to laugh. 
 
 The old woman nodded her head mysteriously. 
 
 " Of whom, I ask ? Out with thy say, woman," 
 said Lambert, impatiently. 
 
 Mother Jehanne crept up to his side, and, 
 putting her mouth close to his ear, whis- 
 pered, "The blood of the Armagnac!" With 
 these words, she waved her finger with an air of 
 warning, and drew back, still gazing fixedly 
 upon the butcher's face, as if to impose upon 
 him by her gestures. 
 
 c 3
 
 34< THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 " What did she say ? " asked his two neigh- 
 bours, with one breath. 
 
 " No matter," replied Lambert, growing 
 rather pale : and it was in vain that his com- 
 panions pressed upon him for a further answer. 
 
 " Blood ! blood!" continued to mutter the 
 old woman, who had returned to her seat, en- 
 sconced between the two bales, and again rocked 
 herself backwards and forwards with violent 
 agitation, as if moved by some internal spirit, 
 in spite of herself. " Blood and poison ! — the 
 river runs with blood, and hurries dark corpses 
 along with it; and maybe the wells and springs 
 shall soon yield poisoned waters, and not pure 
 streams of health ;" and she continued to move 
 herself to and fro, although she glanced once, with 
 a malicious look, out of the corners of her eyes, 
 as if to see what effect the words would make 
 upon the men beside her. 
 
 " The old beldame is not far wrong, after 
 all," said Master Bourdon the mercer, although 
 he had looked at her as if he would fain have 
 driven her away from among his bales, had he 
 not feared she might have cast a spell on him or 
 them. " Why are the people forbidden to bathe
 
 THE LILT OF PARIS. 35 
 
 in the Seine, if it be not for fear they should 
 count the bodies of the drowned ? But the 
 Armagnac is master, and he does his will," he 
 added cautiously. 
 
 "Yes; the Armagnac is master," said the 
 barber: "and after all, provided our gallants 
 still trim their locks and bathe in warm baths, 
 and not in the dirty Seine — ay, and buy 
 stuffs, Master Bourdon — and eat good beef and 
 mutton, Master Lambert — what matter to us?" 
 " Ah ! had they not suppressed our great 
 meetings," began Lambert, sulkily, " and taken 
 away half the privileges of our butchers' guild, 
 and abolished our ancient and hereditary rights, 
 and allowed every hacker and hewer who can 
 wield an axe to be a butcher if he list, the 
 Armagnac might have sturdy friends among us 
 still, and not — " He paused, and tossed his 
 head angrily. 
 
 " To be sure, your guild has been much 
 shorn of its good old fashions, Master Butcher," 
 said Cocardas, " but — " 
 
 " And deprived the citizens of their arms, 
 and yet forced them to do military duty, — even 
 unto the well-doing, well-established mercers,
 
 36 THE LILY OP PAKIS. 
 
 who are married withal, and wanted at home," 
 broke in Bourdon, who, in spite of his habitual 
 caution, appeared to be moved in his turn by 
 some disagreeable recollections. 
 
 " It is, doubtless, a hard trial for a man of 
 refined manners and delicate constitution," said 
 the barber, " but — " 
 
 " And obliged us to work upon the fortifi- 
 cations," resumed the butcher, warming with 
 the remembrance of his wrongs. 
 
 " Of a truth, a most laborious occupation," 
 interposed the barber, " but — " 
 
 " And to clean out the trenches," pursued 
 the mercer. 
 
 " Most inodorous and unseemly, certainly, to 
 a fine nose," said Cocardas again, " but — " 
 
 " Hold thy foolish tongue, Master J But,' " 
 burst forth the butcher, who had now finally 
 worked himself up into a passion. " And ■ but' 
 us no more with thy sheep's head, or perchance 
 I may, butt thee." 
 
 " Sheep's head, mine!" murmured Cocardas, 
 interjectionally, indignant at this aspersion of 
 his dapper upper man. 
 
 " The truth is, we have been done foul
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 37 
 
 wrong, neighbours. We are honest, we master 
 butchers, as the world well knows, and the good 
 city of Paris," continued Lambert sturdily; 
 " and we have loyal hearts in our bosoms ; and 
 we do pious service at the fair church of St. 
 Jacques la Boucherie. We know, moreover, 
 that the evils of the land arise from the unhappy 
 malady of our good king — whom God preserve 
 and restore to sane mind ! and that this malady 
 is a sign of the wrath of the Almighty, who 
 has stricken the poor king for his sins, as he 
 struck whilom his brother Louis of Orleans, and 
 that we must submit to the finger of Heaven. 
 I could not tell you better if I were Father 
 Eustace himself, from whose mouth I learn such 
 matters, to my profit. We know, too, that the 
 fair youth, the dauphin, still remains to us : 
 and in him we place our sole hope, fearing only 
 that the Heavenly wrath may fall on him also, 
 seeing that he goes a foolish and a thoughtless 
 path, to the great scandal of all honest citizens ; 
 seeking his bed of down when they rise to 
 labour, and rising to commit unseemly extra- 
 vagances when they lie down ; and hanging
 
 38 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 jewels and gold about his person, when, may- 
 hap, many poor citizens are starving; and 
 spending his time in dancing and music, instead 
 of knightly and warlike exercises as a man, — ay ! 
 and profaning church music, and the choristers 
 of the church and of the service of our Blessed 
 Lady, to the use of these worldly follies. And 
 we know, my beloved brethren, — I mean my 
 good neighbours" — for the honest butcher, in 
 his indignation, had got into the midst of one 
 of Father Eustace's sermons, — " that it is our 
 duty, if we would reform this unhappy kingdom, 
 to reform the heir of the estate, and drive from 
 his person all such lewd companions as lead him 
 astray, and watch over his weal bodily and 
 spiritual. But" — and the butcher burst again 
 into a fit of sturdy passion, thrusting forwards 
 his bloody arms, and clenching his fists, as if 
 still wielding his axe, — " is that a reason why 
 we should suffer the Armagnac, because he is 
 present adviser to king and dauphin, to send 
 clown his villanous Gascons upon us, to vex, 
 and harry, and kill, and destroy, and gnaw us to 
 the bone ? Is that a reason why we should suffer 
 the Armagnac — "
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 39 
 
 M The devil in man's hide !" screeched Mother 
 Jehanne with a shrill laugh. 
 
 " That devil in man's hide," continued the 
 excited butcher, catching up that term, already 
 familiar to the ears of the Parisian population, 
 " to plunge us into ruin and misery at his will ? 
 "Was not peace already offered by Burgundy ? 
 and did not both king and dauphin consent ? 
 And when we thought the blessing within our 
 grasp — when already the people cried ( Noel J 
 Long live the king ! Long live the peace !' who 
 forbade the peace, because he knew that peace 
 would hurl him from his usurped power by the 
 king's side, and in the king's name ? who plunged 
 us again into disappointment and despair ? Who, 
 I ask? The Armagnac — the Constable. And I 
 for one — were there many such bold hearts in 
 our good city of Paris — I for one" — 
 
 " Hush! I pray you, in your turn, hush!" 
 cried the more cautious mercer, looking around 
 him upon the small crowd assembling around 
 them, with alarm ; " you know not what you 
 say, Master Lambert." 
 
 Cocardas had fairly slunk away, as fast as his
 
 40 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 slim shanks could carry him, unwilling to be 
 compromised in the possible effect of theharangue 
 of his " gossip," the butcher. 
 
 Lambert held his peace, upon this expostu- 
 lation of his neighbour : but he folded his stout 
 arms about him, and looked around with an air of 
 stern resolution and defiance. His passion, how r - 
 ever, seemed to be calming down, when a monk 
 with a lame foot, who had limped up to the as- 
 sembled crow T d a few moments before, looked at 
 him with a sneer upon his pale and haggard face. 
 
 The monk was a man of small stature, and 
 moved with difficulty, from his lameness ; but 
 there was a fire in his dark hollow eyes, as far 
 as they could be seen beneath his cowl, which 
 told of restlessness, and perhaps deep and ardent 
 thought, in that slender and crippled form. The 
 white mantle and cowl that he wore, as a monk 
 of the Carmelite order, set off in strange con- 
 trast the dark tints of his withered face, and its 
 equally dark and uneasy expression. He was 
 followed by another member of the same order, 
 who, however superior in size and stature his 
 portly well-fed form might make him, seemed to
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 41 
 
 hold back with a sort of habit of deference to 
 his companion. Upon his arrival, the lame monk 
 had cast one rapid glance at the form of Mother 
 Jehanne sitting by, and suffered a smile of grim 
 satisfaction to flit over his thin lips. The old 
 woman, however, gave no sign of recognition in 
 return to this glance, and continued to rock 
 herself backwards and forwards. 
 
 " Peace be with you, my friends," said the 
 lame monk, after a pause, which was filled up 
 by the murmurings of -the small crowd among 
 themselves. " Heard I not voices of complaint 
 and strife among you ? But you are calm now : 
 and patience is one of the cardinal virtues. 
 Patience and peace be with you, then." In 
 pronouncing these words, however, the tone 
 of the monk became one of irony, in spite of 
 himself, as it were. " Let us suffer in silence, 
 although the altars of our Blessed Mother be 
 violated, and her treasuries robbed — although 
 the servants of the church are dragged from the 
 very altars' steps, and, mockingly dressed in 
 saintly robes, are walled up in dungeons to 
 die — although the ornaments of the shrine
 
 42 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 are seized to satisfy the lusts of ruffians and 
 robbers — " 
 
 " And such is the misery of the church, that 
 not a puff of smoke ever comes now from the 
 empty kitchens of our poor houses," chimed in 
 with a deep sigh his well-fed companion, put- 
 ting forward his fat swollen face. 
 
 The lame monk cast a withering glance upon 
 his follower, as if to bid him hold his peace, and 
 then continued — 
 
 " But nevertheless, let us suffer. Patience 
 be with you, brethren ; peace be among you!" 
 
 A murmur arose among the crowd at these 
 words: and the butcher again raised his head 
 boldly and sternly. But, perhaps the words had 
 not had the full effect upon the gathering popu- 
 lace, which was intended by the ironical tone 
 employed; for as the monk prepared to pass 
 on with his acolyte, and pulled his cowl more 
 deeply over his face, he gave one last sharp 
 glance at the people around him, and drew him- 
 self up to the full height of his longer leg. 
 
 " The dog is born to bear the stick upon his 
 back ; but he will howl," he said ; " the sheep
 
 THE LILY 01 PARIS. 4o 
 
 to be shorn of his fleece; but he will bleat. But 
 the citizen of Paris may be stricken, and he 
 dares not howl : he may be shorn, and he dares 
 not bleat. Good men ! worthy citizens ! excel- 
 lent Christians. So be it ! Again, peace be 
 among you, my brethren ! and patience abide 
 with you ! " And, with these words, the lame 
 monk hobbled away, and disappeared with his 
 companion, but not without having given a 
 stealthy and imperative sign, as he passed, to 
 Mother Jehanne. 
 
 The gathering crowd had now begun to ag- 
 glomerate and obstruct the thoroughfare : it 
 consisted of workmen with the implements of 
 their several trades in their hands, veritable 
 arms if necessary — assistant butchers with their 
 knives at their leathern girdles — several appren- 
 tices, who had rushed out from their shops at this 
 a>pect of an appearance of commotion, waving 
 their ell-wands for want of better weapons— a 
 few scholars from the university with stout sticks 
 in their hands, — and no small quantity of that 
 refuse of a city's population, ill-looking men of 
 an indescribable nature, who seem suddenly to
 
 44 THE LILY OE PAEIS. 
 
 arise out of the earth, as it were, although previ- 
 ously invisible, who come no one knows whence, 
 who go no one knows whither, but who always 
 appear there, where confusion seethes, at the 
 moment of its boiling over, like evil spirits in a 
 play — apparitions known at all times and in all 
 generations in the fermenting city of Paris — all 
 mixed up with those necessary ingredients of 
 all crowds, women and children, who of crowds 
 must form a part, whatever be the danger. The 
 low murmurings began to roll up like distant 
 thunder, and increased violently after the last 
 flashes of the monk's irony were darted among 
 them. There was every symptom of the germ 
 of an emeute. 
 
 Lambert, the butcher, for a moment hung 
 down his head, as if oppressed with shame ; but 
 now he raised it, glowing with a dark flush of 
 red about his temples. 
 
 " No," he cried aloud, " the monk belies us ! 
 We are not sheep, that we should be shorn — 
 we are not dogs, that we should be stricken ! " 
 
 " No, no ! " echoed several voices. 
 
 " Down with the Armagnac ! Down with
 
 THE LILT OP PARIS. 45 
 
 the Constable ! w screeched the shrill, harsh voice 
 of Mother Jehanne. And when the mercer, 
 who had seized on the shoulder of his neighbour 
 the butcher, to caution him to be prudent and 
 forbear, turned round, she too had disappeared. 
 
 " Down with the Constable ! " shouted the 
 crowd, in return to this first cry of resistance 
 and rebellion. 
 
 " Yes ! down with the Armagnac ! " cried 
 Lambert, his light blue eyes glaring with his 
 excitement. " We will suffer his tyranny no 
 longer ! " 
 
 "In Jesu's name, be quiet, neighbour!" 
 stammered Bourdon. " You'll have the Gascons 
 upon us ; and we men of substance can only 
 lose by violence ; we shall be robbed and ruined! 
 Neighbour, neighbour, forbear ! " 
 
 But the butcher heeded him no longer ; his 
 hasty blood was up, and he continued to ex- 
 claim, " Down with the Armagnac ! " — a cry 
 to which the shouts of almost the entire crowd 
 responded ; the women and children shouting 
 the loudest. 
 
 " Holy Mother of Heaven ! we are lost men ! "
 
 46 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 said the cautious mercer, hurrying back to his 
 shop, and proceeding to snatch away from the 
 counter, open upon the street, the goods that 
 furnished it forth. 
 
 " Down w T ith the Annagnac ! " shouted an 
 apprentice, springing upon one of Master Bour- 
 don's bales. " He has caused our linens and 
 cloths to be seized in our shops ! And know 
 ye what for ? Know ye what for, I say ? " 
 
 " To make tents for his damnable army of 
 Gascons ! " shouted a voice. 
 
 " No," continued to cry the apprentice ; " for 
 sacks, to throw all the citizens into the river. 
 I had it from some of those foul men-at-arms 
 themselves." 
 
 A shout of horror followed this terrific an- 
 nouncement. 
 
 " And they have sworn to murder all the 
 members of the guilds, for fear of their associa- 
 tion," now exclaimed a punchy, beetle-browed 
 man, struggling up on a stone bench with 
 difficulty. 
 
 " And when, after I had worked for five and 
 twenty days upon their great war machine there,
 
 THE LILY 01 PARTS. 4/ 
 
 on the walls," broke in a workman, who, 
 mounting in turn upon the mercer's unlucky- 
 bale, and knocking over the apprentice in his 
 zeal, brandished a pick-axe in his hand, " I 
 asked the Constable for my pay, he only an- 
 swered, 'Hast thou not a sou, clod of earth, to 
 buy thee a rope and go hang thyself?" 
 
 u A rope for the Constable himself!" cried 
 the assemblage. 
 
 " Death to the Constable, and long live Bur- 
 gundy ! " came the shrill cry of the old woman 
 from the outskirts of the crowd. 
 
 This new cry was caught up; and " Long 
 live Burgundy ! " followed " Down with Ar- 
 magnac ! " 
 
 The tumult began to grow wilder, when, all 
 at once, other cries arose from the furthermost 
 of the throng. 
 
 " The Gascons ! The men at arms ! They 
 are upon us ! " 
 
 " Run ! Run for it ! " shouted some. 
 
 u No ! stand like men ! " cried Lambert, 
 who had rushed to fetch his axe. u Let us 
 teach them that the citizens of Paris can pre- 
 serve their rights !"
 
 48 THE LILY OF PA1US. 
 
 The lances of an armed company of horsemen, 
 galloping up the street, now glittered in the air. 
 The soldiers rushed forward, occupying the whole 
 breadth of the street, and trampling down with- 
 out mercy every passenger upon their path who 
 could not fly for refuge to the houses. Down 
 they came upon the crowd, thrusting and cut- 
 ting indiscriminately, with lance and sword, men 
 old and young, women and children ; striking 
 some, trampling others to the earth, not sparing 
 even those who fled to house-corners or door- 
 ways, sweeping before them all. A few cries 
 of " Vengeance ! " and " Down with the Arma- 
 gnac!" alone were proffered; and they grew 
 weaker and weaker. Shrieks and lamentations 
 arose on all sides ; and men, women, and chil- 
 dren fled howling, driven before the broad 
 galloping line of men-at-arms, like the leaves of 
 autumn before a whirlwind. 
 
 The butcher, Lambert, resisted stoutly with 
 his axe, wounding some of the soldiery, and 
 shouting like a madman : but he was almost the 
 only one who stood his ground ; and he was 
 soon hemmed in, seized by some of the men, 
 and bound with the cords which all of them
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 49 
 
 wore twisted around their waists, in spite of 
 his struggles and his shouts for rescue and ven- 
 geance. Like a baited bull, he was soon felled, 
 and dragged along by the horsemen. 
 
 In an incredibly short space of time, the 
 street was cleared; and a deserted aspect fell 
 upon it suddenly, like that of the plain where 
 the whirlwind has passed. Here and there lay 
 the wounded and injured, like trees torn from 
 their roots ; and a sound of groaning and curs- 
 ing was to be heard, like the distant moaning 
 of the storm' gone by. But the sufferers were 
 hastily dragged away by friends or compassionate 
 citizens; and after the brief, fierce tumult, came 
 a comparative calm. Still there was a murmur, 
 either near or 'distant, on the air, that sounded 
 ominous of evil, and ceased not in the city. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE OEIEL WINDOW. 
 
 Here 's much to do with hate, hut more with love. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Yet, spite of all that Nature did 
 To make his uncouth form forhid, 
 This creature dared to love. 
 
 Parnell. 
 
 Mother Jehanne had adroitly retreated from 
 the scene of tumult, which her inflammatory 
 words, whether uttered merely as belonging to 
 her assumed character of a sorceress and de- 
 vineress, or with a still deeper design, had evi- 
 dently contributed so greatly to excite: but when 
 the street, a few minutes before so thronged, so 
 rife with bustle, animation, life, assumed the 
 dead and desert aspect which followed the onset 
 of the Armagnac men-at-arms, her withered 
 face might be seen again peeping from behind 
 the turreted angle of the barber-bather's esta- 
 blishment, at the corner of the lane opposite to
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 51 
 
 the mercer's dwelling ; while, with her skinny 
 fingers, she counted the number of the wounded 
 and bruised, who were being dragged away, or 
 limped off, or still lay upon the ground ; and 
 she laughed the while, although without open- 
 ing the compressed lips of her fallen mouth, 
 but wagging her lower jaw continually, as if 
 still employed in munching some invisible food. 
 When this occupation was finished, she rubbed 
 her hands with satisfaction, settled her dirty 
 coif upon her head, combed her fingers through 
 her tangled grizzled locks, and sat down upon 
 the step of the mysterious side-door opening 
 into the bathing establishment, to which the 
 butcher had satirically alluded, as if awaiting 
 some appointment. 
 
 As she thus sat, her eyes — which, although as 
 dim and pale and lustreless as those of a dead 
 fish — eyes the colour of which had been 
 washed out by many tears, or by the rheums 
 of age, and, deeply sunk within their red lids, 
 were ever moving about in a state of restless 
 observation, — fell upon the form of a young man, 
 who, leaning with folded arms against a dead 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 
 fllNOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 wall on the opposite side of the,lane, looked across 
 the main street unmoved, and seemingly im- 
 movable, upon the mercer's dwelling, — or rather 
 upon a small sculptured oriel window, in one 
 of the projecting angles of the house, before 
 which a few flower-pots, filled with the budding 
 flowers of spring, and placed upon a stone ledge, 
 seemed to announce that there was some fair 
 hand within to tend them. 
 
 Mother Jehanne gazed long upon the youth, 
 with a curiosity, and almost an emotion, incom- 
 prehensible to herself; for, although acute ob- 
 servation of all men and things seemed to be 
 a part of her trade, yet she could scarcely 
 herself account for her eager study of the being 
 before her, unless it were by the attraction that 
 a good mien involuntarily commands : and she 
 — oh ! she was far beyond the years when good 
 looks cause the bosom to beat — she had no 
 longer a heart to feel sympathy and affection — 
 she might have found ugliness, and deformity, 
 and misery, more congenial to her feelings. 
 
 The young man seemed to be about one-and- 
 tv/enty years of age. His frame appeared one
 
 THE LILY Or PARIS. 53 
 
 of power and muscle — for be was tall, and his 
 shoulders were broad, and bis bearing erect and 
 bold — although too thin for perfect symmetry. 
 His face possessed a certain degree of beauty, 
 although again too thin and fallen about the 
 cheeks to be called decidedly handsome: and 
 while, on the one hand, there was a look of rest- 
 less passion and strong feeling about bis brow, 
 now knit together, now raised, and now bent low, 
 which showed an ardent and excitable tempera- 
 ment ; there was, on the other, an expression of 
 determination, almost obstinacy, about his firmly 
 set and somewhat heavy jaw, which marred 
 the sympathy that might be excited by that 
 passionate and consequently poetical look : the 
 marked expression of both these traits of cha- 
 racter, however, were now greatly merged in 
 the general vacant and absorbed air, with which 
 he kept his gaze fixed upon the window of the 
 mercer's house. His eyebrows were dark, and 
 somewhat too strongly marked ; his complexion 
 was of a deep olive brown and very pale ; his hair 
 almost black, and hanging down about the con- 
 tour of his face, straight and lank, but turned up
 
 54 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 inwardly with a heavy roll of curl all round, 
 before it fully reached his shoulders : and 
 amidst these swarthy tints gleamed out a pair 
 of fine dark grey eyes, deeply set beneath his 
 overhanging brow. His cloth cap, turned up 
 on all sides and forming a peak before, was 
 thrust back carelessly upon his head, and dis- 
 played a wide, open forehead. He was dressed 
 in a tightly fitting vest of green cloth, open at 
 the bend of the arm so as to leave the shirt- 
 sleeves visible; and pantaloons of the same 
 colour and texture showed off the proportions 
 of his thin but muscular limbs ; his shoes of 
 half-tanned leather, which rose barely above 
 the ankle, and then flapped over, were long 
 and sharply pointed, as was the fashion of the 
 times, although not turned up according to the 
 exaggerated mode of the young nobles. A 
 girdle of light-coloured leather, encircling his 
 slim waist, held suspended not only his leathern 
 pouch but also a sort of dagger, or cutlass, with 
 a broad curved blade, which he wore in spite of 
 the late edict against carrying of arms by citi- 
 zens except when on active military duty ; its
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 55 
 
 highly polished hilt seemed to tell that the 
 hand of the wearer was accustomed frequently 
 to handle and caress it. His whole appear- 
 ance was that of one who, if not decidedly 
 handsome, struck upon the fancy and com- 
 manded attention. 
 
 All these particulars did not escape the habi- 
 tual powers of observation of the devineress. 
 But after gazing at him, for a considerable 
 time, with that fixed and intense look, of the 
 magnetizing powers of which experience had 
 rendered her aware, she got restless and impa- 
 tient upon finding that it failed of its usual 
 effect, and that the young man never removed 
 his eyes, for a moment, from the object upon 
 which he looked. At length she rose, as if no 
 longer able to control the feeling that urged 
 her, and hobbling across the lane, stood by the 
 young man's side. It was not, however, until 
 she had placed a skeleton hand with hard gripe 
 upon his shoulder, that he started and turned 
 to look upon the person who demanded his 
 attention. 
 
 " There is more to be read upon thy face,
 
 56 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 young man," she said, still holding him by the 
 shoulder at arm's length, and gazing upon him 
 earnestly, " than monk or churchman might 
 find in many a book of lore." 
 
 "What want you with me, woman?" ex- 
 claimed the young man, startled from his 
 reverie ; " if it be alms, take what I can give, 
 for poor and wretched enough you seem to be ; 
 and leave me, leave me ! I have business ; 
 I cannot — will not be disturbed." And, with 
 these words, he thrust his fingers into the open- 
 ing of his pouch to seek some coin. 
 
 " Not from thee, young man — not from thee," 
 replied the old crone, releasing her hand, and 
 waving it with an air of refusal. " And yet 
 I know not why I will not take an alms from 
 thee, — for thou sayest truly, I am poor, and 
 thou art to me but a stranger, — as the first 
 foolish gull that' I might meet beneath a porch, 
 or at a street corner. But still, I will not. 
 No." 
 
 "Go, then," said the young man; although 
 no longer harshly. " I know you not. I can 
 do nought for you, say you. Leave me, now."
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 57 
 
 But the old woman did not stir, and continued 
 to look upon him intently. 
 
 U A fair brow, and a bold," she pursued, 
 assuming her mystic air. " There is that 
 written on it which proclaims great deeds, and 
 high and mighty fortunes. There is about it 
 the glory of a name, as the golden glory about 
 the brow of an enshrined saint. Thy brow is 
 a fair one and a bold, young man." 
 
 *' You are a sorceress, then," said the young 
 man, with one gleam of satisfaction, as if 
 averted from his preoccupation for a moment) 
 and touched, in spite of himself, by this pro- 
 phecy ; the next moment, however, he added 
 impatiently, " But I want no trick of thy trade 
 now, beldame. Go; leave me, I say,'" 
 
 " There is courage in thine eye," pursued 
 Mother Jehanne, disregarding his command ; 
 " and yet thou standest here, and heedest not 
 the cry of thy fellow-citizens, as they are wor- 
 ried by the hounds of Armagnac. There is 
 resolution in thy lip ; and yet thou remainest 
 with folded arms, indifferent, while suffering 
 Paris utters its bitter howl to the sky, in misery. 
 D 3
 
 58 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Didst thou not see, but now, how the poor 
 innocent lambs were cut to the earth by the 
 butcher ? Didst thou not hear — and the moan 
 still rings upon the air — the cry and the curse 
 — the cry of despair, and the malediction upon 
 the devil in man's hide ?" 
 
 "What mattered it to me?" replied the 
 young man, with increased impatience. " Let 
 the foolish railers pay for their folly." 
 
 et What matters it to thee ?" echoed the 
 old woman. " I tell thee, there is that writ 
 upon thy face, which read aright, would say 
 that it shall matter much. What matters it to 
 thee ? It matters much to all who dwell within 
 the walls of this most wretched city, that the 
 villain Armagnac grinds it to the dust, and 
 kneads that dust with the gore of its inhabit- 
 ants to mould himself a crown of power ! It 
 matters much, I say, when traitors, and usurpers, 
 and assassins rule the city." 
 
 " But this is treason, woman! Peace, I say !" 
 exclaimed the young man. " You are beside 
 yourself, to utter such foul words in public 
 thoroughfares."
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 59 
 
 " There are no ears but thine to hear me," 
 pursued Mother Jehanne, undaunted ; " and 
 thou art no traitor. I can read that in thine 
 eye." 
 
 "Traitor, I am none — traitor! never!" ex- 
 claimed the young man, with more animation 
 than he had yet shown ; " nor can I hear 
 treason spoken thus." 
 
 if Is it treason," continued the old woman, 
 taking a more whining tone, " to cry when thou 
 art maimed ? to flinch, when thy skin is flayed 
 from thy back ? Is it treason when the oppressed 
 flings back his tear of blood upon the head of 
 the oppressor, and kisses not his hand nor licks 
 his feet ?" 
 
 " What matters this to me, I say again ?" cried 
 the young man, angrily. " Let who will rule 
 the land, provided he touch not me, and those 
 whose very hair upon their heads is dear to me. 
 Go, I tell you, beldame, and leave me in peace." 
 
 But Mother Jehanne seemed still unwilling 
 to give up her object. 
 
 " What fascinates me in thy face, I know 
 not," she recommenced, while the young man
 
 60 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 shrugged his shoulders, with a vexed air. t( Why 
 I should care for thee, more than for the first 
 senseless soul that, heedless of the woes of 
 others, slumbers in its selfishness, I cannot tell. 
 But so fate wills it." 
 
 Perhaps the old woman was once more about to 
 assume an air of prophetic inspiration, but seeing 
 that the young man had turned his back upon 
 her, and again fixed his eyes upon the window 
 on the other side of the street, she crept closer 
 to him, so as almost to put her mouth to his 
 ear ; and, altering her tone, she proceeded in 
 a loud whisper : — 
 
 " Thou hast no eyes to see ; thou hast no 
 ears to hear. Thou art young and likely. Then 
 I can read thee thy riddle, without stars or 
 book, or water-bowl, or pan. Thou art in love. 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 The young man turned quickly, with a faint 
 flush of colour in his pale cheek. 
 
 " I tell thee I will not listen to thy folly," he 
 stammered, after a pause. 
 
 " Thou art in love !" cried Mother Jehanne, 
 again ; " and love renders blinder and deafer
 
 THE LILY 01 PARIS. 61 
 
 than old age, my sweet gallant: it renders blind 
 and deaf to the wail and the woe of others. 
 Love is selfish — selfish ever. A pretty toy is a 
 soft heart ; but soft as it be within, hard as flint 
 is the rind it bears without." 
 
 " What know you of love or me?" broke in 
 the young man angrily. " Begone, before I 
 force you." 
 
 The old woman hobbled a little aside, out of 
 the reach of the young man's arm. 
 
 M Is it the mercer's buxom wife?" she said 
 with a grin. " Sooth to say, she has a pretty 
 face and a well rounded bosom." 
 
 The young man threw his head on one side, 
 indignantly ; but there was no flush of colour 
 now in his pale face. 
 
 " No matter," pursued Mother Jehanne. 
 " Pastime — pastime, all ! And there is more in 
 thee than such folly of a heyday hour. Thy 
 love is of a day, and as such, will die ! " 
 
 The victim of the old woman's alternate zeal 
 and raillery was growing more impatient, when 
 suddenly a sharp whistle came from the end of 
 the lane furthest from the street. Mother
 
 62 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Jehanne turned, as at a well known signal ; and 
 in the vista were to be seen the forms of two 
 Carmelite monks, who passed quickly on and 
 disappeared, the one limping hastily forwards, 
 the other following him with a portly swagger. 
 
 The old crone paused for a moment, looked 
 again fixedly upon the young man, shook her 
 head, and with the words, " Our paths are so 
 laid down that they will cross again," shuffled 
 away in the direction of the end of the lane. 
 
 The young man had remained regardless of 
 any incident but the departure of his tormentor, 
 and had again turned to gaze upon the window, 
 on which, although no face appeared at it, a 
 bright gleam of sunlight had fallen, playing 
 gaily with the flowers; and it was like an 
 augury of future happiness to his heart. 
 
 The lover — for such he evidently appeared to 
 be — rernained long at his post of observation, 
 his eyes unmoved, watching each gleam and 
 shade that flitted across the narrow panes of that 
 small oriel window, and exhibiting no other 
 signs of impatience — although patience may 
 have been judged not to have been one of the
 
 THE LILY OP TARIS. G3 
 
 virtues of his character — than the occasional 
 nervous movement of his dark eyebrows. 
 
 As he thus still stood absorbed, regardless of 
 the few passengers who went by in the narrow 
 lane, another young man turned the corner of 
 the barber's house, and stopped. His first 
 thought seemed to be to look up also to that 
 same window, and to heave a heavy sigh. But, 
 almost at the same moment, he became aware of 
 the form of the person close by. His next 
 movement was then to draw back : but upon 
 second thoughts he shook his head with a 
 gesture of vexation, as if ashamed of such an 
 act of weakness, coloured highly, shuddered 
 with a sort of nervous tremor, and sighed 
 again. 
 
 This new comer was a youth dressed in a suit 
 of rusty black serge, which had evidently seen 
 long service, and was worn and patched about the 
 knees and elbows, although as clean as its present 
 state permitted it : on his head he wore a round 
 flat cap, the colour of which had been originally 
 black, although now softened down into a dirty 
 brown, and from beneath which his light rough
 
 64 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 flaxen hair fell down in shaggy mass upon his 
 shoulders ; and on his back was hung a species 
 of cloak of black stuff, with long hanging sleeves 
 that almost reached the ground, the time-worn 
 rags of which were carefully tacked together. 
 His belt was of black leather; and from this 
 girdle hung also a pouch, the flattened sides of 
 which seemed to tell that it contained not much 
 within : on the other side, in the place of 
 the cutlass worn by the other young man, was 
 suspended a horn with a closed metal covering, 
 such as was sometimes worn at the period, to 
 contain all the necessary implements for writing. 
 If the appearance of the first young man was 
 striking, without decided or regular beauty, that 
 of the last comer, who was perhaps a little 
 younger, was decidedly plain. His face was long 
 and lantern-jawed ; and upon the hollow cheeks 
 rested a patch, rather than a glow, of colour, 
 which seemed to indicate a consumptive tem- 
 perament : his mouth was large — his nose long 
 and thin : his pale and somewhat prominent light 
 eyes were heavy and languid about the lids, but 
 wore an expression of touching melancholy,
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 65 
 
 which became piteous to see as he looked upon 
 the lover at his post. His frail fkure was spare 
 and bent, and seemed to have been bowed, by 
 suffering in health, almost to deformity, so 
 sunken was his heavy head between his shoulders: 
 his gait was staggering, as if his legs were almost 
 too weak to support his body, spare and slender 
 as it was. Illfavoured as was his whole appear- 
 ance, however, it was one that must have inspired 
 pity more than dislike, and might have excited 
 sympathy by the expression of his eyes. 
 
 The sickly, crooked youth set his lips together 
 with a hard pressure, and then allowed a con- 
 vulsive movement of a peculiar kind to flit over 
 his mouth and his brow, as if with an uncon- 
 trollable feeling of irritability and vexation, 
 while he gazed painfully, for a time, at his 
 companion. But this look died away almost as 
 quickly as it came ; and the whole expression of 
 that poor face faded into its habitual tender air 
 of melancholy. He walked, as calmly and boldly 
 as his customary gait permitted him, to the other 
 young man, and saluted him with a voice so soft, 
 so musical, that it must have immediately done
 
 66 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 away with all disagreeable impressions his plain 
 face and ungainly figure might have created. 
 
 " Perrinet, kind friend," he said, with a faint 
 attempt at a careless smile of gaiety, " dost thou 
 intend to grow against that naked wall as an 
 ivy bush, or wouldst thou become a great painted 
 marmouset for its adornment ? Methinks Jupiter 
 is about to work upon thee some such meta- 
 morphosis as we read of in the sweet poet Ovid, 
 so immovable dost thou stand there. What hast 
 thou done to irritate the great king of the 
 gods?" 
 
 "Yvon!" exclaimed in a vexed tone the 
 young man addressed as Perrinet, starting up 
 from his leaning posture, " how earnest thou 
 hither ? Why didst thou seek me here ? I did 
 not call thee ; I do not need thee ; officiousness 
 is no proof of loving friendship ; and the closest 
 brotherhood shrinks back from importunity." 
 
 " I did not seek thee, Perrinet," said Yvon 
 mildly, in answer to the harsh tone and words ; 
 " if my path has crossed thine, it has been be- 
 cause chance has traced it." Another flitting flush 
 of colour passed, like the shadow of a cloud,
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. ' G7 
 
 rapidly over Yvon's face at these words; but 
 then, commanding this transient feeling of em- 
 barrassment, he added, " But why say I chance ? 
 Is it by chance that the iron follows the load- 
 stone, although it be unconsciously, as I have 
 followed thee ?" And as he spoke, a gentle smile 
 played over the lips of Yvon's large misshapen 
 mouth, like a faint gleam of suulight on the 
 maelstrom. 
 
 " But what has brought thee from thy studies 
 at the grave professor's feet yon side the Seine, 
 thou most sage and assiduous of scholars of our 
 good university of Paris?" said Perrinet more 
 kindly, as if unable to resist the softening in- 
 fluence of that smile ; " Thy poetry is pretty 
 enough, dreamer : but poetry is not truth, 
 amice. There thou hast a word of thine own 
 scholarship, methinks." 
 
 The colour deepened now more than ever 
 upon the hectic face of the poor scholar ; and he 
 cast down his eyes in embarrassment before he 
 spoke again. 
 
 " Poetry is truth," he said at last, without 
 looking up, "the truth of the heart and feel- 
 ings. Can I ever forget thy kindness to the
 
 68 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 poor kloarek, as in my native land of Brittany 
 they call us poor houseless wandering scholars, 
 who are compelled to beg — ay, to beg from door 
 to door, in order to live and learn : and learning 
 to us is more than life, thou knowest ; — whose 
 lodging in the winter is the stable or the shed 
 — whose dwelling in the summer is the shady 
 bank by the brook side — whose food is the 
 scanty remnant, bestowed ofttimes by kindly 
 hearts scarce less poor than the poor kloarek 
 himself — whose little knowledge is gleaned from 
 the compassionate priest or monk — whose 
 greatest treasure is the dirty piece of parchment 
 picked up at the convent-door, on which he can 
 note down the learning he would keep by him, 
 mistrustful of his memory — whose only true 
 friend is the blithe child he teaches in the 
 chimney-nook, or beneath the elm, in return for 
 the charity bestowed by the parent in the genial 
 warmth of his fire, or the loaf of bread and 
 pot of lard ? But thou heedest me not," he 
 added with a sigh, seeing that Perrinet had 
 again fixed his eyes upon the window with an 
 absorbed air. 
 
 Perrinet, however, w r aved his hand to the
 
 THE LTLY OF PARIS. 69 
 
 poor scholar to intimate to him that he listened, 
 although he turned not away his eves from his 
 continual point of observation. 
 
 " Can I ever forget, Master Perrinet," con- 
 tinued the kloarek, whose heart appeared 
 to be overflowing with many thickly coming feel- 
 ings, " how, when formerly led by a thirst for 
 knowledge, which my poor resources, coming only 
 drop by drop, could not quench, and rendered 
 only more burning within me — when a resistless 
 ambition covered my eyes with a mist, through 
 which I only dimly saw great forms that 
 beckoned to me ever, and would not be dispelled 
 — when a voice cried ' On ! on ! ' and could not 
 be stilled — and in the vista of my dreams rose 
 ever the mighty city of Paris, and its famous 
 university — the true, ever-flowing fountain-head 
 of all science, at which draughts great and deep, 
 and never-failing, may be quaffed by those who 
 thirst for knowledge and faint by the way — and 
 I came alone and barefooted the long weary 
 road, begging for my daily bread, and finding 
 charity more scanty the farther I left my native 
 home, the nearer I approached the city of cities
 
 70 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 — can I ever forget how you, Master Perrinet, 
 when you found me lying at the door of your 
 smithy, exhausted by fatigue, half dead from 
 hunger and want, did raise me in your arms, 
 and warm me by your armourer's forge, and pour 
 reviving cordials into my mouth, and set before me 
 food — how you gave me wherewithal for my first 
 needs — how you found me shelter for my aching 
 head, and poured the balm of comfort on my 
 aching heart — how }^ou pointed out to me the 
 fields whence the learning might be gleaned in 
 plenteous harvest by those whose hands are 
 ready to catch the ears as they fall — how you 
 defended me, at the hazard of your own life, 
 with bold heart and strong arm, when other 
 scholars mocked me for my poor misshapen 
 form and uncouth accent, and would have wo- 
 fully mishandled me, mayhap — how, that never- 
 forgotten day of the blessed Christmas gone by, 
 when the sky was dark and dreary above, but 
 the gleam of sunlight came suddenly upon my 
 heart, you bestowed on me the name of friend? 
 — Can such things be forgotten ? Does the flower 
 forget, think'st thou, the dew of heaven that
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 71 
 
 revives it? does the poor dog forget the hand 
 that has caressed it?" And the large light eyes 
 of the poor kloarek filled with tears. 
 
 " Xo more of this, I pray thee, Yvon," said 
 Perrinet, who had at last turned to him, as if 
 attracted, in spite of himself, by the kloarek's 
 emotion ; " Have I not forbidden thee to speak 
 thus? Thy poetical fancies lead thee astray, poor 
 fellow, into strange exaggerations often." 
 
 " Maybe, maybe, alas!" replied Yvon, again 
 hanging his head with a piteous look ; but 
 then he raised it again with a sudden jerk, as if 
 dispelling, violently, some sad thought, and 
 added, " Yes, I would but have told thee in 
 plain language, Perrinet, that I love thee too 
 well to disturb thee wilfully in thy doings, 
 although thou didst rebuke me for my inoppor- 
 tuneness just now — too well, to seek to penetrate 
 a secret thou dost seem to hide from me." But 
 in spite of these words, and although he with- 
 drew some steps as he spoke, as if about to 
 retire, the kloarek looked inquiringly into his 
 friend's face. 
 
 u Why shouldst thou think I have a secret to 
 conceal from thee ? " inquired Perrinet, harshly.
 
 72 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Yvon shook his head, gave one glance at the 
 oft-mentioned oriel window, and sighed deeply. 
 
 " Or, rather, why should I conceal it from 
 thee ? " continued the young armourer, in an- 
 other tone, recalling him to his side with a 
 gesture, immediately obeyed, and taking his 
 hand. " Spite of thy foolish fancies, which lead 
 thee ever to the clouds, thou hast a kind and 
 sympathizing heart for more terrestrial thoughts, 
 I know." 
 
 The hand, which Perrinet took, trembled in 
 his, as though the kloarek feared to hear the 
 revelation which, but the moment before, he had 
 evidently desired: but the lover heeded not the 
 emotion of his friend. 
 
 " Look me in the face, Yvon," said Perrinet. 
 
 Yvon obeyed, although evidently with em- 
 barrassment and unwillingness. 
 
 "I have a tale to tell thee," continued 
 Perrinet, "which thou wilt little comprehend, 
 perhaps; for what shouldst thou know of love ? — 
 thou, who livest in the arms of knowledge — 
 that, by my truth, must be but a cold mistress." 
 
 The kloarek blushed more deeply than ever, 
 and turned away his eyes, as though, by that
 
 THE LILY OF PAULS. 73 
 
 movement, he could have concealed his height- 
 ened colour from his friend : but Perrinet, like 
 a true lover, was too absorbed in his own feelings 
 to heed any emotion in another — in one, more 
 especially, of whom his proud consciousness of 
 superior strength and comeliness never could 
 admit a thought of jealousy — and he pursued — 
 " And it is of love that I would speak. Call all 
 thy fancy of poetry to thy aid, poor boy, to 
 imagine that ardent passion thou canst not feel " 
 — another spasm from Yoon's hand — " that 
 absorbing thought, that devotion, soul and body, 
 to another, which leave no rest, which chain thee 
 to the place where thou mayest see her, which 
 render her presence paradise, her absence a hell 
 on earth in utter darkness. But see ! I speak 
 but of love, and I fall into thy rhapsodies. Look 
 what it is to love. And I love, Yvon ; I love, 
 ardently, passionately, devotedly." 
 
 "And she thou lovest ?" stammered 
 
 Yvon. 
 
 " Look at yon window," continued Perrinet, 
 " where those flowers seem to bud the brighter 
 and to smell the sweeter, from the touch of the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 beauteous hand that tends them. Soon shall 
 that window open — soon shall that hand appear 
 — and then, then, Yvon, comes my bliss on 
 earth." 
 
 The kloarek now grew very pale, and trembled 
 more than ever. 
 
 " Thou shalt stay and see that hand, Yvon," 
 pursued the lover ; " but little wilt thou be 
 able to judge thereby of the wondrous propor- 
 tions of her lovely form — of the exquisite fashion 
 of her face, beautiful as — " Perrinet hesitated 
 for an expression to convey his sense of the 
 beauty he would vaunt. 
 
 " As the fairest face of saint that limner ever 
 painted," broke in Yvon, " or of a Madonna in 
 her robes of gold-fringed purple and crown of 
 heavenly stars. Yes ! oh, yes ! She is the 
 fairest lily God ever fashioned to bloom as 
 woman upon earth." 
 
 " Thou knowest her, then ? " inquired Per- 
 rinet, with some surprise. 
 
 The kloarek hesitated, coloured again, again 
 grew pale, 
 
 " Thou speakest, methinks, of that beauteous
 
 THE LILY OL PARIS. 75 
 
 maiden who dwells at the house of Master 
 Bourdon the mercer," he answered, trying to 
 command the tremor of his voice, " The Lily of 
 Paris — Lys d'Ange, as the people call her — the 
 angel lily — that symbol of purity which the 
 heavenly messenger bears aloft in the good pic- 
 tures of the Blessed Annunciation. I have seen 
 her, by chance, as she has visited yon church of 
 St. Leu-St.-Gilles. Speakest thou not of her ?" 
 
 " Thou hast seen her, then, Yvon," said Per- 
 rinet, without further remark ; " and had thy 
 scholarship a heart to feel, it might have beat, too, 
 at beholding her. But thou hast none, my poor 
 sickly boy : and how, and why, indeed, shouldst 
 thou love ? Nay, do not flinch," he continued, 
 unable any longer to be ignorant of the evident 
 emotion of the kloarek, but totally unaware of the 
 bitter pain he was inflicting. " Thou knovvest 
 I am not one of those who mock thy strange 
 ungainly form. 1 spoke but of thy soul, ab- 
 sorbed in learning. But thou hast a poet's eye, 
 it seems ; and thou canst judge her beauty. Is 
 she not lovely, Yvon ? " 
 
 " And does she love you in return ? " inquired 
 E 2
 
 76 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 Yvon, anxiously, without trusting himself to 
 answer Perrinet's question. 
 
 *' She loves me ! yes, she loves me ! " replied 
 Perrinet, " although with all too cold a love. 
 Her soul, like thine, is ever far too much lifted 
 above the earth to feed on earthly passion. And 
 yet, she loves me — oh ! she loves me, I am well 
 assured. Has she not known me from our 
 childhood ? were we not playmates together, 
 until our childish fancy grew up into affection ? 
 and how should she not love me ? The abbess 
 of St. Magloire, who was a sort of guardian to 
 me in my childhood, and frequently sent to fetch 
 me from my father's house, and caress me in the 
 convent, and give me sugar-plums and dainties, 
 (she was my godmother, I believe, but, sooth to 
 say, I know not well,) was her near relation ; 
 and, when her father died, it was the abbess who 
 received her beneath the convent's roof, although 
 she left her free of will to become the bride of 
 heaven or not. And, trust me, she shall have 
 another spouse : she shall be the bride of one 
 who will make her happy upon earth. There we 
 met, thus and often, in our childish davs ; and
 
 THE LILY OF PAPJS. 77 
 
 now, although the foolish old abbess will not that 
 we see each other more — now that we are girl 
 and boy no longer — I can come to speech of her 
 at the house of Dame Pernelle, the mercer's 
 wife, ber aunt, whom she visits sometimes for 
 many days together, with the permission of 
 the abbess. But lately, seest thou, Dame 
 Pernelle, who thought, mayhap, that I might 
 have paid a closer court to the buxom aunt in 
 place of the beauteous niece, has laid all kind of 
 slight upon me, and told her I am a good-for- 
 nouglit and a wantoner, unworthy of her-glance, 
 and that I am no fitting husband — well to do in 
 the world though 1 be now — for so fair a maid, 
 and forbids me the house ; God's malediction 
 lisrht on her ! " 
 
 " And she — ?" stammered Yvon, apparently 
 deeply interested in the simple love-story of the 
 young armourer. 
 
 " She loves me still, I tell thee, unbelieving 
 Thomas," exclaimed Perrinet. " When the 
 jolly mercer and his wife are well employed 
 below, she gives me a sign that I may come ; 
 and then — ah ! trust me, lad — a lover bold has
 
 78 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 always means of entrance. And now it is near 
 the hour of noon. Their midday meal must 
 soon be ended ; and may it stick in their throats 
 if they swallow it not quickly ! It is long 
 enough since they retired from their counter 
 there below, after the skirmish in the street. 
 They will soon return. That window opens — 
 her pretty hand appears. Yvon, Yvon, thou 
 canst not know the tumultuous beatings of a 
 lover's heart, its foolish fancies. The time is 
 not yet come ; and yet I cannot but stand here, 
 will I or no, and gaze upon that window, whence 
 she will give the sign. I know that it is not 
 come; and yet I have stood thus for hours 
 past." 
 
 The poor kloarek had hung his head more 
 lowly between his shoulders, and dropped at 
 one moment the hand of his friend with the 
 haste of one stung by a serpent; but as Per- 
 rinet ceased to speak, he again looked up ; and, 
 although there was the moisture of swelling 
 tears in his eyes, his face had assumed its usual 
 look of melancholy calm. A flush of colour 
 about the temples alone seemed to indicate that
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 79 
 
 a storm of strong feeling had passed within him, 
 and been subdued by a stronger force of will. 
 
 " All happiness attend thee in thy loves !" he 
 said, slowly and deliberately. 
 
 " Thank thee, good lad ; I know thou art 
 sincere in thy kind prayers," responded Perrinet 
 ingenuously, although with somewhat of that 
 tone of condescension which, unknown to him- 
 self probably, he was wont to use towards his 
 more humble friend. 
 
 The young armourer still continued to utter 
 broken phrases, alluding to his ardent attach- 
 ment, and the charms of his lady love — his eyes 
 again fixed upon the window, with even still more 
 eagerness and impatience than before ; but his sad 
 listener had now shrunk behind him, and clasped 
 his hands before his face, although by the nod- 
 ding of his head in mute assent to some of his 
 companion's observations, he seemed to be feel- 
 ingly alive to every word he uttered. 
 
 The street became comparatively more and 
 more empty as the hour of noon approached, 
 which, at that period, was the hour when most 
 of the good citizens of Paris were engaged in
 
 80 THE LILY OE PARIS. 
 
 their midday meal, or the repose that followed 
 it. But there were still two strollers upon the 
 highway, whose appearance was sufficient to 
 command attention. The one seemed to be a 
 youth of slender and effeminate proportions, as 
 far as could be judged beneath the sort of cloak 
 or robe of dark and thick silken stuff, which 
 hung about his neck with a clasp upon one 
 shoulder, and enveloped his whole person, save 
 where the opening down the whole of the left 
 side showed a more tightly-fitting embroidered 
 robe of finer damask beneath, and where the 
 sleeves of the same under-garment were visible. 
 The scarf of white silk, which hung from the 
 roll of his jewelled head-dress, was so disposed 
 also about his neck as to cover most of the lower 
 part of his features ; but his long, light, care- 
 fully curled hair, and as much of a delicate and 
 handsome face as was visible, betrayed his 
 extreme youth and agreeable appearance. The 
 companion, who followed him rather than walked 
 by his side — at such a distance as an inferior 
 might take so as to show his respect, although 
 without being out of reach of easy conversation —
 
 THE LILY OF PALIS. 81 
 
 was less richly dressed, but with more preten- 
 sion of display ; his outer garment reached, 
 however, only to his knees, displaying his 
 tightly -fitting pantaloons of striped gaudy co- 
 lours, and his pointed shoes : his cap was not 
 adorned by any scarf; and upon his left shoulder 
 hung suspended by a broad band a stringed 
 musical instrument, shaped like a lengthened 
 gourd, with a long crooked beak. This latter 
 personage was evidently several years older than 
 the youth whom he accompanied ; and his dark 
 southern face, adorned with a profusion of black 
 curling hair, and illumined by a pair of dark in- 
 telligent eyes, might have been considered 
 handsome, but for a reckless and worn ex- 
 pression, and a settled flush of colour, pro- 
 ceeding probably from habitual excess, which 
 had replaced the meridional glow in nature's 
 freshness. 
 
 The two personages sauntered up the street, 
 the first one now and then turning his head to 
 speak gaily and laughingly to his follower, who, 
 with a slight inclination, seemed to answer by 
 some ready and amusing jest. As they ap- 
 E 3
 
 82 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 proaclied the mercer's dwelling, however, they 
 appeared to assume a certain degree of caution : 
 after looking about them, and glancing at the 
 open counter of the mercer, where the little 
 apprentice was nodding drowsily over the wares 
 he was set to guard, they stopped beneath the 
 oriel window at the corner of the house. The 
 youth, after looking up at it with a passionate 
 glance, beckoned his companion nearer to his 
 side, and leaning both his arms languidly upon 
 one of his shoulders, whispered in his ear. A 
 command appeared to have been given ; for the 
 elder personage shifted his musical instrument 
 so as to bring it before him, and, after striking 
 a few chords upon it, began to sing, in a voice 
 of much richness, although in a subdued tone, 
 a few words of a glowing love-ditty of the land 
 of Provence. After a moment he paused, and 
 then, upon a word from his companion, again 
 commenced. 
 
 Attracted by the circumstance of these two 
 personages occupying a position beneath the 
 same window which was the object of his whole 
 attention, Perrinet started up from his lounging
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 83 
 
 posture, and in an instant, as if by an instinc- 
 tive and involuntary movement, grasped the hilt 
 of his dagger. 
 
 " Who are these gallants," he exclaimed, 
 " who dare to stay their steps beneath her win- 
 dow, and tune up their lewd lays within hearing 
 of her ears ? " 
 
 The kloarek placed his hand upon Perrinet's 
 arm, with an entreaty to prudence : but the 
 young lover shook him off. 
 
 u I will soon stop their wanton howling," he 
 cried angrily, " and slit their throats if needs 
 must be, to know what songs they will sing 
 then." 
 
 He again pushed the kloarek aside, as if he 
 were about to spring with the bound of a wild 
 beast into the street, when a the same moment 
 the younger personage turned his head at the 
 noise of voices in the lane. His scarf was some- 
 what displaced by the movement; and Perrinet 
 stood aghast at the aspect of that fair and deli- 
 cate face, as though he had seen a spectre. 
 Although his hand still lay upon the hilt of his 
 dagger, it seemed to be without nerve or power.
 
 84 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 " He — he ! " stammered the young armourer, 
 as if speaking to himself. 
 
 The kloarek gazed upon him with surprise. 
 " Oh ! it is he !" muttered Perrinet still, fall- 
 ing back against the wall ; " I know his face 
 well ; I have seen him at the mysteries of the 
 Guild of the Holy Passion. He, beneath the 
 window ! Oh ! I am lost — lost ! " 
 
 "What moves you thus ?" said Yvon, eagerly. 
 " But no ; she cannot love him," continued 
 Perrinet ; " she cannot be so base. Her soul is 
 too pure to be nattered by the court of such a 
 boy, because — oh no ! she cannot know — can- 
 not encourage— and yet — oh, malediction ! " — 
 And the excited lover set his teeth firmly to- 
 gether, while his whole face was convulsed with 
 rage, and his brow was flushed with the dark 
 tints of passion. 
 
 Meanwhile the two other personages had been 
 disturbed in their occupation. Master Bourdon 
 and his wife had made their appearance at the 
 shop counter opening upon the street ; and, 
 seeing two " such swaggering gallants," as he 
 expressed it, close by, the jealous mercer had
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 85 
 
 authoritatively sent the grumbling Dame Per- 
 nelle, who cast many a look behind her, and 
 perchance even a smile or two, into the dark 
 recesses of the magazine behind, and attacked 
 the lingerers before his house with his cry of, 
 
 "What need ye, Seignors ? cloths, stuffs, em- 
 broideries rich and fair to see, silks of damask — " 
 
 But he was not able to conclude his enume- 
 ration of his wares ; for the younger personage 
 turned his back, saying low to his companion, 
 "The cursed citizens — the plague light on their 
 heads — cannot leave us undisturbed in our 
 amusements now-a-da}-s ! Come, Babolin ; we 
 will find a better time for having speech of that 
 bright face ; this much vaunted Lys d'Ange shall 
 not escape me." He then sauntered on with the 
 dissatisfied frown of a spoiled child upon his fair 
 brow ; and the other, after making a face of 
 comic stolidity at the mercer, as if unable to 
 restrain his humour, followed at a little distance, 
 laughing heartily. 
 
 The tumult of Perrinet's mind, however, was 
 not soothed down by this departure of the two 
 men : he continued to mutter angrily to himself: —
 
 86 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Not satisfied with their delights in gilded 
 halls," he said, " their music, and dancing, and 
 chambering, must they come now to cast longing 
 lustful eyes upon the love of the poor citizen ? 
 And their glitter and their soft words are as sun- 
 shine and music to a woman's eyes and ears. And 
 are not all women so ? and do not they all cast 
 away the loving heart bestowed within their 
 keeping, as the coarse offal of the earth, to 
 clutch at gaudier, more alluring toys ? All — 
 all ! And shall she — she too ? " 
 
 "Perrinet, beware, beware!'' said Yvon, taking 
 his hand affectionately. 
 
 " Ay ! trust me, I will be on the watch, my 
 lad," he answered. 
 
 " Not so," pursued the kloarek. " Beware 
 of jealousy; beware of the serpent that steals 
 around the heart before we see its deadly coils, 
 and gnaws — there — there" — he pressed his other 
 hand tightly on his own heart — " with deadly 
 and venomous bite ! Beware of the poison of 
 its fangs, which creeps into the blood, and turns 
 it into boiling venom. Better death than such a 
 torture !" Yvon spoke with bitter earnestness.
 
 THE LILY OF PAHIS. 87 
 
 " What chatterest thou of jealousy, foolish 
 boy ? 1 am not jealous — no !" cried Perrinet, 
 scornfully ; but he bit his lip, and bent his dark 
 brow, and stamped with his foot. 
 
 On a sudden, however, the expression of the 
 young armourer's face changed entirely. The 
 faint click of a lattice latch struck on his ear, 
 even at the distance of the intervening street : 
 a casement of the oriel window opened : a small 
 white hand appeared above the flowers : a little 
 branch was plucked, and fell, as if by accident, 
 into the street; and then the hand was with- 
 drawn from the casement opening. A look of 
 joy irradiated the young armourer's face, and 
 called a quickly evanescent cloud upon that 
 of the poor kloarek. 
 
 "Yvon, farewell; she calls me," exclaimed 
 Perrinet. 
 
 With these words he darted into the street, 
 and takinsr a circuit to avoid Master Bourdon's 
 
 D 
 
 eye, approached a small alley, which separated 
 the mercer's dwelling from the neighbouring 
 house. Before entering it, however, he paused, 
 crept cautiously beneath the oriel window,
 
 88 THE LTLT OF PARTS. 
 
 seized on the fallen leaves, pressed them to his 
 lips and his heart, concealed them about his 
 person, and sprang into the alley. After pro- 
 ceeding down it a few paces, he stopped beneath 
 a wall — the trees sweeping over which, seemed to 
 indicate the existence of a court or garden be- 
 hind the mercer's house — sprang with a bound to 
 seize the top of the wall with his hands, swung 
 himself up with force, threw his person over, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Yvon stood gazing upon his friend ; and a 
 » 
 sigh, deep as a groan, burst from his bosom, 
 
 with an involuntary feeling of envy, perhaps, on 
 
 witnessing this display of force and agility in 
 
 the athletic young man. 
 
 When Perrinet had disappeared, he seated 
 himself languidly on the step of the barber's 
 side-door, and covered his face with his hands, 
 uttering aloud the words, " What, indeed, should 
 the poor, miserable, deformed kloarek know of 
 love ? for who should love him ? " 
 
 After a moment, the tears trickled sadly 
 through his thin fingers, and down the backs of 
 his hands.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE LILY. 
 
 She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, 
 Save wings, for heaven. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 Give me more love, or more disdain, — 
 
 The torrid, or the frigid zone : 
 Either extreme of love or hate 
 
 Is sweeter than a calm estate. 
 
 Carew. 
 
 In the upper chamber in the mercer's dwell- 
 ing to which belonged the oriel window that 
 seemed to be so alluring a point of attraction to 
 the three young men, who, each in his turn, had 
 fixed his eager attention upon it, sat the person 
 who was, apparently, the loadstone of their 
 hearts. She was indeed, as Yvon had described 
 her, a beauteous maiden, who seemed to have 
 but lately budded from girlhood into woman- 
 hood, so fresh, so bright, so pare, was her 
 whole aspect. Her fair hair, parted so as to 
 display a high, white, thoughtful-looking fore- 
 head, fell in such a rich proportion of abundant 
 curl, that, after forming a frame to a soft, oval
 
 90 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 face — to which her violet-blue, tender eyes, her 
 calm, finely-chiselled features, and the serious 
 repose of her imaginative mouth, imparted an 
 air of gentleness and thoughtfulness combined — 
 and curving slightly over her sloping shoulders, 
 it followed the undulations of her lovely figure 
 until it nearly reached the ground, and covered 
 her like a thick network of golden threads. A 
 long white dress, fitting tightly about her young 
 bosom and her slim waist, swept down below 
 and about her feet in ample folds ; and its 
 hanging sleeves, tight to the elbow, but opening 
 at that point with a profusion of material which 
 also nearly reached the floor, displayed her 
 white, gracefully rounded arms, and her small, 
 fair, tapering hands, that were now quietly 
 clasped together upon her lap. She was seated 
 upon the step of the small recess, formed by the 
 projecting oriel window in an angle of the room; 
 and the rays of sunlight that found their way 
 through the narrow panes, fell upon her bright 
 hair, and illumined its golden threads as if with 
 a saintly glory. It scarcely needed, however, 
 to complete the illusion, the halo that, thus acci-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 91 
 
 dentally flittering around her head, contributed 
 with her white dress to give her the celestial 
 and airy appearance of a creature of another 
 world ; for there was the gleam of such a sweet 
 angelic smile about her mouth, even when in 
 repose, — such a bright beam of innocence that 
 rested on her pure brow — and a ray of such 
 calm, contemplative glory in her eye, that the 
 picture she formed as she thus sat in the full 
 force of the only light that illumined the cham- 
 ber, was that of a reposing angel. 
 
 The rest of the picture formed by the small 
 chamber was feebly lighted, and sombre in all 
 its tones. The room was surrounded on all 
 sides, save at the stone recess of the narrow 
 window, by rudely sculptured dark panelling. 
 The oaken bed, which with its twisted columns 
 and its heavy canopy occupied an undue pro- 
 portion of the space of the room, scarcely re- 
 lieved the general sombre tints of the wood work 
 by its heavy dark green curtains of maroon : a 
 couple of rudely painted chests, which served 
 the double purpose of depositories of clothes, 
 and seats, barely stood out from the background,
 
 92 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 in spite of the gaudiness of their colouring. An 
 ivory crucifix, suspended above a sculptured 
 kneeling-cbair, opposite to the foot of the bed, 
 the book of prayer open upon the back of the 
 chair, a round metal shell-shaped basin, fixed 
 into the wall for the purposes of ablution, and a 
 linen cloth hanging by its side, together with a 
 white lily placed in a small vase on the ledge 
 of the chair beside the book — an emblem, it 
 would almost seem, of the pure and fair maiden 
 herself, such as the kloarek had described her — 
 alone caught up some of those rays of light 
 absorbed in the general gloom, and gleamed 
 forth from the darkness. The scene was such 
 as to permit the fair apparition to remain in the 
 full force of its lustrous brightness. 
 
 The maiden sat thus calmly with her listless 
 air, her head hung gently on one side ; although 
 the fixed earnestness of her blue eye seemed 
 to tell that she listened and waited. Presently 
 she raised her head, and looked more earnestly, 
 as an approaching stealthy but hurried step 
 was heard behind the wainscoting ; she rose 
 quietly, and without any heightened flush of
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. 93 
 
 colour upon her face, without the least trace of 
 stronger emotion being apparent in the heaving 
 of her bosom. A side aperture in an angle of 
 her room opened : a young man entered, and 
 closed it hastily behind him. It was Perrinet. 
 
 " Odette!" he exclaimed, hurrying to the 
 maiden's side and taking one of her fair hands 
 in both of his ; " do I see thee again at last ? 
 How long has my heart yearned for this moment! 
 What nights of sleepless impatience — what days 
 of wearying restlessness, have I lived through in 
 alternate fever-fits of despair and hope — hope of 
 such a blissful moment as the present— despair 
 of seeing thy beauteous face again. Ah ! how 
 
 beautiful thou art, Odette ! how lovely thus 
 
 Nay ! shake not thy pretty head thus coldly and 
 reproachfully. Yes, Odette ; there have been 
 moments when I have despaired. When Dame 
 Pernelle — a plague and malediction light on her ! 
 well, well ! look not thus sadly at me again ; 
 I will not swear, I do protest to thee — when 
 Dame Pernelle, good Dame Pernelle, sweet Dame 
 Pernelle, if thou will'st, forbade me to visit her 
 dwelling — Nay, nay, not that look, once more ;
 
 94 THE LILY OE PARIS. 
 
 surely thou may'st permit me a gesture of im- 
 patience, if not a word : it were too hard to 
 control the very movement of a finger, or the 
 twitch of an eyebrow, — when I could not see thee 
 more, and followed thee to thy matin orisons 
 and vesper prayers in the Church of St. Leu- 
 St. Gilles, my heart was like to break my bosom 
 with joy and grief, and happiness and spite : but 
 when, in answer to my mute distant supplica- 
 tion, thou didst make a stealthy sign, to let me 
 know I might once more see thee as before : 
 oh ! then, my happiness was nigh too much for 
 me. I staggered from the church drunk with 
 
 Do 
 
 joy, as one drunken with strong drink. Dost 
 thou love me then, my heavenly Odette — dost 
 really love me? Well ! do not speak. I would 
 not have thee speak and say i Nay.' I do believe 
 — I will believe that thou dost love me. And 
 so the whole live-long blessed morning have I 
 stood before that window to wait for that sweet 
 sign which once before thou gavest me. I waited 
 with patience, I do protest to thee, Odette. Thou 
 hadst not again upbraided me for my violence 
 and ardent eagerness, hadst thou deigned to look
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 95 
 
 forth and see me. Oh ! I was most patient, 
 although my heart did beat, perchance, in fevered 
 measure, *as it beats still, still. Feel how it yet 
 beats, Odette !" and he pressed the hand he 
 held, firmly to his bosom. " Does it not ? Tell 
 me now, } r et do tell me — dost thou love me? 
 Not as I love thee — that were impossible. Still 
 thou lovest me, after thine own fashion. Thou 
 lovest me, dost thou not, Odette V\ 
 
 The fair being gently disengaged her hand 
 from the young man's bosom, and smiled kindly, 
 but thoughtfully, upon him. 
 
 " Come — sit down with me, Perrinet," she 
 said softly ; " I would speak with thee as a 
 friend." 
 
 " A friend!" echoed Perrinet, in a tone of 
 vexation. 
 
 " Come !" she said again: and, leading him 
 by the hand to a chest near the window, she 
 made him sit down upon it by her side. 
 
 She paused for a time, as if embarrassed how 
 to address the young man, while he gazed fondly 
 on her. 
 
 " Perrinet," she said at last, " if I pause be- 
 fore I speak, it is because I fear thy violence — "
 
 96 THE LILY OL PARIS. 
 
 " My violence I" broke in Perrinet abruptly, 
 and with an impatient movement. " Am I not 
 calm — calm as thou couldst wish me, and as 
 thou hast ever preached to me to be ? And yet 
 thou speakest now of violence ! " 
 
 " Forbear with me for a moment," said Odette. 
 " I know that thou art fondly attached to me, 
 even since our days of childhood, as I am to thee. 
 Have we not ever been as brother and sister to 
 each other?" 
 
 " Brother ! sister ! " exclaimed Perrinet again, 
 impatiently ; but Odette went on, unheeding his 
 nervous movement. 
 
 " As a sister I have loved thee — as a sister I 
 hope to love thee ever — " 
 
 " Ah ! thou lovest me not at all, if thou canst 
 speak thus coldly," broke in the young armourer 
 again. " Thou triflest with me, Odette. Thou 
 knowest that I speak not of such love. Brother 
 and sister ! Cold attachment ! Thou knowest 
 that I speak to thee of that burning passion 
 which absorbs my whole soul, and leaves it but 
 one thought, one hope, one future. I do not bid 
 thee love me thus ; but tell me not thou lovest 
 me as a sister only. Thou lovest me not at all,
 
 THE LILT OF PARIS. 97 
 
 if thou canst speak thus of love. Thou knowest 
 not what it is to love — thou dost not understand 
 the very word ;" and he turned away his head 
 with bitterness. 
 
 " Not understand — not feel !" replied Odette, 
 still holding his hand affectionately. " Thou 
 dost me wrong, Perrinet. Do I not love the 
 godly Saviour of the world, who stretches forth 
 his hand to bless us suffering mortals in the 
 wondrous statue of yon church ? do I not love 
 our blessed Lady, who beams down upon us with 
 such beneficent looks from the shrine ? and, 
 heaven pardon me if I err in mixing mortal beings 
 with the immortal, — do I not love our good old 
 abbess ? do I not — ay ! do I not love thee, Per- 
 rinet ? Not feel — not understand ! It seems 
 to me that such, who, as Dame Pernelle, have 
 the word ever in their mouths, and chatter strange 
 things, incomprehensible to my ears, and liso 
 and rave of love, and then forget what they have 
 said, or afterwards deride it, feel and understand 
 it less. When the poor beggar, who receives 
 an unexpected alms, looks with joy into your 
 face, is not that love ? when the sufferer, nursed 
 
 VOL. I. f
 
 98 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 in sickness — the starving mother, whose children 
 are fed by the hand of charity — the sorrower 
 who receives the words of comfort, stammer their 
 words of heartfelt thanks, is not that love ? 
 When the child gambols at your feet, or sleeps 
 upon your knees — when the poor dumb beastfixes 
 its meaning eyes upon you, to express its grati- 
 tude for food bestowed — when the flower turns 
 fondly to the sun — is not that love ? Seest thou 
 not, Perrinet, that I can feel and understand ?" 
 
 " Thou art an angel, sweet Odette," replied 
 Perrinet tenderly; although he slightly shrugged 
 his shoulders, and allowed a sigh of vexation to 
 escape him ; " thy pure words are as the dew 
 from heaven. But no — thou dost not under- 
 stand. I fear thou dost not feel. And yet thou 
 sayest thou lovest me. That one word I heard; 
 and I will cling to it." 
 
 61 Then, now listen to me, Perrinet," continued 
 Odette, taking both his hands in hers as if 
 to make him prisoner. " Thou wilt not doubt 
 that I do love thee, any longer. Believe then 
 that my words are words of love for thee. In 
 pity for my maidenly shame, I must entreat
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 99 
 
 thee no longer to follow me thus, and, by thy 
 presence, force upon me, will I or no, worldly 
 visions and worldly thoughts, in the midst of my 
 devotions. It was to entreat thee this and 
 earnestly, that I again made sign to thee, that I 
 would see thee." 
 
 " But if I yield to this most strange request," 
 replied Perrinet, " thou wilt promise to see me 
 oftener, in secret here?" 
 
 " No," said the maiden, gently and sorrow- 
 fully shaking her head; " it cannot be. I have 
 yielded to thy impetuosity in granting thee these 
 clandestine meetings : and I have done wrong ; 
 for I have felt that even with thee, Perrinet, 
 my brother, such a deed of concealment was a 
 sin ; and yet have I yielded." 
 
 " What dost thou mean, Odette?" burst out 
 the lover, struggling with her hands. " Thou 
 wilt not see me more ? Thou listenest to the 
 deceiving counsels of thy foolish aunt !" 
 
 " What I do is of my own inward feeling, 
 that, foolish if it be, yet deceives me not," re- 
 plied Odette. 
 
 M Thou canst not mean it," cried Perrinet im- 
 f 2
 
 100 THE LILY OP P4PJS. 
 
 petuously. " Within the convent's walls thy 
 presence is now forbidden to me : thy visits here 
 were my last hope of gazing on thy beloved face, 
 of listening to thy sweet voice : and of this last 
 lingering charm of life thou wouldst deprive me. 
 Oh ! drive me not to madness." 
 
 " Thy passion alarms me and convinces not," 
 said Odette, sadly. "My duty it was to say what 
 I have said, — to do what I must do. We shall 
 meet again ; and thou wilt love me still : and 
 I will love thee ever. But, when relations frown, 
 and kind guardians forbid, I cannot — dare not 
 see thee. Secrecy is sin." - 
 
 " But art thou not my bride ?" continued the 
 young man with increasing passion. " Hast thou 
 not sworn — or said — no matter now the words — 
 that thou wouldst be my wedded wife ? And 
 wilt thou thus forswear thyself? I tell thee 
 also, maiden, /, that perjury is sin." 
 
 " What I have said is binding as had I sworn, 
 which I have not," replied Odette. " When the 
 time shall come that, with consent of all, we can 
 be man and wife, I will be thine, Perrinet, my 
 earliest friend, my brother — so be it that thou
 
 THE LILY OF PAKIS. 101 
 
 lovest me still — so be it that thou remainest 
 true to thy honour and thyself, as true to me. 
 If God wills it otherwise, I will be the bride of 
 heaven." And she cast up her eyes with a glance 
 of celestial inspiration, and let fall his hands. 
 
 " Odette! Odette! "cried the lover, springing 
 up impetuously ; " thou shalt be mine — in 
 spite of friends, of guardians, all — in spite of 
 heaven and earth and hell." 
 
 " Blaspheme not," interrupted Odette, raising 
 her hands to him imploringly. w Be calm, Perri- 
 net, be patient. Our good abbess loves thee 
 well, although she thinks it not becoming that 
 we should meet until I am of age to know and 
 exercise my duties as a wife ; my aunt, in spite 
 of her black looks to thee, bears thee affection, I 
 am sure. The time will come — " 
 
 " Patience ! calm !" broke in Perrinet. " Can 
 I be patient, when delays are ever opposed to 
 the time which is to give thee to my arms? 
 The abbess, foolish woman, knows nought of the 
 passion, that devours the lover's breast, and will 
 not brook such obstacles. Thy aunt, capricious, 
 envious — but no matter now what I may think
 
 102 THE LILY OF PAKIS. 
 
 — will but heap obstacle on obstacle in our path. 
 There is no hope in them : and I cannot, will 
 not, bide their bidding. Thou must and shalt 
 be mine. Calm should I be, too! — calm!" he 
 continued with much bitterness, while Odette, 
 unable to restrain him, gazed on his agitated 
 face, reproachfully and sorrowfully, as he paced 
 up and down. " Can I be calm when lewd 
 gallants are tinkling their filthy music beneath 
 thy very window, and would seduce thee with 
 their pretty looks, and honied words, and minc- 
 ing airs of courtly presence-chamber? Calm ! 
 when jealousy; yes jealousy, Odette! — for I de- 
 nied it but just now, — but so it is — gnaws at 
 my very heart-strings. Thy ears are too chaste, 
 Odette, to be defiled by their accursed lays of love 
 — thy eyes too pure to look upon their effemi- 
 nacies. But women's ears are tickled easily ; 
 and women's eyes are quickly dazzled : and 
 then they fling their hearts after their eyes and 
 ears." 
 
 "Perrinet!" cried Odette, reproachfully, rising 
 from her seat with an air of calm dignity. 
 
 " Nay ! pardon me. I was hurried on, I
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 103 
 
 knew not how. I spoke not of thee, thou 
 knowest — no, not of thee. How, how could I 
 speak thus of thee ? " stammered Perrinet in 
 some confusion. 
 
 "Perrinet," continued the maiden, "thy 
 passion and impatience go nigh, sometimes, to 
 kill the love I bear thee. I have already told 
 thee this." 
 
 " But seek I not thy pardon for my words ? 
 Why, then, reproach me more?" continued the 
 young man. 
 
 Odette shook her head. 
 
 u Is the fault mine, if that young, — those young 
 nobles, I would say," pursued Perrinet, hastily, 
 " stir the bile within me, when they would rob us 
 poor citizens of our hearts' treasures ? I am a 
 loyal man and a true : but there are moments, like 
 the present, when I would almost call down the 
 curse of heaven upon court and king." 
 
 " Alas ! the hand of heaven lies heavily 
 enough, already, upon our poor deluded king," 
 said Odette, fervently. " Speak not of the 
 poor sufferer thus." 
 
 " Well ! I was wrong again," said Perrinet.
 
 104 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " But yet, he — he — I feel that I could hate him 
 bitterly." 
 
 " Of whom speakest thou thus rashly ?" in- 
 quired Odette. 
 
 " Of him who would bring his debauched 
 friends and troubadours to play the gallant be- 
 neath thy window." 
 
 " He thought not of such follies, trust me," 
 said the innocent girl. " He was a youth of 
 goodly presence, and his face beamed with 
 purity and candour." 
 
 " Thou sawest him, then ? " asked Perrinet, 
 angrily. " Thou lookedst forth on him ? " 
 
 " I saw him as I came to the casement to 
 give thee thy desired signal," replied Odette, 
 simply. 
 
 Perrinet paced the room again ; his face was 
 violently contracted. 
 
 " Avoid him — avoid the young serpent, I bid 
 thee, Odette," he said, at last. " He is but just 
 hatched of his egg 9 and, already, he must have 
 his light-o'-loves. Look not on him more; look 
 not on him, I command thee — I entreat thee." 
 
 " But, who is he, then, that thou thus warnest
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 105 
 
 me of him ? " inquired the simple-minded girl, 
 with a slight shudder. 
 
 " No matter," continued Perrinet, angrily. 
 * I warn thee, maiden : and that should be 
 sufficient for thee. Thou talkest of duty — hast 
 thou not, then, duty also to thy lover, which 
 thou shouldst follow and observe ? " 
 
 " Perrinet, we must part," resumed Odette, 
 after a short pause ; " let us not part with 
 harsh looks and angry words." 
 
 " Part ! already ! " exclaimed Perrinet ; " when 
 thou hast given me no time to speak to thee of 
 my love — my ardent devotion?" 
 
 " We must part," repeated Odette ; " we 
 have lingered, already, far too long alone to- 
 gether." 
 
 "But yet, to meet again ? " said the lover, 
 eagerly. " Thou canst not be so cruel as to 
 banish me from thy presence, as thou hast said. 
 Thou wilt not drive me to distraction ? " 
 
 " Thou wilt take the assurance of my affec- 
 tion — the hope that we may meet again, when it 
 is permitted us ; and thou wilt bide thy time, 
 
 F 3
 
 106 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Thou ! thou lovest not as I ! " exclaimed 
 her lover, again. " Thou feelest not as I ; and 
 thou canst speak thus coldly. Alas ! that it 
 should be so. But, oh ! I entreat thee, my life's 
 joy, let not these poor leaves wither on my 
 heart before they be renewed ; " and he pulled 
 forth the leaves he had picked up in the street, 
 from his bosom ; " or, with them, I shall 
 wither too." 
 
 Odette looked on him sorrowfully, at this 
 passionate address, and was, perhaps, about to 
 answer him, when suddenly she started. 
 
 " I hear voices below," she said. " Surely, 
 more persons than one are mounting the stairs. 
 Go, I entreat thee, Perrinet." 
 
 " Not until I have the assurance that we shall 
 meet again, and soon," exclaimed Perrinet, 
 violently. 
 
 " Must I repeat what I have said before ? " 
 answered Odette. " Ah ! they come to be the 
 witnesses of my folly and my shame. Thou, 
 then, will'st it so." 
 
 " But part not thus," cried the lover. " Give 
 me some hope — some promise."
 
 THE LILY OF PAHIS. 107 
 
 " I do repeat I love thee as of old," was the 
 answer. 
 
 Although dissatisfied, Perrinet clasped her to 
 his bosom, and raised her hand to his lips. He 
 looked around, espied the white lily in the vase, 
 and seizing it, as if still unconsciously mindful of 
 Yvon's comparison, with the words, " Be this thy 
 portrait to my heart, until my eyes rest on thee 
 again," hastily snatched it from its receptacle* 
 Then he tore himself away with a last glance ; 
 but, as he departed through the entrance by 
 which he came, there was a look of dogged 
 resolution on his brow. 
 
 Odette looked after him with a heavy sigh. 
 She clasped her arms tightly across her bosom ; 
 but her face was calm and thoughtful, as was its 
 usual aspect, when the principal door of the 
 small chamber opened. 
 
 It was the buxom wife of the mercer who 
 entered. 
 
 Although Dame Pernelle did not think it 
 expedient, perhaps, to give herself the airs of 
 adopting the more aristocratic and fashionable 
 head-dress of the great ladies of the time, and
 
 108 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " raise her horn aloft ;" yet, she had permitted 
 herself to wear upon her head another of the 
 fashions of the period, which, if less exalted, 
 was still no less preposterous, unwieldy, and 
 full of pretension. Two great pads, or rather 
 bolsters, of velvet, covered with a tarnished 
 gold network, stood out from either side of her 
 head to so enterprising an extent, that she was 
 forced to bend, and turn, and wriggle, and per- 
 form sundry other manoeuvres, which gave her 
 gaudily attired person the appearance of a great 
 boa-constrictor, before she could edge her way 
 into the room, without entirely disturbing the 
 equilibrium of the huge superstructure. Her 
 full bosom still heaved in its tight vest, after 
 her exertions, as she advanced into the room, 
 and chucking Odette under the chin, with a 
 familiar gesture, held up a letter above her 
 head. 
 
 " Well, lady pale-face, my lily," she said, 
 laughing, " we must part, it seems. Her rever- 
 ence, the Lady Abbess, who is thy guardian, 
 since thy father chose to appoint her so, in lieu 
 of thine own natural blood relations, sends thee
 
 THE LILY OF PAULS. 109 
 
 this missive, with her blessing, and a monk, and 
 a couple of old hags, to fetch thee back. Sorry 
 shall I be to see thee go from me, Odette : but 
 needs must, when the devil drives. St. Gilles 
 pardon me. that I should speak of her rever- 
 ence and the prince of darkness in the same 
 breath." 
 
 But although Dame Pernelle expressed her 
 regret at losing her charge, there was no sorrow 
 in her eye, but rather an expression of joy, that 
 she should be thus rid of a visitor, whose bud- 
 ding charms already bid fair, even in her own 
 eyes, to outrival her ample, but somewhat 
 mature attractions, and allure away that homage 
 to which she had been so lon£, — alas ! too long 
 — accustomed. 
 
 Odette smiled, and put her head on one side, 
 with a gentle look of regret; but she received 
 the letter with that air of calm dignity, which 
 was her characteristic. 
 
 " What writes the Lady Abbess, fair one ?" 
 said Dame Pernelle, carelessly, when, after 
 aiding Odette with bustling officiousness, to cut 
 the band of white silk that bound the letter 
 crossways, by means of the scissors that hung,
 
 110 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 together with her keys and a variety of multi- 
 farious articles, by a long chain from her waist, 
 she saw the passive girl slowly perusing the 
 contents of the letter. le What news ? why 
 sends she for thee, in this unwonted way?" 
 
 " I may not tell you, since she forbids me 
 to divulge the contents of her missive ;" said 
 Odette, smiling, and placing the paper in the 
 bosom of her dress. 
 
 " But to me, thy aunt — thy nearest blood 
 relation — thou needest to make no mysteries; 
 — the Lady Abbess could never refer to me ; 
 so tell me ;" cried Dame Pernelle, boiling with 
 curiosity, to know what before was to her a 
 matter of indifference — now that a secret seemed 
 connected with it. 
 
 " Sooth to say, dear aunt, I could not tell 
 you, if I would ;" replied Odette. " The Lady 
 Abbess writes to me in terms so ambiguous, — so 
 little comprehensible, even to myself, of some 
 mission, — some high destiny that awaits me, — 
 I know not what, — that were I inclined to break 
 her trust, which our Lady forbid, I should be 
 little able." 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed the offended mercer's
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. Ill 
 
 lady, bridling up with an air of clumsy dignity, 
 and shaking the big bolsters of her head-dress, in 
 order to show her perfect indifference. " Well, 
 our Lady knows, and all the saints to boot, that 
 no one is less curious than I. "What matters it 
 to me ? I can be as indifferent to your doings, 
 if I list, and to those of the Lady Abbess too 
 — high as she holds herself — although people do 
 say — no matter what — but flesh is flesh. I never 
 meddle and make, particularly if it be a matter 
 of State politics, which, mayhap, it may be ; 
 for the Lady Abbess is very thick with his 
 Countship, the Constable — wonderfully thick to 
 be sure — and if it be a matter of State politics" 
 — Dame Pernelle looked at Odette sharply ; 
 but she had calmly fixed her eyes upon the 
 ground, as if submissively waiting the conclu- 
 sion of Dame Pernelle's discourse ; so Dame 
 Pernelle ran on : — " if so it be — why the less 
 1 know about it the better. I want not to burn 
 my fingers by playing with the flame, be it 
 Armagnac or Burgundy who holds the torch ; 
 be the cry for king or dauphin, bless his pretty 
 face; or Isabel, the queen, whom Heaven pre-
 
 112 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 serve ; for what matter to me her frailties and 
 her follies, of which they make such a mighty 
 fuss, poor dear woman ! flesh is flesh, as I said 
 before; and the king, although her husband, 
 cannot well count for one; and so, why not 
 bless her too? But I want not to meddle with 
 politics, as I say to Bourdon, who is always 
 putting his nose, far too much, into such mud ; 
 and if it be a State secret, I beg you will not 
 tell me, maiden ; for I would not know ; I would 
 rather stop my ears." Dame Pernelle put her 
 fingers under the bolsters in the position 
 indicated, though without any appearance of 
 really obstructing her sense of hearing ; but, 
 seeing that Odette did not proffer any intelli- 
 gence, she removed them with the words — 
 " Although it be but little friendly towards near 
 kin of blood to withhold secrets that might 
 with security be trusted to a faithful bosom." 
 
 " You told me, that emissaries from the Lady 
 Abbess awaited me ;" was Odette's only answer 
 to this effusion. 
 
 " To be sure ; the monk, and the old women," 
 replied Dame Pernelle snappishly. " And if
 
 THE LILY OP LAMS. 113 
 
 go you must, child, so be it." So saying she 
 opened one of the chests, and pulled out a large 
 stuff veil or cloak, formed somewhat in the 
 shape of a monastic garment, with which she 
 covered the whole person of Odette. " There 
 are you wrapped to the Lady Abbess's heart's 
 content ; no fear of any gallants peering at 
 you : and your wardrobe shall be dispatched 
 to the convent, as may please the Lady Abbess 
 to command." 
 
 " Farewell, my aunt," said Odette, while 
 Dame Pernelle bestowed with her full lips a 
 kiss on her pure white forehead — a kiss from 
 earth bestowed on heaven. 
 
 " Bourdon you will not see," chattered the 
 dame as she led her to the door. " He is gone 
 to inquire about neighbour Lambert, who has 
 got into trouble — the more fool he : and if my 
 silly husband would but leave off this meddling 
 and making with other people's affairs — although 
 truth is, he is a cautious man and a slow — and 
 it does no harm that he should leave his counter 
 sometimes, and let me have a little freedom — " 
 
 Without, upon the stone landing-place at the
 
 114 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 top of the winding staircase, stood a small spare 
 Carmelite monk, attended by two lay sisters from 
 the convent. He fixed his eyes scrutinizingly 
 upon the maiden's face, left visible by the upper 
 part of her dark covering being thrown back, as 
 if he would have read her whole character at 
 one glance. The result of this rapid investiga- 
 tion seemed to be favourable to his wishes; for 
 a grim smile of satisfaction passed quickly over 
 his hard mouth. 
 
 " Come, my daughter," he said ; " our holy 
 mother awaits thee eagerly. Dame Pernelle, 
 good day; and may heaven preserve you in 
 these fearful times of want and misery, until it 
 grant us a change. Benedicite." 
 
 Dame Pernelle would willingly have chattered 
 a little to the monk, as he descended the stairs, 
 in the hopes perhaps of gleaning some infor- 
 mation relative to the mysterious proceeding of 
 the Lady Abbess. But her head-dress stuck in 
 the doorway, and prevented her following the 
 figures retreating down the stairs. She struggled, 
 she wriggled ; and at the very moment she 
 hoped to make good her passage, a noise in the
 
 THE LILY 01 PARIS. 115 
 
 chamber startled her. The small half-concealed 
 door in the corner of the room opened ; and 
 Perrinet burst into the room. 
 
 " Holy Virgin!" cried the affrighted woman. 
 
 " Dame Pernelle ! " exclaimed the young man, 
 in surprise at seeing her still in the room. 
 
 " Master Perrinet ! how came you here ? " 
 exclaimed the mercer's wife in turn. 
 
 " No matter," replied Perrinet impatiently, 
 seizing her with firm gripe by the arm. 
 " Whither have they taken her ? What would 
 they do with her ? " 
 
 " God's life ! what brought you here ? Did 
 I not tell thee, master — " commenced Dame 
 Pernelle. 
 
 "Whither is she gone, I ask?" interrupted 
 Perrinet. " Tell me ! I will know. From 
 what I heard there seemed a mystery." 
 
 " What should you want with Odette, you 
 good-for-nought ?" commenced Dame Pernelle ; 
 but as the young man grasped her arm with 
 greater violence, she screamed, " What know I ? 
 The Lady Abbess of St. Magloire— " 
 
 " The Abbess ! only the Abbess !" exclaimed
 
 116 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Perrinet. " But still I must — I will know why 
 thus suddenly messengers are dispatched for 
 her." And releasing Dame Pernelle, he hur- 
 ried away, without another word, down the 
 staircase. 
 
 " Thou rude unmannerly loon ! Thou base- 
 born churl ! Thou — " shouted after him Dame 
 Pernelle, red in her face, and suffocating with 
 anger. But, finding that he was out of hearing, 
 she settled her monstrous head-dress, and ar- 
 ranged her tight robe about her bosom, changing 
 her tone, and adding, with a sigh, " He is a 
 likely fellow after all : pity 'tis he should be 
 such a fool to fix his fancy on such a pale-faced 
 puling girl. Pale as a lily, in sooth she is : for 
 my part, I cannot understand the fuss they 
 make about this Lys d'Ange ! "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ABBESS OF ST. MAGLOIEE. 
 
 I've seen the last look of her heavenly eyes, 
 I've heard the last sound of her blessed voice, 
 I've seen her fair form from my sight depart. 
 
 Joanna Baillie. 
 
 Her cheek was pale ; her form was spare ; 
 Vigils and penitence austere 
 Had early quench'd the light of youth ; 
 But gentle was the dame, in sooth. 
 
 Walter Scott. 
 
 When Perrinet reached the street, he looked 
 around in vain for the objects of his search. 
 There were no forms, of the nature he expected, 
 to be seen in the crooked vista of the street 
 towards the direction of the convent of St. Ma- 
 gloire. He darted to several of the narrow 
 lanes, that at that time separated the houses in 
 far greater numbers than at present ; but in 
 none of them could he see any persons who bore 
 resemblance to Odette and her escort. Much 
 time went by in these vain and hurried search-
 
 118 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 ings, until he could not but own to himself* 
 however unwillingly, that they must already 
 have passed on, out of sight, whatever the di- 
 rection they had taken. 
 
 The Rue St. Denis had also commenced to 
 refill with its usual crowd after the hour of the 
 midday meal ; and the increasing number of 
 passengers rendered his search a more puzzling 
 one. Master Cocardas, the trim barber, was 
 again standing before his open porch, exercising 
 that voice, which, in spite of his protestations, 
 was not of the most melodious quality, in invi- 
 tations to his baths and his barber's bench, and 
 displaying his jaunty figure to its full advantage, 
 while ogling the pretty faces of all classes that 
 passed his establishment. 
 
 " Heh ! Master Barber," said Perrinet to him, 
 with some of that impatience and arrogance which 
 formed a part of his character ; " you must have 
 seen pass forth from the mercer's house a fair 
 maiden, accompanied by a monk and two lay 
 sisters, as I was told ; they seem not to have 
 taken the road to the abbey of St. Magloire, as 
 I at first supposed. Which way did they go ?"
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 119 
 
 11 There is never a fair form goes by that does 
 not bestow a look upon persons who shall be 
 nameless," replied Cocardas pertly, not over 
 pleased at the authoritative manner of his ques- 
 tioner ; "and if you speak of the beauteous 
 Odette, the niece of Dame Pernelle, the fair 
 Lys d'Ange, The Lily of Paris, as they call her, 
 why, she cast a glance of so much fire upon my 
 poor worthless face, that, by our Lady, I was 
 dazzled on the spot, and so blinded by that ray 
 of love, that I saw not which way she went." 
 
 " Puppy ! " exclaimed Perrinet angrily, " canst 
 thou not give an answer to a plain question, 
 without overloading it with all this quintessence 
 of affectation, as if thou wert deluging a 
 beard with sickly perfumes? She ! cast a look of 
 love on thy insignificant form! thou dancing 
 poodle, in vest and hose ! She! But I am a 
 fool to anger myself with such a creature. Which 
 way went she ? I ask again." 
 
 " Nay, uncivil words stop a man's mouth 
 like a razor drawn across it," replied little 
 Master Barber, sulkily, although rather alarmed 
 at the passion displayed by the young man ; " I 
 know not, I say. But why ask? women go but
 
 120 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 two ways — if not to the church, it is to the gal- 
 lant's chamber — if not to God, it is to the devil ! " 
 and thus saying he prudently stepped back out 
 of the reach of Perrinet's arm, into the recesses 
 of his bath-house, where he muttered at his 
 ease, " He called me puppy, and he depreciated 
 my parts. Would I could trim his beard on 
 the wrong side of his head for him ! " 
 
 Perinnet had laid his hand upon the hilt of 
 his dagger, but then shrugging his shoulders, he 
 cast a glance of contempt at the retreating form 
 of the barber, and hurried in the direction of the 
 abbey of St. Magloire, where he hoped, at all 
 events, to obtain from the abbess, who had been 
 the guardian to the childhood of them both, 
 some account of Odette's mysterious summons 
 away from the mercer's house. But in spite of 
 himself the words of the barber rang in his ears, 
 and although attaching no value to such ex- 
 pressions, he continued, involuntarily, to repeat 
 to himself, " If not to the church to the gal- 
 lant's chamber," with set teeth and frowning 
 brow, as he strode quickly forwards, thrusting 
 all who met him impatiently to the side. 
 
 The abbey of St. Magloire, which, until within
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 121 
 
 a comparatively late date, stood upon the 
 direct thoroughfare between the heart of Paris 
 and the town of St. Denis, although within the 
 walls of the city, but which has now been en- 
 tirely swept away, except a few broken walls of 
 its former church, that have been used for the 
 foundations of modern houses, was a severe- 
 looking building, with a somewhat heavy and 
 compressed front towards the causeway, but of 
 greater extent behind. The church belonging 
 to the establishment, but constantly open to 
 every one who desired to enter it for purposes 
 of devotion, adjoined the entrance portal, and 
 was of similar plain and heavy structure, with- 
 out much of that brilliant and aspiring ornament 
 so full of deep meaning, so rich in religious 
 symbols, which is usually the characteristic of 
 gothic churches. 
 
 It was to the open door of the church, instead 
 of the low stone entrance-gate of the abbey, 
 where beneath the heavy porch was collected a 
 herd of beggars, old men and women and chil- 
 dren, awaiting the opening of the gates for 
 the distribution of the remnants of the mid- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 the lilt hi r.'.Ms. 
 
 day meal of the inmates, that Perinnet directed 
 
 his steps. He trod hastily along the aisle of the 
 
 church, in which hut a few personages, half- 
 
 by the darkness of the building, were 
 
 at prayer, bending his body, and making the 
 
 of the cross as be ched the altar, but 
 
 more it would seem from the mere force of habit 
 
 than from any feeling of devotion at the mo- 
 
 it : then, entering a low doorway at the end 
 
 of the building on the right, and descending by 
 
 into a vaulted passage, which he traversed 
 
 with the air of one accustomed to tread its dark 
 
 opped at a closed door, and rang a 
 
 bell, which his hand found immediately in the 
 
 obscurity. 
 
 After a short period a wicket was opened in 
 the door, and a withered face appeared at it. 
 
 " Who is there? who wants admittance at the 
 private entrance?" said a cracked voice. 
 
 " It is J ;" replied Perinnet hastily, " I want 
 '■ the Lady Abhess, and immediately. Let 
 me in." 
 
 " Ah! Master Perinnet, i.^ it yon V' said the 
 oil woman, "I did not know you at first, for
 
 THE LILY OF TAHIS. 1:23 
 
 the passage seems to get darker and darker 
 every day. I do not know how it is, but the 
 sunlight is never so strong now-a-days as it used 
 to be." 
 
 "Open, I say, Ursule;" said Perrinet im- 
 patiently; "I must speak to the Lady Abbess 
 forthwith, I tell you." 
 
 " Nay, nay," croaked Ursule the porteress, 
 u not so hasty, young man. I am afraid you 
 cannot be admitted now. I know that you are 
 the foster-child of our Lady Abbess, if I may 
 say so, and you have your privileges, more than 
 any other male mortal man, barring their reve- 
 rences, and perhaps more than you should have: 
 but the Lady Abbess has been strict of late 
 about your comings and your goings — and very 
 right too, for you are no child now, Master 
 Perinnet, and " 
 
 " No folly, Ursule," exclaimed the young 
 man, grasping and shaking the bars of the grat- 
 ing. "My business with the Abbess is urgent: 
 and I must come in." 
 
 " c Must,' is for heaven, and 'will' is for the 
 king," laughed the old woman, shaking her head. 
 G 2
 
 124 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 " The Lady Abbess is already engaged on press- 
 ing business; and that is the truth: and, were 
 I to let you in, I cannot say that you could come 
 to speech of her.''' And old Ursule coughed 
 and shook her head again. 
 
 Perrinet stamped with his foot ; but then, 
 moderating his rising passion, he said, " She will 
 not refuse a hearing to her unhappy foster 
 son, you know it well, good Ursule : nor would 
 you, who have been young, and, I warrant me 
 pretty yourself, and have had a compassionate 
 heart in your bosom, and have so still, I doubt 
 me not, when I tell you that I am wretched and 
 need consolation." 
 
 " Well ! well ! ' said the portress, after a sigh 
 and a smile — but whether brought to her old 
 withered lips by the indirect flattery of the young 
 man, or a more ingenuous feeling of compassion, 
 must remain doubtful. " I will take upon myself 
 to let you in, this once ; for if you need the con- 
 solation of religious counsel, far be it from me 
 to bar the way to you ; although I cannot 
 answer for it that our Lady Abbess will receive 
 you."
 
 TIIE LILY OF PARIS. 125 
 
 The door was at length opened by the monastic 
 she-Cerberus, to whom the young man had thrown 
 so adroit a sop ; and Perrinet was admitted into a 
 more strongly lighted small paved hall. From 
 thence he followed the portress, who continued to 
 grumble to herself about the questionable expe- 
 diency of the deed she had done, through cloisters 
 and corridors, into the interior of the establish- 
 ment. This way appeared so well known to him, 
 that he was constantly on the point of breaking 
 forward and preceding the old woman: but she 
 kept him resolutely back, with remonstrances 
 about his impatience, and absolutely forced him 
 to keep pace with her, as she panted up a flight 
 of broad stone stairs. In a large naked room 
 above, was another lay sister employed at a table 
 in making cramped and minute entries into 
 several large account books, with an expertness 
 unusual in females of the period. She rose at 
 Perrinet's entrance, and expostulated, like the 
 old portress, against disturbing the Lady Abbess 
 in her present business. But Perrinet's argu- 
 ments, and perhaps still more the knowledge of 
 his former intimate footing in the house, at
 
 126 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 length prevailed upon her to take his message to 
 the Superior. After a space of time, which 
 appeared almost interminable to the impatient 
 young man, she returned to say that he must 
 wait the leisure of the Lady Abbess, who would 
 receive him shortly. 
 
 Introduced into a smaller room, also suffi- 
 ciently bare of furniture, but looking out into a 
 tolerably extensive garden on one side of the 
 abbey, and forming an ante-room to the chamber 
 of the Lady Abbess, Perrinet was left alone to 
 cool his heated blood as best he might, with an 
 order to wait quietly. At first he paced the 
 room with his usual impatience : then, as a faint 
 murmuring of voices reached him from the inner 
 room, he could not resist the impulse to approach 
 the door. All at once the feeling came across 
 him, that among those indistinct sounds, he heard 
 the low musical voice of Odette. He applied 
 his ear to the entrance : but the door was too 
 strong, too completely closed, too thickly cur- 
 tained within, to allow any distinct accents to 
 reach him. And yet, again, it was surely the 
 voice of Odette that vibrated so sweetly to his
 
 T1IE LILY 01 PARIS. 127 
 
 heart, if not to his ear : and then the Lady 
 Abbess seemed to speak in solemn tones. He 
 could scarcely restrain his impatient desire to 
 break through every order and enter the room 
 of the Lady Abbess : his habitual respect for the 
 Superior, however, checked this impulse. At 
 length all was still. He listened for some time, 
 his hearing sharpened by his eagerness. Then 
 he thought he heard steps in the garden; and 
 looking out, he saw a thickly veiled female form, 
 accompanied by a Carmelite monk, and two 
 sisters of the house, enter a small door beneath 
 a cloister. He could have sworn that it was 
 Odette. She had really returned to the convent, 
 then? But why this mystery — why a manner of 
 proceeding so unusual in her return? he asked 
 himself. "While occupied with these thoughts, 
 the sound of a handbell came from the inner 
 chamber ; the sister from the outer room passed 
 through to the room of the Abbess, and, shortly 
 returning, lifted the curtains of the doorway, 
 and told him to enter. Perrinet obeyed. 
 
 The Abbess of St. Magloire sat alone in a 
 high-backed chair raised upon a step, near a
 
 128 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 table, on which lay two or three illuminated 
 manuscripts, a crucifix, and the handbell with 
 the small hammer by its side : at her feet was a 
 cushion, upon which seemed still to remain an 
 impress, as if some being had lately knelt there. 
 The Abbess was a woman apparently about five- 
 and-forty years of age, although in reality she 
 might have been some years younger, but wearing 
 a look of premature age, caused by the rigours 
 of a monastic life, or some secret sorrow — a look 
 enhanced also by the severe aspect of the mo- 
 nastic dress that framed her face. That face had 
 been one of much beauty, alihough now worn 
 and very pale : and there was a calmness, not 
 however amounting to severity, in her look, that 
 bestowed upon her a certain air of dignity, 
 which perhaps, at an earlier period of her life, 
 she did not possess. If calmness of mien be not 
 always grace, it wears the semblance of dignity 
 often. A recent emotion appeared still to have 
 left a moisture in the large expressive blue eyes 
 of the Abbess. 
 
 61 Benedicite, my son ! " she said, as Perrinet 
 entered.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 129 
 
 The young man knelt at her feet, and kissed 
 with respect the hand extended to him. 
 
 " You have expressed a desire to speak with 
 me, Perrinet," said the Abbess, after a pause, 
 during which the young armourer still knelt, 
 " and upon matters of an urgent nature, as was 
 expressed to me. What have you to say ? Speak! 
 You know that my ears are ever open to the 
 voice of those who need my aid, and seek my 
 consolation, and to none more than to thee — to 
 you, Perrinet," she added, correcting hastily the 
 tenderer and more emphatic mode of address; 
 u you, who have grown up to man's estate be- 
 neath my very eye — you, who have been as a 
 child to the childless. Speak!" 
 
 " Thanks for those words, mother," said Per- 
 rinet, rising from the cushion, and standing cap 
 in hand before the Abbess, " and mother, too, I 
 may call you, in a worldly as in a spiritual sense, 
 since you call me child, since you have ever been 
 as a mother to one who never knew his own. 
 Thanks for those words, for they tell me of 
 your continued kindly feeling, and your con- 
 fidence; and I would speak with you openly, as 
 G 3
 
 130 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 a man should speak, upon matters nearly touch- 
 ing myself." 
 
 The Abbess flinched slightly at these words : 
 but then composing herself immediately, and 
 removing all traces of a passing feeling of sur- 
 prise or dread, for such it seemed to be, from 
 her expression, she waved her hand to Perrinet 
 to continue. 
 
 " Mother," pursued the young man, " you 
 are one of those privileged beings, half angels 
 upon earth, who, pursuing the even tenor of 
 their path of duty in calm piety, are raised 
 above the feelings and the frailties of the earth ; 
 but there was a time, perhaps, when your heart 
 beat more warmly, — when you might have better 
 understood — But what ails you, mother?" he 
 exclaimed, suddenly breaking off, on seeing an 
 ashy paleness cover the face of the Superior. 
 
 " Proceed ! " said the Abbess resolutely, al- 
 most harshly, although in a choked tone of voice, 
 and with a look of trouble in her eye. 
 
 " I w T ould but have said, that perchance you 
 might know how to compassionate my feel- 
 ings," continued Perrinet, still gazing on her
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 131 
 
 with some surprise. " But why should I thus 
 linger on my way, like a truant urchin, who 
 fears to march stoutly forward in the darkness ? 
 Let me speak out ! When you nursed and taught 
 me in the convent as a boy, my mother, you 
 lavished not on me your only tenderness : you 
 were a guardian also to the orphan, Odette de 
 Champsdivers. Thus, when a hoy, I learnt to love 
 my little playmate as one loves a toy — when a 
 youth, I cherished the bright budding girl as the 
 perfumed rose one lays upon the heart, until one 
 grows intoxicated with its odour; and now I am a 
 man, I love with all the ardent fiery passion of 
 manhood's hotter summer. But you know this, 
 mother — you know it well : you have seen my 
 growing love : and, though you approved it not 
 entirely, and forbade me any longer those mo- 
 ments of rapture when I could see her here, yet 
 you have allowed me the fond hope that Odette 
 should become the wife of my bosom " — 
 
 " I have been imprudent — most imprudent, 
 Perrinet — I do confess it," said the Abbess, evi- 
 dently greatly relieved as to the subject of the 
 young man's revelation ; " but I was blinded by 
 a foolish fondness for you both."
 
 132 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 " Oh ! say not this, my mother," broke in 
 Perrinet more impetuously ; " say not that it 
 was folly ! say not that it was blindness ! The 
 hope of calling Odette mine own is the guiding 
 star that irradiates the path of my whole life. Is 
 the star hid by clouds, my path would be in 
 darkness, and lead but to death. Nay, speak 
 not yet, my mother : hear me out. Again, I 
 say, I cannot live without her. If you have not 
 expressly bid me hope, in words, you have en- 
 couraged that fond hope in many ways. I have 
 learnt to look upon Odette as mine — irrevo- 
 cably mine. I would have brooked delay, perhaps, 
 to meet your will, not in patience, maybe, but 
 still sustained by trust in a bright future ; but 
 now my mind is troubled. To-day — but a short 
 hour ago, you sent for her in a manner so doubt- 
 ful, so mysterious, that an undefined dread of 
 evil has possessed me. Oh tell me, my mother, 
 tell me — Where is Odette ? What has become 
 of her? what would you do with her? Speak! 
 keep me not in an agony of doubt, for — I open 
 my whole soul to you — I tell you I cannot, will 
 not, live without her." 
 
 " You grieve me, my poor son," said the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 133 
 
 Abbess, looking at him with mournful emotion. 
 " Imprudent I have been, indeed. May God 
 and the Holy Saints forgive me ! Perhaps, I 
 too, had hoped — had wished, — but I have been 
 led astray. Nought know we of the future: 
 and yet we stumble blindly forwards, as if that 
 future -were clear and distinct before our eyes." 
 
 ic Your words alarm me still more," exclaimed 
 Perrinet impetuously. " Where is Odette ? what 
 purpose had you in your summons ? Speak ! 
 Nay ! look not so harshly, I do entreat you, 
 mother." 
 
 " The decrees of heaven are above us all," 
 replied the Superior, evasively : " it is not for 
 us, weak mortals, to seek to thwart them — not 
 even to murmur against them. This convent 
 has been honoured with a mission, which may 
 render it blessed among the many ; and it has 
 fallen to the lot of Odette de Champsdivers to 
 be chosen for a high and mighty purpose. Mur- 
 mur then not, my son ; for, should God guide 
 her and bless her pious efforts, her destiny is 
 one to be envied of all women." 
 
 Perrinet started back, as a thought caused his
 
 134 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 cheek to grow still paler than usual ; he looked 
 at the Superior with alarm, and then stammered, 
 
 " Merciful powers ! she takes the veil ! — but 
 no, it shall not be ! " he added, giving way to 
 his passion. "This shall not be endured, no, 
 not even from you, mother. You shall not force 
 her to become a cloistered victim, lost to the 
 world — to me ! Call not that her destiny ! Say 
 not that the finger of God points out that path. 
 Impossible ! it shall not be." 
 
 " Peace, my son," broke in the Abbess at last, 
 somewhat sternly. " Had you not allowed vile 
 passion to lead you thus astray, I had told you 
 at once that Odette takes not the veil : and were 
 such the decree of heaven, it is not for you, 
 proud, hasty, headstrong young man, to outrage 
 thus the purposes of our holy faith/' 
 
 " Pardon me, mother," said Perrinet, but still 
 with more of impatience than submission, ( ' you 
 cannot tell how fiercely rages the boiling flood 
 within my heart — what maddening power makes 
 it overflow ! Pardon me — in the name of my 
 ardent passion — in pity to my tortured mind." 
 
 The Superior would have again spoken, to
 
 THE LILY OF TAJIIS. 135 
 
 warn, if not rebuke him, but Perrinet left her 
 no time. 
 
 " Odette takes not the veil, you say ; — that 
 fearful thought you have rolled, like a crushing 
 weight from my heart. But oh ! speak, I en- 
 treat you ; tell me what is this strange destiny 
 which you mention, and which a powerful pre- 
 sentiment tells me must sever me still more from 
 her, perhaps for ever." 
 
 <; Ask me not, my son," replied the abbess ; 
 as yet I may not say." 
 
 " But to me — to me, your foster child, my 
 mother — to me you may speak surely," cried 
 Perrinet, kneeling once more before her, and 
 stretching out his hands. " My soul is bound 
 to hers ; my life is part of her life; keep me not 
 in doubt." 
 
 " Perrinet, this passion is again unseemly," 
 said the Abbess, putting on a harshness of look 
 unusual to her. " Were it not my duty to be 
 silent, why should I torture you in sport ? Is 
 it my duty, shall I swerve from it for you ? 
 Shame on you ! rise ! I need to give no count to 
 you of my actions or my motives ; but yet I will
 
 136 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 tell you that superior order, for the present, ties 
 my tongue." 
 
 " Superior order!" exclaimed the young man, 
 rising, with a frown upon his brow, " who is 
 superior to you, unless it be his Holiness the 
 Pope of Avignon ? — and he would not interfere 
 in the concerns of the Abbey of St. Magloire — 
 or our poor king ? and he is bereft of sense ; 
 or the dauphin ? — no, it cannot be — you would 
 do her such foul wrong — the very thought is 
 base ; or the Constable ? The people murmur 
 much that he abuses his high power; but yet 
 he would not tear Odette away — to what pur- 
 pose ? — for what infamy ? And yet he — Armag- 
 nac — the Constable — he is the protector of this 
 house. Oh ! it is he ! And you have given 
 him Odette ! the lamb to the wolfs jaws ! You do 
 not speak — you do not answer. What means this 
 mystery ? But speak ! I cannot yet believe it." 
 
 " My son, I must not hear these words," said 
 the Abbess. " Leave me, until in a calmer 
 moment I may speak reason to you : your mad- 
 dened passion, for which pray heaven forgive- 
 ness, would not hear me now. And I too need for-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 137 
 
 giveness, and must seek it in prayer ; for it is my 
 fond weakness to thee that has spoiled the child, 
 and rendered thee the passionate and erring 
 man thou art. Alas ! alas ! Leave me, I say." 
 
 "Unjust! unkind!" cried Perrinet, bitterly. 
 "Oh mother, mother! your stern obstinacy 
 drives me to distraction. But I will fathom 
 this dark business ; I will know all. And be it 
 Armagnac, or what devil of hell it may, who 
 has ravished from me my Odette, I will beard 
 him for his tyranny and his baseness, and call 
 him to a sharp account at my dagger's point, 
 even if I myself must perish in my purpose." 
 As he spoke these words, the violent young man 
 hurried from the room without a further greeting 
 to the Superior. 
 
 " What was that ?" exclaimed the Abbess, whose 
 face had become deadly pale. "Perrinet, my son — 
 come back. I command, I entreat you, hear me." 
 
 She started up, and hastened to the door ; 
 but Perrinet was gone. 
 
 The Abbess staggered back to her chair, and 
 sat down, covering her face with her hands. 
 Suddenly she started up, and struck on the 
 handbell. The lay sister appeared from without.
 
 138 THE LILY OF PAULS. 
 
 " Send off immediately to the Echevin Le- 
 clerc, the guardian of the gate of Saint Ger- 
 main," said the Abbess. " Let him come hither 
 to speak with me with what best despatch he can." 
 
 '* The father of young Master Perrinet ?" said 
 the sister. 
 
 " Yes, the father of young Perrinet Leclerc, 
 if you will," answered the Abbess, hastily. " Let 
 this be done at once." 
 
 As the sister retired, the superior again 
 covered her face with her hands, and seemed to 
 be agitated by a convulsion of emotion. 
 
 Perrinet, on leaving the chamber of the 
 Abbess, hurried through the anterooms, and 
 clown the great staircase, and then, instead of 
 turning off by the side corridors and the cloister, 
 by which he had entered the building, crossed 
 the great outer court towards the principal gate. 
 
 Beneath the porch was still assembled the 
 herd of beggars, to whom remnants of food were 
 being distributed by two sisters. Compact as 
 was the throng, however, most of the mendicants 
 seemed to hold back from one ragged old female; 
 or when forced to come into close contact with 
 her, spat upon the ground and brushed their
 
 THE LILY OL PARIS. 139 
 
 garments, however ragged and dirty they might 
 be. The old woman however, seemed perfectly 
 regardless of the aversion or scorn with which 
 she was treated, grinned and mttered to herself 
 continually, and sometimes poked out a long 
 finger ominously, as if secretly enjoying the 
 evident alarm this action excited among those 
 in whose direction she apparently pointed. The 
 ardent desire of receiving their due dole alone 
 seemed to keep many of the beggars upon the spot. 
 After receiving the morsels offered, without any 
 appearance either of eagerness or gratitude, and 
 cramming them with indifference into the dirty 
 satchel hung about her waist, the old woman 
 seemed disposed to quit the porch ; but as Per- 
 rinet passed her, she started, and hobbling after 
 the young man, seized his arm at the moment 
 he gained the thoroughfare. 
 
 " How goes it with my brave young lover?" 
 she said with a laugh. 
 
 Perrinet shook off his questioner with an 
 angry gesture, as he saw the old woman, who 
 had already fastened herself upon him, while 
 he stood at his watch-post before the oriel 
 window.
 
 140 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " I told thee we should meet again, and soon," 
 laughed Mother Jehanne, " and that the time 
 might come thou wouldst give more heed to my 
 words." 
 
 " Out of my way, beldame ! I want thee 
 not," exclaimed Perrinet, raising his arm with 
 an angry gesture, as the old woman, standing in 
 his way, again confronted him. 
 
 " Ah ! thou Vouldst strike me, my most 
 doughty lover," said the old woman spitefully. 
 " It seems thy true love has already played thee 
 false : the happy lover has more milk of human 
 kindness, and less of raging fire in his veins. 
 There is the angry spot upon thy cheek too; 
 the dissatisfied wrinkle is upon thy brow. Ha ! 
 ha ! does it already go so wrong with thee ? 
 But did I not say so ? Did I not say thy love 
 was of a day, and so would die. The day is not 
 gone by, and the scorpion's sting is in thy heart. 
 Love and hate go hand in hand, a sister pair." 
 
 Mother Jehanne seemed by her desultory 
 scraps of phrase to be rather interrogating than 
 affirming ; but, whether inadvertently or de- 
 signedly, she had touched upon the chord still 
 vibrating so painfully in Perrinet's heart. He
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 141 
 
 stood frowning on the old woman, as if forced 
 to listen to her in spite of himself. 
 
 " Thou hast cast a malefice upon me, per- 
 chance, thou vile sorceress," he said ; u for 
 thou hast spoken true ; since that moment for- 
 tune scowls upon my love." 
 
 " Nay !" replied the old woman, altering her 
 tone, and creeping near him, " I seek to do 
 thee no harm ; hut, maybe, I can show thee 
 how to do harm to thy rival, or those who may 
 have injured thee. Maybe, I can give thee 
 news of the secret movements of thy lady- 
 love." 
 
 "Thou canst tell me where she is gone!" 
 exclaimed Perrinet, led away. 
 
 " Come to the island-point behind the church 
 of Notre Dame, at one hour after sunset ; and 
 there thou shalt learn all that thou wouldst 
 know," whispered Mother Jehanne. 
 
 " I am a fool to listen to thee thus," said 
 Perrinet ; " what shouldst thou know ? This 
 is but a trick of thy trade." 
 
 Mother Jehanne lifted up one hand, and, 
 waving it in the air, repeated her invitation 
 solemnly and mysteriously.
 
 142 THE LILT OP PARIS. 
 
 The young man shrugged his shoulders, al- 
 though his attention was evidently fettered, and 
 his curiosity excited. An old man, who ap- 
 peared to be the sexton of the Abbey Church, 
 came at this juncture through the abbey-gate : 
 on perceiving Perrinet he addressed him. 
 
 " Ah ! Master Perrinet," said the old man, 
 " You might save my old limbs a journey, if so 
 be you are going to the house of your good 
 father, Master Leclerc, at the gate of St. Ger- 
 main. Our Lady Abbess has sent for him to 
 come to her forthwith." 
 
 Perrinet looked down upon the ground, as if 
 lost in thought. 
 
 " She would but send for my old father," he 
 reflected, " in order to bid him chide and warn 
 me, perhaps put restraint upon me. But no 
 matter, I will brave them all. Let them plot and 
 plan, they shall not ravish Odette from me." 
 
 " Said you not Leclerc, the guardian of the 
 gate of St. Germain?" asked Mother Jehanne, 
 meanwhile, of the old sexton. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And he is that youth's father ?" she inquired 
 again eagerly.
 
 THE LILY OF TAHIS. 143 
 
 " Of a surety, old wife," answered the sexton. 
 " But what matter that to you ?" 
 
 " It may matter much," muttered Mother 
 Jehanne to herself ; and then, looking hurriedly 
 about her, she shuffled away into the church. 
 
 " The bidding of the Lady Abbess I will do 
 myself," said Perrinet aloud to the sexton. Be- 
 fore departing, however, he looked around for 
 the old crone, as if with an irresistible desire to 
 question her further ; but she was no longer to 
 be seen. So quickly had she vanished, that it 
 was natural to suppose she had entered the 
 church, the only open building near. Perrinet 
 followed on her steps ; the interior of the build- 
 ing, however, was so obscure that he could 
 scarcely distinguish the nature of the human 
 beings within. At last he thought he saw the 
 form of the old woman standing near a pillar at 
 the upper end, together with that of a small 
 man in the white dress of a Carmelite monk. 
 He moved hastily up the aisle; but, when he 
 turned round the heavy column, near which he 
 thought he had seen them standing, both had 
 disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE HOTEL DES TOUKNELLES. 
 
 Our French Court 
 Is a mere mirror of confusion — 
 
 Our rooms of state 
 
 Kept like our stables ; no place more observed 
 
 Than a rude market place. 
 
 Chapman. 
 
 Such gentle physic, given in time, had cured. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 For a long course of years the Hotel St. Paul, 
 which was built by Charles V. of France, in 
 the Rue St. Antoine, had been the palace occu- 
 pied by the court of France at Paris, in prefer- 
 ence to the western side of Paris and the old 
 Louvre, and perhaps with the design of being 
 more under the immediate shelter and protec- 
 tion of the Bastile ; although, with its heavy 
 flanking towers and battlements, its cumbrous 
 walls, and the capabilities of its construction for 
 the arming of the facade, whatever the air of 
 domination and majesty, which, according to 
 the chroniclers of the time, such a style of archi-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 145 
 
 tectuve bestowed, this palace resembled rather 
 a fortress than a royal residence, and with its 
 kitchen gardens, and yards, surrounded by 
 stables, dove-cots, and fowl-houses, and filled 
 with every kind of domestic animal, and its 
 orchards, that extended as far as the banks of 
 the Seine, wore at the same time the appear- 
 ance of an extensive farming establishment in 
 more modern times. On the opposite side of 
 the street existed, however, at the beginning 
 of the fifteenth century, another building, con- 
 structed in a far lighter and more pleasing style, 
 rejoicing in all the fanciful exuberance of orna- 
 ment appertaining to Gothic architecture, and 
 decorated with a quantity of little towers, the 
 size of which evidently showed that they were 
 for adornment, rather than for use, and which, 
 with their countless spires, that darted upwards 
 in such lavish profusion as to give the whole 
 building the look of a fantastic porcupine, or 
 rather a shape of rich cake studded all over 
 with pointed almonds, had caused this dwelling 
 to obtain the popular designation of the Palais 
 des Tourelles, or Tournelles : and it was to the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE LILY OF PAULS. 
 
 Hotel des Tournelles, as a residence more likely 
 to chase away the dark clouds of madness, that 
 hung, like a constant tempest, over his brain, 
 than the gloomy and severe building of the 
 Hotel St. Paul, that the unhappy Charles VI. 
 to whom it had fallen as an inheritance, after 
 the assassination of his brother Louis, Duke of 
 Orleans, its previous occupier, had been con- 
 veyed. The gayer gardens and park — laid out 
 in grassplots, fishponds, alleys of box, and ver- 
 dant labyrinths, according to the fashion of the 
 times ; and containing pits occupied by wild 
 beasts from foreign climes, for the especial re- 
 creation and amusement of the inmates of the 
 palace — spread over a vast space of ground 
 behind the pcilace, almost incredibly vast, when 
 the size of Paris at that period be taken into 
 consideration ; thus occupying the site of the 
 present Place Royale, in the Marais, and ex- 
 tending to the Porte St. Antoine, so as almost 
 to touch upon the stronghold of the Bastile : 
 and these pleasure-grounds also were probably 
 considered by the king's physician as adapted to 
 the recreation of the unfortunate monarch, when,
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 147 
 
 in intervals of diminished violence, he was in 
 a state to be taken abroad. 
 
 But, spite of its lighter and brighter appear- 
 ance, the Hjtel des Tournelles was not without 
 its numerous legends of mystery and crime, and 
 evil deeds committed during its occupation by 
 previous owners; and it held a proportional sway 
 of horror and terror over the imaginations of the 
 people of Paris, who connected with it a thousand 
 exaggerated tales of darkness. Nor did the 
 residence of the poor mad king in this fated 
 building, combined with the mysterious accounts 
 of his raving scenes of lunacy, and his fearful 
 treatment, contribute little to the vague feeling 
 of half-superstitious dread with which it was con- 
 sidered. It was known, also, that beneath the 
 present royal residence were damp, dark dun- 
 geons, of which the feared and hated Constable 
 was said to make use for the imprisonment of the 
 numerous victims of his tyranny and mistrust — 
 hideous foundations to the fair structure above — 
 the mouldering grave below the glittering and 
 sculptured sepulchre : and, doubtless, this know- 
 ledge added greatly to the popular fancy, that a 
 h 2
 
 148 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 curse lay heavy on the doomed Tournelles. In 
 truth, the building was a strange mixture of 
 a royal habitation, a prison, a country house, 
 and a menagerie — a something composed of the 
 Louvre and the Bastile. 
 
 A casual observer, however, had deemed the 
 palace, probably, the abode of light and joyous 
 hearts, had he judged only by the gay effect of 
 the fanciful building, as a brilliant afternoon sun, 
 on the day when Odette had been conveyed 
 away so mysteriously from the mercer's house, 
 illuminated the thousand little towers of its 
 facade, making them stand glitteringly forth 
 from their thousand accompanying shadows, and 
 danced brightly and lightly upon every flowery 
 sculptured ornament. The same flood of light, 
 also, deluged the great entrance court of the 
 building, and glittered gaily upon the crooked 
 spike heads of the halberds of the men-at-arms, 
 who paced up and down within, or lounged on 
 the steps and stone benches around, and glanced 
 with a perfect blaze of fire from their highly 
 polished steel casques and cuirasses, and showed 
 off the bright colours of their red sleeves and
 
 TIIE LILY 01 PARIS. 149 
 
 variegated striped hose, as well as those of the 
 gav dresses of two or three pages, who, with their 
 long embroidered sleeves hanging to the ground, 
 and the golden tissue of their brighter under 
 garments, and their scutcheons worked in threads 
 of gold and colour upon their thighs — although 
 all this glitter and show was greatly tarnished 
 now, and " fallen from its high estate " of former 
 brilliancy in other and better times of courtly 
 splendour — added not a little to the variegated 
 brightness of the picture, as they stood laughing 
 together in a corner of the court. Difficult, 
 indeed, it might have been to suppose that there 
 — within that building sundered from the rest of 
 the great court, with its broad flight of stone 
 steps leading to a terrace above, over the en- 
 trance in the centre of which was a large stone 
 scutcheon, painted with the arms of France, and 
 announcing that this part of the building was 
 appropriated more especially to the residence of 
 royalty, and was called, apart from the rest, the 
 Hotel du Roi — that there, within, were fearful 
 malady and misery. 
 
 No less difficult might it have been to suppose,
 
 150 THE LILT OP PARIS. 
 
 from the noise of wrangling that arose from the 
 members of a strangely composed assemblage 
 grouped about a large anteroom in that build- 
 ing, that the room was the antechamber of 
 a sufferer, and that sufferer a king. In spite of 
 the misery of the times, and the penurious con- 
 dition of the royal exchequer, there were the 
 remains of original magnificence, however, in the 
 adornments of the room — in the large window, 
 with its richly tinted devices of arms, and saints, 
 and heroes, in coloured glass — in the painted and 
 gilded ceiling, with its huge beams all starred 
 with fleurs-de-lis of gilt pewter — in the rich 
 panelling work around the room, bestudded 
 with rosettes of tin painted of the brightest 
 green and scarlet — and even in the soiled and 
 worn mats of curiously plaited straw, laid around 
 the apartment, that once had glittered almost as 
 brightly as cloths of gold — remains which gave, 
 yet, a faint idea of former princely state. But 
 the furniture of the room was scanty. A sculp- 
 tured oaken sideboard, of many shelves, showed 
 that it had been used as a banqueting room ; 
 but the shelves were now utterly empty of the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 151 
 
 golden dishes embossed with rude mythological 
 devices, the twisted golden jugs for serving 
 hypocras and spiced wine, the embossed golden 
 cups, and the plates of coarse enamel of a 
 thousand fanciful forms and colours, which they 
 had once set forth in goodly show. These 
 articles of value had been melted down or sold, 
 since the departure of Queen Isabel, to replenish, 
 in some degree, the royal coffers ; for the first 
 thought of Charles, the king, in his lucid in- 
 tervals, was ever for the advantage of his state or 
 people, at any personal sacrifice. Chairs or 
 tables there were none : a few heavy sculptured 
 chests, and wooden benches with twisted legs, 
 alone served as resting-places for the few who 
 lounged in the antechamber ; and the original 
 gloom of the apartment, occasioned by the dark 
 painted glass of the windows, and the thick 
 trellis-work of brass wire without, " placed," 
 say the old chroniclers, " to prevent the pigeons 
 from coming into the rooms and making dirt 
 about," seemed to be increased by the general 
 air of desolation that pervaded all. Gaily dressed 
 courtiers, also, and such loungers about palaces,
 
 152 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 were utterly absent; and the few personages, 
 before alluded to, who were grouped about the 
 room, had not the least appearance of the usual 
 attendants upon royal state. 
 
 It was, in truth, a motley assemblage. One 
 of the most prominent of the group was Master 
 Cocardas, the bagnio-keeper, who, in quality of 
 the king's barber and blood-letter — the penury 
 of the royal household not admitting of an 
 official servitor of the kind — attended to know 
 whether there was any chance of a tranquil 
 interval in the king's fits of violence, to enable 
 him to trim the royal beard. Occasionally he 
 blew with his mouth, through his hollowed 
 hands, the live coals of a small hand-chafing- 
 dish, which he had placed in a corner of the 
 room, and upon which simmered water in a 
 brass pot. Occasionally he strutted up and 
 down, jingling in a leathern bag, around his 
 neck, the implements of his double trade, toss- 
 ing his head, and drawing up his person, with 
 one hand upon his hip ; although those of the 
 so-called fairer sex, who were in his high pre- 
 sence, were not such as to render him desirous
 
 TIIE LILY OF PARIS. 153 
 
 of finding favour in their eyes. These were 
 two old women who squatted in another corner 
 of the room, like two frightened cats, to which 
 animals of the grey species, when accustomed 
 to roll in the ashes, they bore no faint resem- 
 blance. They seemed to be busily occupied in 
 counting over the notches in a quantity of sticks 
 of various lengths, which lay in their laps, and 
 the knots tied in pieces of cord as manifold ; 
 although they sometimes raised their eyes simul- 
 taneously like a pair of Siamese twins, from 
 this important operation, to look round upon 
 the other personages with looks of hatred and 
 spite. One of the latter was a tall thin old man, 
 with a bald head, long hollow-cheeked face, 
 and fair ragged beard, who, whether standing 
 still, or pacing slowly backwards and forwards, 
 seemed absorbed in u visions wild and weird." 
 He was covered by a long black robe, tied round 
 the waist with a cord, with a long pointed cowl 
 hanging down behind, and folded his arms 
 cross-fashion over his bosom, as if to protect 
 a clasped book which protruded from the upper 
 part of his dress. Another was reposing on one 
 h 3
 
 154 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 of the great chests used for the purposes of 
 seats. This latter personage was attired also 
 in a black robe, which, however, was of a fine 
 stuff, and lined with fur about the throat, and 
 hanging sleeves. He was a middle-aged man, 
 with a pale, dark, beardless face, but with a 
 quantity of long black hair, that made ample 
 amends for the absence of any appendage of the 
 kind upon his chin. From beneath his black 
 bushy eyebrows, gleamed forth a couple of 
 sharp, small black eyes, that seemed as if con- 
 stantly disposed to cross-fire against each other, 
 were it not for the intervention of a very pro- 
 minent thin hooked nose. By his side was 
 a broad flat open box, — the many phials and 
 little bottles in which, mixed with carefully- 
 folded papers of powders, seemed to proclaim 
 him to be a Mire, or common quack-doctor of 
 those days. At his feet sat a youth, who at 
 first sight might have been taken, from his 
 almost childish face and diminutive stature, to 
 be about fourteen years of age, or even younger, 
 until a sharper investigation might have led to 
 the conclusion, that he was some five years older,
 
 THE LILY OF PABJS. 155 
 
 or even more. His dark pinched face, bronzed 
 almost to swarthiness, had upon it those vague 
 lines of age, at first unperceived, which may be 
 found in the physiognomy of the dwarf; but 
 his form, although slight and boyish, was well 
 proportioned. 
 
 There was a look in the stripling, about his 
 sharp eyebrows, slightly curved at their extremi- 
 ties, and his dark rolling eyes, that was almost 
 demoniac, and would have been disagreeable, 
 had it not been for the expression of extreme 
 intelligence that brightened his whole physiog- 
 nomy ; he was caressing on his lap a long thin 
 evil-looking monkey, one of whose fore-paws 
 was bound up by a slight ligature of linen, 
 giving evidence that the unlucky beast was fre- 
 quently employed for the purpose of proving 
 the doctor's skill, at the request of any individual 
 who might express his curiosity or his doubts, 
 in the operation of bleeding. Both boy and 
 monkey seemed on the best terms with each other, 
 as they grinned amicably in each other's faces, 
 and were equally disposed to bite or scratch, were 
 they affronted by a stranger. A man-at-arms,
 
 156 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 disdainful, seemingly, of the promiscuous so- 
 ciety congregated in the antechamber, where he 
 had to do duty as a guard, stood against an 
 unrepaired broken pane of the painted-glass 
 window, amusing himself by throwing bits of 
 plaster picked from the interstices of the 
 window-frame, through the wire-work without, 
 at the pigeons, or his comrades, in the court 
 below. Carelessness and neglect dwelt on all 
 the features of the scene. 
 
 The spirit of Master Cocardas, in spite of 
 his airs of dignity, assumed probably as due to 
 his superior position of demi-attache to a royal 
 household, as he strutted up and down, seemed 
 somewhat chafed and soured after an amicable, 
 but no less acrimonious, wrangle in which he 
 had indulged with his rival in the art of bleed- 
 ing, the quack-doctor. He stopped, however, 
 at last in a splendid attitude, to address again 
 a few words of questionable conciliation to his 
 enemy, in a tone of suppressed disdain. 
 
 " Sooth to say, Master Cleofas, I have no 
 calling to doubt your experience in the mys- 
 teries of the noble chirurgic science, when I cast
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 157 
 
 eyes upon the woe-begone visage of your distin- 
 guished patient there, the monkey. He seems 
 to have done good and excellent duty, and, no 
 doubt, gives you very pretty practice in his way; 
 although, methinks, a fair round wrist, with its 
 delicate blue veins, or an alabaster foot, such as 
 I have held within my hands, were choicer 
 exercise than the paws of a brute beast" — and 
 Cocardas spoilt the symmetry of his pretty face 
 by a sneer of disgust. " But, no doubt, it is 
 gentle practice for your learning, as I say, w : hen 
 other patients are scarce ; as, in truth, they often 
 must be to you. It is a wondrous pretty beast, 
 though, — a wondrous pretty beast ! " 
 
 The disdain of Master Cocardas went, how- 
 ever, a few inches too far ; for, as he pointed his 
 finger at the ape, with a sort of irritating play- 
 fulness, the animal darted at him with fury, as 
 if piqued at his depreciating remarks, and pro- 
 bably would have done damage to the ends of 
 the dapper barber's taper hand, had not the boy 
 serving as monkey-bearer to the quack, pulled it 
 back with the cord attached to its waist. Master 
 Cocardas started back in alarm at the onset of 
 what he now termed " the ugly brute."
 
 158 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Touch him, Sir Barber, but with the end of 
 your crisping tongs," cried the boy, with an ex- 
 pression as savage as that of the animal, " and 
 I may find cold steel that may be more than a 
 match for your hot iron." 
 
 " Peace, Astaroth," said the quack-doctor 
 angrily, dealing a heavy blow at the head of his 
 monkey-bearer. 
 
 The youth rejoicing in this diabolical name, 
 darted a revengeful look at his master, but only 
 continued to mutter between his set white teeth, 
 and then, fondling the monkey, that still grinned 
 and chattered furiously, to his breast, said in 
 turn, but in caressing tones, " Peace, Zomba." 
 
 " Nor do I doubt of your sage ability, Master 
 Cocardas," said Cleofas the quack-doctor, upon 
 the restoration of a little quiet, glowering at 
 his rival through his dark bushy eyebrows, " al- 
 though me thinks it must have been obtained 
 with little knowledge — but the more merit — the 
 more merit— and although you must acknow- 
 ledge your profound ignorance of the wonderful 
 properties and mixtures of drugs, and herbs, and 
 other medicaments. Sapiens est qui sciet medimeu- 
 ticare et droguare, etpurgare. There you have good
 
 THE LILY OF PABIS. 159 
 
 and sound Latin for you, as was pronounced by 
 the great Hippocrates, and divulged to the world 
 by his pupil, the young Esculapius. But, doubt- 
 less you are but little versed in the learned 
 tongues: and I will expound to you this sage 
 remark, which meaneth, — " 
 
 " Whatever it may mean,"' broke in Cocardas 
 pertly, " it will never prove that all your herbs, 
 and medicaments, and drugs, and mixtures, and 
 properties, have ever done anything towards 
 assuaging the malady of the poor king yonder. 
 I wonder, by my truth, that they should have 
 ever let you try your poison-stuff upon his royal 
 person." 
 
 " Stultitia non concipit" responded Cleofas, 
 pompously. " Had not all the ignorantes in the 
 great city of Paris tried their skill in vain? 
 But when the doctissimus mediciner, Cleofas, the 
 learned physician of the great Emperor of Kathay, 
 and divers other great monarchs, made his en- 
 try within this capital, sacrificing his illus- 
 trious patients, et multum ernolumentum suum, to 
 the welfare of a king attacked of the hot disease, 
 was it not natural that he should be called to 
 exercise his skill ? — "
 
 160 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Skill! " said the barber disdainfully. "What- 
 ever his mightiness the Emperor of Kathay, or 
 her highness the Empress — if of the fair and 
 seducing sex there be any, in such savage lands, 
 which must be a matter of doubt — might have 
 to say in favour of your skill, Master Cleofas, 
 I cannot understand the good it has done, — " 
 
 " When you shall have studied the value of 
 asinus asinorum, MasterBarber," burst forth the 
 quack-doctor, solemnly, " you may, perchance, 
 come to a right comprehensio of the great myste- 
 rium of science, which it is not given to all to 
 understand. Inops est mens barbierorum." 
 
 " I may understand the learned tongues, or 
 I may not," resumed Cocardas; " not that I can 
 find that their knowledge is any merit in the eyes 
 of the fairer sex. But, methinks, all your learn- 
 ing, and your medicines, and your Emperors of 
 Kathay, have not advanced the work of the poor 
 king's restoration to health, any more than the 
 malifices of yon old hags." 
 
 " Hags!" screamed in one breath both the 
 old cats in the corner. 
 
 "Malifices!" pursued the taller, and bonier, 
 and, consequently, stronger of the two, out-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 161 
 
 screaming the other, " malifices, you call our 
 spells and charms, concocted after the best 
 known devices of our art — " 
 
 " And of sovereign power to drive away the 
 foul fiends from the brain, — " chimed in the 
 second cat. 
 
 H And break the chains forged by the dark 
 spirits, — " resumed the first. 
 
 M And send them by the force of spell into 
 the bottomless pit, Tophet, whence they shall 
 never return again! " shrieked the second. 
 
 " Malifices ! hags !" repeated both in a duet: 
 and with one accord they held up their myste- 
 rious knotted cords, and notched sticks, as if 
 they intended to scourge and beat Master Co- 
 cardas from their presence. 
 
 "Nay!" said the barber, somewhat calmed 
 at this outbreak, which seemed to threaten his 
 beauteous person, and putting his fingers in his 
 ears — " I did but surmise, fair dames, that 
 your good work had little prospered. It seems 
 to me, the foul fiend you were called to chase 
 away has not budged very far from his present 
 seat on the poor king's brain, at your bidding."
 
 162 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " And if our charms have not jet worked 
 their spell, it may be thyself, thou barber of the 
 evil eye, that hast counteracted them by accursed 
 operations and malefices of thine own," screamed 
 again the larger scraggier cat. 
 
 " Ay ! I can swear that I have seen thee wan- 
 dering at midnight" — put in the smaller one. 
 
 " Around the gibbet of Montfaucon," cried 
 the former. 
 
 " Muttering words of magic, and plucking 
 poisonous weeds," added the latter. 
 
 " To destroy our charms by thine own sor- 
 ceries," exclaimed both. 
 
 " We will denounce him to the Constable," 
 cried number one. 
 
 " And have him executed, and quartered, 
 and hung, like the two monks of Gascony, who 
 were established in the Bastile, and there did 
 nothing but cast evil spells upon the citizens of 
 Paris," said number two. 
 
 " Nay, I protest, good dames, I meant you no 
 ill," hastily interposed the affrighted barber, 
 again putting his fingers in his ears, on seeing 
 that both the old women were still screaming at
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 163 
 
 him open mouthed ; " if ever I have been seen 
 abroad at night, it was on the soft service of the 
 sex, and with no ill design: and, as for the gibbet 
 of Montfaucon — paugh! I have too fine a nose 
 to venture within a league of it to the windward; 
 and in truth, I doubt not that your good and 
 beneficent spells are as advantageous as any 
 medicaments or other conjurations." 
 
 But with this concession to the sorceresses, 
 who had been employed to use their arts also, 
 among the many vain and despairing attempts 
 made to effect a cure of the king's madness, the 
 unlucky barber drew forth a storm from another 
 quarter, upon the threatening horizon of the 
 assembly. 
 
 " The work is in the hand of heaven and its 
 saints," exclaimed the tall ghastly individual 
 with the book, stalking up to him ; "and it is 
 for those alone, who by watchings, and vigils, 
 and fasting, have acquired a power over the 
 movements of the stars, to direct that hand to a 
 good end. It is by the good and holy book 
 Smagorad alone," he continued, clasping his 
 book more tightly to his bosom, "from which
 
 164 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 all knowledge, and divination, and power over 
 heaven and earth, and the elements is derived, 
 that the devil can be driven from the suffering 
 monarch, and an angel from the skies called 
 down to alight upon his head. The stars — the 
 holy Smagorad — fasting and prayer — in them — 
 in them alone — must erring man seek for some 
 means to turn away his malady." 
 
 " 1 am aware, most holy hermit," said Co- 
 cardas, growing more and more courteous, as he 
 was more and more browbeat, " that his honour 
 the Constable has sent for you from your retreat 
 in Languedoc, whence the reputation of your 
 great piety and knowledge had gone forth before 
 you" 
 
 " What avail the earthly devices of medicine?" 
 interrupted the inspired hermit, whose inspira- 
 tion seemed to wax mighty upon him, now that 
 he had found a listener; " what avail the frivo- 
 lous spells and charms of such as seek their 
 science in stick, or stone, or water, or the dying 
 vegetables of the earth, or in the foul rottenness of 
 the tomb, maybe ? For salvation to the crowned 
 head of an anointed monarch, let us raise our
 
 THE LILY OF PAULS. 165 
 
 eyes to the eternal orbs of heaven — let us re- 
 move them from such celestial contemplation, 
 but to look upon the open pages of the holy 
 
 Smagorad" 
 
 In the midst of this flow of eloquence, the 
 hermit from Languedoc was cut short by the 
 increasing thunder of objurgations from his com- 
 bined rivals. Cleofas rose to attack him upon 
 the superiority of medicinal sciences over all the 
 revolutions of the stars. The old women sprang 
 up with a volley of vituperation still more violent 
 than that flung at the head of the barber. 
 " Hippocrates and Esculapius !" Beelzebub and 
 all his imps!" and "The good book Smago- 
 rad !"' were flung pellmell at each others' heads. 
 Quack-doctor — spell-weaver — inspired prophet 
 — the three types, material and spiritual, and 
 their mixture, types of the delusions of the age 
 — seemed to be coming to an issue by the force 
 of arms, when words served no longer. Master 
 Cocardas had prudently tried to back out of the 
 skirmish he had originated, as was his wont in 
 such matters of emergency ; but, as he stepped 
 backwards, the unlucky barber fell against the 
 boy Astaroth and his monkey, the former of
 
 166 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 whom gave him a violent cuff on the face with 
 his quick hand, while the latter fastened its 
 undamaged fore-paw into his neatly trimmed 
 head of hair. The cries of the barber were 
 added to the noise of the other combatants. 
 The man-at-arms, disturbed by this explosion 
 from his innocent amusement, considered that 
 his office required that he should bang his hal- 
 berd-end as violently as he could upon the floor, 
 and make more noise than all in shouting, " No 
 noise, my masters;" and at this juncture a side- 
 door opened, and a man entered, before whose 
 stern authoritative gesture the tumult was in- 
 stantly quelled. 
 
 The colossal stature of this individual, and 
 the inflexible look of stern resolution stamped 
 upon his whole face, the expression of which was 
 rendered still harsher by a deep-seamed scar, 
 that extended from his prominent and bushy 
 eyebrows, by the side of an eye dark and 
 sombre, and a severe-looking aquiline nose, 
 along a deeply bronzed cheek, until lost in a 
 thick grizzly beard, would have been sufficient 
 to ensure trembling respect wherever he ap- 
 peared, had he not everi held the post of high
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 167 
 
 command, which his own haughty demeanour, 
 as well as the attitudes of submission assumed by 
 all the persons in the anteroom, excepting the 
 inspired hermit, gave evidence that he possessed. 
 In spite of his domestic dress, which consisted 
 of a long outer garment of rich stuff, opened 
 down the left side, so as to show its lining of 
 costly fur, and a brocaded robe, also reaching 
 to his feet beneath, there was a martial air in 
 his whole person, and marks of pressure upon 
 his heavy bald forehead, which showed that he 
 was more accustomed to armour and to casque 
 than to the flowing folds of courtly attire. Had 
 even any one of the personages present been 
 ignorant of his name and rank, the long sword, 
 broad at top, and tapering to a sharp point 
 below, in a scabbard of velvet, studded with 
 fleur-de-lis of gold, which was bound round his 
 under robe, as well as the two serving-men who 
 followed him, in green vests with a broad white 
 cross upon the breast, and scutcheons setting 
 forth four lions, surmounted a count's coronet, 
 embroidered on their thighs, would have suffi- 
 ciently shown that the gigantic warrior was 
 Bernard VII., Count of Armagnac, and of
 
 168 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 Fezenzac, High Constable of France, governor- 
 general of the city of Paris, and captain of all 
 other strongholds throughout the realm; for the 
 sword was the sword of Constable ; the arms were 
 the arms of Armagnac, and the white cross was 
 the rallying sign of the Armagnac; faction, in 
 opposition to the red cross of Burgundy. 
 
 " What means this outcry so near the royal 
 person?" he thundered forth, as he entered. 
 " You, sirrah," he continued to the man-at-arms, 
 "purge me all this rabble from hence forthwith!" 
 
 The guard was about to obey this order with 
 the end of his halberd, after the rude fashion of 
 underlings in authority, in all ages, especially 
 when eager to show their zeal after a neglect of 
 duty, in spite of the hurried expostulations of 
 Master Cocardas, that he was a royal servant, 
 and the confused murmurs of the other person- 
 ages, all according to their kind, when the 
 Constable waved his hands with the words, 
 " But stay !" — then turning to one of the serving 
 men, he asked, whether Messire Guillaume 
 d'Hersilly, the king's doctor, had been ap- 
 prized that his presence was required; and upon 
 being answered in the affirmative, and that he
 
 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 169 
 
 would make his appearance immediately, he 
 again turned to the motley group. 
 
 " Out with these old hags," he said with 
 sharp, abrupt voice, " I wonder they should 
 have dared to show their carrion faces here 
 again. They have had their day ; and they 
 have done more harm than good, if they have 
 done aught. What! ye dare murmur, beldames! 
 Praise the saints, or the devil — my patron, aid 
 me ! if he be your master, that I tie you not 
 back to back in one poke, and have you flung 
 into the Seine to see whether ye sink or swim. 
 Out with them ! " 
 
 The ambitious sorceresses vanished before the 
 halberd-point of the man-at-arms, as if swept 
 away by a besom. 
 
 " You, holy hermit," pursued the Con- 
 stable, u may take back your way to Languedoc. 
 Your prayers and divinations have not thriven 
 better than the spells of yon old women. The 
 stars shine not so brightly in this colder clime, 
 mayhap, as in your far southern country. Go — 
 study them there, man, study them there. Here 
 they avail not. Go — you have had your 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 reward : and be glad that your robe protects 
 you from being treated as a cheat. It has not 
 served all so well, as you may know." 
 
 The would-be saint cast up his eyes to heaven, 
 as if to call down its wrath upon the impious 
 man, and clasping the holy book Smagoradmore 
 tightly to his bosom, stalked from the room. 
 
 " Master Barber, the king is at his worst to- 
 day : he needs you not." 
 
 Cocardas scrambled together his chafing pan 
 and other matters, and backed out of the apart- 
 ment with a multitude of cringes. 
 
 " You are the mire I heard of," continued 
 Armagnac, to the quack doctor, who with bent 
 head was bowing his way out of the room with 
 all his pharmacopoeia, followed by monkey and 
 monke} T -bearer, as if fearful of an equally harsh 
 rebuke, or even worse, from the dreaded Con- 
 stable. 
 
 (i The unworthy Cleofas, mediciner to his 
 mightiness the Emperor of Kathay, Comes illus- 
 trissime," replied the quack humbly, although 
 not forgetting his habit of lying effrontery. 
 
 " Master Mediciner," pursued the Constable,
 
 TILE LILY OF PARIS. 171 
 
 M your task is useless here : your wondrous drugs, 
 which you have vaunted, avail you no better 
 than the trials of skill of Master Guillaume, the 
 king's own doctor : you are worth no more 
 than all the rest : and, by our Lady, were I to 
 bestow due justice on you, I might — but no 
 matter, I may need you still. Come hither, 
 man — nearer — nearer I say — God's body ! leave 
 those cringing capers, and come hither." 
 
 Cleofas drew himself up into an instant change 
 of attitude, and approached. The Constable 
 continued in a low voice — 
 
 * Thou hast no drugs that cure, fellow — at 
 least not such maladies, over which thou hast 
 falsely boasted thy power of control. But 
 thou hast other means, maybe, that — " Armagnac 
 hesitated. 
 
 " That kill, Comes superbe?" asked Cleofas, 
 with an evil smile. 
 
 " I said not so, rascal," said the Constable 
 hastily; "but go, now, and wait my leisure be- 
 low. I may need to speak with thee hereafter." 
 
 The quack doctor also retired with both his 
 attendants, boy and beast. 
 i 2
 
 172 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 " My Lord Count has sent for me," said a 
 grave-looking middle-aged man, attired in a long 
 loose black robe, who had entered unperceived. 
 
 " Ah ! Messire Guillaume d'Hersilly," said 
 the Constable, " I did not see you. I was busy 
 with all this rabble of the earth, by which the 
 palace has been thronged of late." 
 
 " My Lord Count has found them useless," 
 said the physician, with a satisfied air, " and as 
 such has dismissed them : and not too soon, 
 alas ! Have not my words come true, most 
 noble Count ? Has not the effect of these dis- 
 tracted remedies been to aggravate, rather than 
 assuage, the evil ? I speak not this because of 
 my disgrace — because the care of the king's 
 person has been taken from my hands ; but of 
 my full and true conviction." 
 
 " By the Holy Shrovetide, Master Guillaume, 
 would you cast the fault in my teeth ?" exclaimed 
 Armagnac angrily, and looking sternly at the 
 physician: " are you of those who would insinu- 
 ate that I would rather that Charles, our king, 
 should remain in his distracted state, in order 
 that I may reign in his stead — that I would do
 
 THE LILY Or PARIS. 173 
 
 him evil instead of good ? It were a lie that 
 I would cram with my dagger's hilt down 
 your throat, as down the throats of all who dare 
 to utter it. Does not his hand still sign ? and 
 is it not all-powerful in its signature ? Do I 
 not watch each lucid interval, each feehle glim- 
 mering of that darkened intelligence, in order to 
 catch an expression of his will ? Do I not stand, 
 like an augur of the heathen ages, to transmit 
 the doubtful oracles that fall from his lips — and, 
 God's body! what oracles they be ofttimes !— - 
 oracles from a poor idiot's mouth. He reigns 
 still, I tell you, Messire, and not I." 
 
 The physician endeavoured to repudiate every 
 idea of having made an insinuation of the nature 
 to which the Constable alluded ; but the im- 
 petuous Count turned away to walk hastily up 
 and down the room. The current of his thoughts 
 appeared changed ; although he still excused 
 himself aloud from the imaginary charge of 
 neglect or improper treatment of the king, as if 
 doubtful and mistrustful of himself. 
 
 " Who shall dare to say that fault rests 
 with me? Has not all been tried? Where 
 was peace first sought as the best remedy
 
 174 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 for his troubled mind ? In God's blessing, and in 
 prayer and pilgrimage. Was he not vowed unto 
 St. Denis? and did not the saint receive the offer- 
 ing of a rich golden shrine ? Were not public 
 prayers ordained to every saint in turn ? Were 
 not presents sent to the holy chapel of St. Ac- 
 quaize, with an image of the king in wax, the 
 size of life, and a wax candle of unheard-of 
 size, to burn before the shrine ? Was he not 
 taken himself to the Mount St. Michael, in 
 periculo maris, on a pilgrimage ? Was not his 
 daughter offered to our blessed Lady, with the 
 hope that her innocence might expiate his 
 crimes, if for his crimes he has been punished? 
 And all in vain. The people have wearied hea- 
 ven with prayers, and wearied themselves with 
 praying ; and, when they found that God heard 
 them not, they have addressed their prayers to 
 the devil himself. To him, too, I have had re- 
 course then : and, where heavenly supplication 
 has failed, sorcery has been tried. Heaven, hell, 
 and earth have been ransacked for a cure. 
 Earth came in thy form, Master Guillaume — in 
 the form of human science. What didst thou 
 effect, that I should flinch from profiting by the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 175 
 
 last hope of those who promised greater mar- 
 vels ? Nothing. I have tried them then ; 
 they have failed again. An irremediable curse 
 seemed to rest on the head of Charles. I have 
 driven these last useless boasters from hence; and 
 I have sent again for thee : for thou hast already 
 propounded a fresh scheme for softening the 
 violence of the king ; and I have already taken 
 measures that this remedy be tried. Again, have 
 I not done all that lay in the power of earthly 
 man? And yet they say that I would trample 
 down still lower his crushed intellect — that / 
 would reign." And the Constable resumed his 
 angry pacing, which he had interrupted for a 
 time, during his discourse with the physician, 
 who waited gazing on him calmly and patiently. 
 At length he stopped, although with a heavy 
 cloud of doubt and trouble on his brow. 
 
 "It cannot be otherwise," he said suddenly; 
 " we must impose fresh taxes to meet the needs 
 of this disastrous war with the invading English : 
 we must, whatever be the price, fill the coffers 
 of the state, in order to make head against that 
 villain rebel, Burgundy. God's life ! they press 
 upon us now on every side. But Armagnac was
 
 176 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 never born to bow his head before the storm, 
 however dark the thunder-cloud, however blast- 
 ing the lightning. We must have money, I 
 say ; and the king's hand must sign the ordinance. 
 The people hate me ; they call me bloody, proud, 
 tyrannical: so be it," — and the Constable laughed 
 disdainfully. " But they still love their suffering 
 king : they look on him as one humiliated by the 
 hand of God; and yet they love him. What 
 strange hearts have this rabble of the earth ; 
 splendour, and power, and the master-mind they 
 regard no longer ; but they have sympathy with 
 misery and the idiot's folly, as if the stamp of 
 God's burning seal had given it the impress of a 
 holy sanctity. It must be done ; they will mur- 
 mur still : but I have means to fright them into 
 due submission. His hand must sign ; and I would 
 not use foul means. You have faith, then, in 
 your new device of remedy," he added, turning 
 full upon the physician. 
 
 " I have faith," answered Guillaume d'Her- 
 silly ; t( and if Monseigneur will hear me 
 patiently, I will explain my thought." 
 
 The Constable threw himself down upon a 
 chest, and, placing his elbows on his knees and
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 177 
 
 his head between his hands, he gazed fixedly at 
 the man of science. 
 
 " From the first moment the important mis- 
 sion of the king's restoration to health was con- 
 fided to my hands, it has been my task to study 
 the nature of the disease in every bearing," com- 
 menced the physician. " I remarked that every 
 noise disturbed and agitated the patient ; 1 
 caused the very bells to cease to ring. I ob- 
 served that the sight of the fleur-de-lis threw 
 him into an ecstasy of rage ; I know not why. 
 Was it the shame of royalty degraded ? He 
 would turn them into ridicule, dance in mockery 
 before them, break them from the painted win- 
 dows, scratch them from the walls — from the 
 very ceilings, had he been able. I caused every 
 heraldic emblem of royalty to be removed from 
 his eyes ; but still his violence was great. He 
 refused to eat or drink ; when in bed, he would 
 not rise ; when up, he would not lie down. I 
 employed men dressed in strange attire, with 
 blackened faces, as you are aware, to frighten him 
 into submission ; and I succeeded. The patient's 
 moral courage had fled with his reason ; the 
 animal instinct of preservation alone remained : 
 I 3
 
 178 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 and Charles the king, so hardy and brave, 
 trembled like a child, and obeyed without 
 daring to utter a murmur, but that of pain and 
 suffering. But in time, I observed that the 
 good effect produced upon his body by the 
 remedies I then forced upon him was dimi- 
 nished, perhaps destroyed altogether, by the dis- 
 astrous effect such means produced upon his 
 mind. I had already revolved other methods in 
 my brain, when my Lord Count, impatient and 
 mistrustful, removed me from the royal presence." 
 
 The Constable shrugged his shoulders, and 
 then said impatiently, " I have sought your aid 
 again, Master d'Hersilly ; let that content you. 
 Proceed !" 
 
 " Sometimes the violence of the patient, how- 
 ever, was subdued — his spirit calmed," continued 
 the physician. " In such moments, methought, 
 a form of softness and grace might produce a 
 more salutary effect than the hideous masks of 
 his terrific guardians : a voice of tender melody 
 might vibrate upon that heart, that as yet had 
 palpitated only with alarm. The charm of soft 
 tenderness, methought, and soothing compas- 
 sion, might exercise a power over the suffering
 
 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 179 
 
 soul as well — and, in their result, far better — 
 than the agony of fear. In history we have 
 instances of infatuation, of fascination akin to love 
 and yet not love, that exercised the most power- 
 ful influence over the soul. It was a lake, 
 which so fascinated the powerful Emperor Char- 
 lemagne, that he could not withdraw his eyes 
 from it. If, then, senseless nature — the dumb 
 forests and the cold waters — could thus captivate, 
 what might not lovely woman's spell?" 
 
 "It is well, Master Doctor,' 1 said the Con- 
 stable, again shrugging his shoulders somewhat 
 disdainfully ; " your fancy shall have its swing : 
 the Holy Virgin grant it a blessing." 
 
 " Monseigneur has already taken measures 
 for this purpose, as he was pleased to tell me," 
 remarked the physician. 
 
 " I ordered that the brightest and the fairest 
 should be chosen from the maidens in our be- 
 loved convent of St. Magloire, who had not yet 
 taken the veil," answered Armagnac rising. 
 11 The Lady Abbess was apprised by me of my 
 will ; and Jean Petit, the Carmelite, whose ac- 
 tive and intelligent spirit is of much avail to 
 me, received the mission to this intent."
 
 180 THE LILY OE PARIS. 
 
 The physician gave a dissatisfied look. 
 " This does not please you, Master d'Hersilly," 
 remarked the Constable impatiently. 
 
 " It is the agent I like not," replied Master 
 Guillaume. "I mistrusthis pliant manners, and his 
 subtle mien. And I have heard strange rumours — " 
 
 " What r asked the Count. 
 
 " That he is affected to the cause of Burgundy." 
 
 The Constable laughed disdainfully, with the 
 words, " Meddle not with politics, Master 
 Doctor. I know my man." 
 
 Guillaume d'Hersilly was about to reply, 
 when the side door again opened, and the little 
 Carmelite monk himself appeared, followed by 
 his customary acolyte. But instead of the 
 imposing bearing he had endeavoured to assume 
 in the throng of the Rue St. Denis, the monk 
 wore a humble, almost cringing mien, which 
 might have nigh misled in the identity of the 
 person. He bowed submissively to the Constable. 
 
 " Ah ! it is well," said Armagnac : " your 
 mission is fulfilled." 
 
 " She is there — in the king's chamber," was 
 the monk's reply in a low soft tone. 
 
 " Come, Master d'Hersilly," pursued the Con-
 
 THE LILY Of PARIS. 181 
 
 stable ; " we will see this rara avis, as the doctors 
 call it, before the king's return from his airing 
 in the gardens. For you, Master Jean Petit," 
 he added, turning to the monk, " I have another 
 mission in store : there is a prisoner, convicted 
 of sedition, in the dungeons, to whom be it your 
 task to administer ghostly consolation before he 
 dies — since such has been our lord the king's 
 late ordinance, issued in an excess of humanity, 
 as it pleased our lord the king to call it. Who 
 is without ?" 
 
 The man-at-arms again entered. 
 
 " Let the monk be conveyed to the dungeon 
 of the prisoner of this morning, and have free 
 access to him," said the Constable : and with a 
 wave of the hand to the monk, he left the 
 apartment, followed by the physician. 
 
 " Let them do their will," said the Carmelite, 
 with a look of scorn, now drawing himself up 
 so as to approach the ear of his burly com- 
 panion, and speak to him in a whisper, as they 
 followed the man-at-arms ; " I will find means to 
 see her yet again, and work her better to my will. 
 It shall not be said, Brother Abdias, that I have 
 laboured in this matter to no end or purpose."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE KING'S CHAMBER. 
 
 All this thou seest is but a clod 
 And module of confounded royalty. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Thus, frantick crazy man, God wot ! 
 I'll call to mind things half forgot, 
 
 And oft between 
 Repeat the times that I have seen. 
 
 Herrick. 
 
 The chamber into which the Constable, ac- 
 companied by Master Guillaume d'Hersilly, the 
 king's physician, entered, exhibited a strange 
 mixture of former splendour — such splendour 
 as the age afforded — and sad disorder. The 
 great size of the room, and demi-obscurity pro- 
 duced by the painted-glass windows, contributed, 
 with the confusion that prevailed throughout it, 
 to render its aspect desolate in the extreme. 
 The only sign of more cheerful life and anima- 
 tion proceeded from the fire, which, in spite of 
 the warmth of the genial spring-tide, flickered 
 from the hearth of the immense chimney-place, 
 upon the great figures of saints, grotesquely
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 183 
 
 mingled with fantastic beasts of polished brass, 
 that encumbered rather than adorned its huge 
 fender. Opposite to this blazing fire was one 
 of the large beds of the period, about twelve 
 feet square, the curtains of which, of rich green 
 damask worked with flowers of gold, torn in 
 parts into strips and rags, together with the 
 disordered state of the counterpane of the same 
 materials, and the bed clothes, gave evidence of 
 the occasional violence of its sad occupier. The 
 floor was covered with scattered remnants of 
 broken furniture and dishes, which the careless- 
 ness of attendants had neglected to remove, or 
 had only hastily kicked aside into corners of 
 the room. Tapestry hangings, interwoven with 
 threads of silk and gold, representing the 
 doughty deeds of heroes and gods of the hea- 
 then mythology, hung here and there, partly 
 detached from the cornices above, or were, like 
 the bed-curtains, torn into long melancholy rags. 
 One strange feature of this apartment of de- 
 struction and desolation, consisted in the spots 
 of bare wood upon the beams of the ceiling, in 
 the broken pieces of the huge sculptured chim-
 
 184 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 ney-front, in the holes designedly cut in various 
 parts of the tapestry, and in the lozenges of 
 common coarse horn, which occupied, in patches, 
 certain intervals among the rich colours of the 
 painted glass: this trait alone, which showed 
 the places where the fleurs-de-lis, so obnoxious 
 to the unfortunate king in his moments of 
 frenzy, had been removed from his eyes, would 
 have proved that this chamber of sadness was 
 the chamber of the mad monarch, Charles VI. 
 The image of the destruction effected by a shat- 
 tered mind was upon all around ; but the marks 
 of devastation seemed to be produced rather by 
 the senseless wild beast than by the hand of a 
 human being, on whom sense had been be- 
 stowed : the very soul of the chamber itself also 
 was defaced ; and the ruin of human intelligence 
 was sadly typified in the ruin of former regal 
 splendour. 
 
 Two pieces of furniture seemed alone to have 
 been spared by the destroying hands of the un- 
 fortunate occupier of the room. The one was a 
 large chair, with a high sculptured back of wood, 
 painted in green and decorated with roses in
 
 TILE LILY OF PARIS. 185 
 
 relief, and with a seat and arms of red leather 
 ornamented by long gold fringes, and studded 
 with brass nails — which stood by the fireside, with 
 a rude metal box, pierced with holes above, and 
 filled with glowing coals, for the warming of the 
 feet, before it. This was the seat of the poor 
 king in his moments of melancholy — his place of 
 refuge and his tabernacle — the throne, from 
 which in his rare lucid intervals, he still dis- 
 pensed justice to his subjects. The other object 
 was a kneeling chair of crimson velvet, relieved 
 with knobs of gold, and surmounted by a crucifix 
 bearing the image of the expiring Saviour. 
 What had been the strange, mysterious sym- 
 pathy with that divine object of suffering in 
 human form — or what the last feeling of piety 
 and devotion yet lingering in a mind lost to all 
 other glimmerings of reason, that had caused 
 that object for religious exercise to be respected 
 by the frantic man ? Who could tell what 
 sparks of diviner fire still lurked among the ashes 
 of his reason, even in their seemingly utter 
 darkness ? Who, indeed, could say ? 
 
 At that chair knelt the only living being in
 
 186 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 the chamber, when Armagnac and the physician 
 entered. It was a maiden, in white attire, 
 whose fair hair hung in long veil down her hack. 
 She appeared to be praying fervently, and in 
 trouble of spirit. But, when she rose at the 
 noise made by the persons entering, her face, 
 after a sudden movement of nervous tremour, 
 wore that look of angelic calm which was its 
 chief characteristic. She clasped her hands 
 before her, as if relieved in mind at the sight of 
 those who had come in, and then modestly cast 
 down her eyes. 
 
 " It is an angel from heaven ! " cried the Con- 
 stable, surprised by the striking aspect of the 
 maiden into a burst of admiration, unusual in a 
 man whose mind was totally unsusceptible to 
 any outbreak of enthusiasm — whose feelings 
 never warmed except to deeds of battle and to 
 ambitious intrigue, or to an occasional fit of 
 devotion to some saint. 
 
 " An angel, by my truth ! " murmured the 
 still less poetical-minded physician, the man of 
 dry research and of materialism. "It is that very 
 angel face I might have dreamt of, had my dull
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. 187 
 
 fancy sufficed to paint it ! the saintly form, 
 whose soothing presence may best effect the 
 wondrous cure I hope to make." 
 
 11 Your name ? " said Armagnac, to the bright 
 apparition before him ; modifying, by an instinct 
 of involuntary delicacy, the harsh tones of his 
 rough voice. 
 
 " Odette de Champdivers," was the maiden's 
 answer. 
 
 " You tremble," resumed the Constable. 
 
 " Like enough ; although I knew it not, my- 
 self," replied Odette, timidly. " I am all unused 
 to such a presence ; and, although I have prayed 
 fervently to the saints above for courage and 
 support, I cannot divest my mind of all fear." 
 
 " You know, then, the mission for which you 
 have been selected ? " continued the Count. 
 "You are prepared to meet its — " He hesitated 
 to express the word which lingered on his tongue, 
 as if afraid of alarming her. 
 
 "Its dangers," said Odette. "Yes. I am 
 but a weak woman, it is true ; and, when I look 
 around me, I am no more, methinks, than the 
 poor trembling kid that is thrown, they say, into
 
 188 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 the den of the lion in yonder park. The hand 
 that has broken those pieces of strong wood," — 
 she pointed to the fragments of furniture lying 
 around — " might crush, it seems to me, a frail 
 being like myself, only by a touch. And, alas ! 
 I possess not the harp of David, that soothed 
 Saul the king, in his hour of frenzy. But I have 
 trust in that Power, which guided the hand of 
 David, to guide my feeble efforts also." 
 
 " We will be close at hand, maiden, with his 
 guardians, to rescue thee from injury, if there be 
 need," said the Constable, more and more struck 
 with the simple and unembarrassed earnestness 
 of the maid, who almost appeared to his eyes as 
 if inspired or supported by a divine power. 
 
 " My soul is not afraid, even though my body 
 trembles," resumed Odette calmly. " I fear not 
 death ; although, maybe, I fear, as a mortal and 
 a woman, the short, painful passage from life 
 into eternity. But, what is life — what death, 
 when a divine mission of love is confided — ay ! 
 and to one so little deserving of so noble and so 
 great a task — by pious and holy hands ? What 
 is life, what death, in the face of a sublime duty ?
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 189 
 
 Believe me, Sirs, it needed not the wise coun- 
 sels, the kindly exhortations, and the pious 
 prayers of my beloved abbess, to make me feel 
 how blessed is the task of serving our anointed 
 lord the king — of offering life, even, — and happy 
 thus to die — if the sacrifice of that life could as- 
 suage his wretched sufferings. Proud and happy 
 am I to have been selected for the task." Her 
 eyes rilled with moisture. 
 
 The tranquil firmness of the maiden, as she 
 spoke, combined with her calm enthusiasm and 
 her beauty, made a deep impression upon the 
 astonished men who listened to her. 
 
 " Give her your instructions, Master Guil- 
 laume," said the Constable, unable to answer her. 
 
 "What should I say, Monseigneur ?" an- 
 swered the physician, in a low tone to him. 
 " A host of recommendations were in my mind ; 
 they seem to have flown — they are forgotten — 
 my mouth refuses to speak them. A superior 
 power dwells within her. I leave all to the 
 feeling and the inspiration of the moment, in a 
 soul so pure. I would have counselled, soothed, 
 and comforted her. Does she need counsel or
 
 190 THE LILY OF PAKIS. 
 
 encouragement from me ? She has far stronger 
 within herself. Let us leave her to her task. 
 My hopes in her are great." 
 
 As the two men again turned to leave the 
 room, the Constable looked once more upon 
 Odette. She appeared so tranquil and resigned, 
 that the stern, cold warrior stretched forth his 
 hand to her, and said, as if by an involuntary 
 impulse, " God bless thee, my daughter ! " 
 
 When left alone, Odette stood for some time, 
 on the same spot, as if lost in her high thoughts; 
 then she raised her head at last, and looked 
 sadly around. She gazed for some minutes, 
 with deep emotion upon the chair in which 
 had so often reposed the person of the unhappy 
 monarch ; and then, with tears in her eyes, she 
 hurried to the kneeling-stool, and, with joined 
 hands, again knelt, and prayed fervently before 
 the crucifix. 
 
 She was still thus engaged in her earnest sup- 
 plications when a violent noise was heard with- 
 out, as if of exclamations and screams from a 
 being under the influence of excessive fear. 
 Odette sprang up from her kneeling position.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 191 
 
 The shrieks approached nearer and nearer — 
 then came the noise of flying footsteps — and 
 then, in the adjoining room towards the interior 
 of the building, that of a violent struggle, and of 
 various vociferations and threats, as if several 
 pursuers had gained upon and seized the fugi- 
 tive. Although she had armed herself with 
 courage and resolution, the soul of Odette 
 grew faint within her as she listened to these 
 hideous sounds. The wainscoting alone seemed 
 to separate her from the drama of terror and 
 violence passing on the other side. The first 
 instinctive movement of the trembling girl was 
 to fly to the door on the opposite side of the 
 chamber. Her hand was already on the latch, 
 when she drew it back, with a look of self- 
 reproach upon her lip. She elevated her head 
 proudly, raised her eyes upwards, as if with 
 a short silent prayer for courage, and crossed 
 her arms before her, with the resigned look 
 of a martyr-saint about to appear in the 
 arena of the lion. Unable, however, wholly 
 to overcome her woman's fears, and actuated 
 perhaps, also, by a prudential feeling, she again
 
 192 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 looked around her, hurried to the bedside, and 
 hid herself behind the curtains, although in 
 such a position as to be able to see what passed 
 in the chamber. At the same instant she heard 
 the voice of the physician cry — " Let go the 
 king." The door opened with violence. 
 
 Odette had never seen the person of the 
 unfortunate monarch of the disturbed realm of 
 France ; but it was impossible not to recognise 
 at once, the unhappy Charles, in the apparition 
 which suddenly darted into the room. Although, 
 at that period, not above fifty years of age, the 
 poor maniac was so worn by his malady as to 
 appear many years older : he had the aspect of 
 an aged and a stricken man. His face, long, 
 pale and melancholy, still preserved traces of 
 an early beauty, that had been vaunted for its 
 majesty — a characteristic which suffering had 
 increased, rather than diminished, by its hallow- 
 ing touch. But now that expressive face was 
 horribly distorted by the agony of fear; his 
 eyes started from his head; his grizzling hair 
 was torn off from his half bald forehead, and 
 fell, clammy with the heavy perspiration that
 
 THE LILT OF PARIS. 193 
 
 clung also about his pale brow, in clotted grey 
 masses down his hollowed cheeks until it joined 
 the whitened beard, which untrimmed and dis- 
 ordered, seemed torn in patches, as if handfuls 
 had been plucked from it by the maniac's own 
 destructive hands. The black velvet robe, lined 
 with ermine, which covered the person of the 
 king, was soiled and spotted with the marks of 
 neglect, and rent here and there in long strips 
 that fluttered wildly about him as he rushed in. 
 The first action of the distracted man was to 
 look around in every part of the room as if for 
 an arm to defend himself. Not finding what he 
 sought, he clenched his fists and turned in 
 anger to the door by which he had entered ; it 
 had been closed behind him. For some time he 
 gazed upon it as if undecided what he should 
 do ; he seemed to seek in vain a bolt which had 
 been removed; then, with eyes gleaming with 
 the satisfaction of the idiot, who has conceived 
 a thought, he crept upon tiptoe, as if fearful of 
 being heard, to a heap of broken furniture, and 
 collecting several heavy pieces in his arms, he 
 flung them down before the door, as though he 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 had thus found a means of defence against his 
 enemies. That deed done, he burst into one of 
 those wild screeching madmen's laughs which 
 make the blood run cold in the veins of those 
 who hear them, and which caused every fibre 
 in the frame of the poor hidden girl to quiver 
 painfully; and then, letting fall his arms down 
 his sides and his head upon his bosom, he 
 walked slowly to the chair before the great 
 fire-place, where he sat down with his feet upon 
 the box of coals, his elbows on his knees, and 
 his hands pressed convulsively on either side of 
 his temples, with a gesture that seemed habitual 
 to him. 
 
 As he thus sat, a sudden prostration of force 
 seemed to have succeeded to the fit of maniac's 
 rage ; with the absence of the objects which had 
 caused his terror, the hot fever appeared also to 
 pass away from his brain ; he rocked himself 
 softly and sadly, backwards and forwards in his 
 chair. But, shortly, a cold fit of ague seemed 
 to pass through all his frame ; his whole body 
 shivered ; his teeth chattered, and his head 
 shook with an appearance of extreme suffering.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 195 
 
 In vain he held forth his trembling thin hands 
 to the fire ; an icy coldness seemed to have 
 obtained the mastery over his whole person. 
 
 In proportion as the maniac's bodily strength 
 gave way, did Odette's moral force return. Pity 
 for the suffering of the poor man before her was 
 the predominant feeling in her heart. With the 
 thought also that the miserable, shivering crea- 
 ture, was a king — an anointed king — to her, 
 after the Holy Trinity and the saints, the object 
 of the deepest reverence — a sentiment of venera- 
 tion, of devotion almost, for a being who appeared 
 before her eyes as a suffering martyr, took pos- 
 session of her whole soul, and filled it with that 
 strange species of devoted love, which the peo- 
 ple also, during this extraordinary reign, never 
 ceased to feel for their poor monarch, humiliated 
 by the hand of God, even at the moment that they 
 murmured and rebelled against the splendid, 
 courageous, and intelligent, although proud, 
 bloody and violent princes, who sought to rule 
 them. Odette was not perhaps wholly devoid 
 also of that superstitious respect entertained so 
 often among the lower classes, and especially in 
 k 2
 
 196 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 the middle ages, for those deprived of reason — 
 a reverence still entertained by the Mussulman, 
 who regards the idiot as marked with the hand 
 of God, and often as a sacred and holy person- 
 age ; and even by many of the inhabitants of 
 Switzerland and Savoy, who still retain the 
 touching belief, that a cretin brings luck to the 
 family in which the poor monster is born — a 
 feeling founded, perhaps, upon the reasoning 
 that the idiot, in following, like the brute beast, 
 the inspirations of instinct alone and dispensing 
 with all individual will, relies more directly upon 
 the divine reason, approaches more nearly the 
 divine essence. 
 
 It was with these mingled sentiments of pity 
 and veneration that Odette advanced from her 
 hiding place, her eyes swimming with her rising 
 tears, and kneeling down at some little distance 
 from the unhappy monarch, stretched forth her 
 hands to him in the attitude of prayer, as were 
 he a saint before her. The king remained, hold- 
 ing forth his cold hands to the blaze, unconscious 
 of her presence. Odette let fall her arms and 
 rose.
 
 THE LILY or PARIS. 197 
 
 " Can his poor handmaiden do aught for my 
 lord the king?" she said at last in low timid voice. 
 
 The king remained for some seconds as if 
 the unusually low voice made with difficulty an 
 impression upon his sense of hearing, and then 
 turned his head slowly in the direction of the 
 maiden : for a time he looked at her with that 
 soft melancholy expression, which was habitual 
 to him in his saner moments, and then smiled 
 sadly : then, shaking his head with a look of 
 utter misery, he said, in a lamentable tone, " I 
 am cold — cold — very cold." 
 
 Odette at these words came forward with 
 ready anxious step, and without fear, knelt be- 
 fore him and took both his hands in hers : they 
 were, in truth, icy cold. She rose without a 
 word, hurried to the bed, took one of the cover- 
 ings from it, and warming it at the fire, threw it 
 over the lower part of his person and his hands. 
 The sufferer appeared to find some relief from 
 the warmth, for he looked kindly at Odette, and 
 laughed with a low plaintive laugh. 
 
 " My lord the king is less cold now," said 
 Odette.
 
 198 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " King, what king?" said the monarch, look- 
 ing at her suspiciously. 
 
 " You the king," said Odette again, " King 
 Charles the Sixth of France." 
 
 " I am no king," replied Charles violently : 
 but then, when he saw Odette start back with a 
 feeling of alarm, he beckoned to her with his 
 hand, and, dropping his voiee to a whisper, 
 added, " Hush ! say it not — say not that I am 
 king — I am no king — I have no people — I have 
 no queen — no — no — I have no queen — no 
 queen — " and he looked around him with an 
 expression of alarm. He then pursued again 
 more sadly, " I have no children — none. They 
 told me I had children once: but it was a lie : 
 they were not mine : I am a childless man — an 
 old man — and alone." His voice, which di- 
 minished as he spoke, died away altogether with 
 these words ; and he dropped his head upon his 
 chest. 
 
 " Charles is not alone," resumed Odette, 
 taking courage ; " he has a nurse." 
 
 " Charles! I am not Charles, I say," exclaimed 
 the king raising his head abruptly, " I am
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 199 
 
 George — not he who slew the dragon — no, he 
 whom the hideous dragon enveloped in his slimy 
 folds, so crushing and so cold. My name is 
 George, I say : and my arms are a lion pierced 
 by a flaming sword." 
 
 This sad allusion to his own wretched con- 
 dition — the lion of France pierced by the sword 
 of divine wrath — called up a deep sigh from 
 Odette's bosom. 
 
 " Do not sigh," resumed Charles mournfully, 
 " the angels do not sigh : they are happy and play 
 on golden harps. I knew a fair face once, beau- 
 tiful as is thine. Yes, she was beautiful, and 
 tender, and kind. She is beautiful still, they 
 say ; but she is nought but beautiful : all the 
 rest is gone. How beautiful she was that night 
 — that night so brilliant, when in laughing mood 
 with a grotesque costume — ." 
 
 The recollection of that fatal ball, when in 
 the dress of a savage he was nearly burnt to death, 
 seemed to have crossed the maniac's mind, for he 
 suddenly burst into a wild scream — and cried, 
 " Fire ! fire ! there is fire around, about, on 
 every side. Fire ! Save the king!"
 
 200 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 He endeavoured to rise from his chair, with 
 an air of terror; but as Odette gently restrained 
 him, he again fell back, and covered his face 
 with his hands, with the words, " Too late ! too 
 late!" 
 
 Odette once more trembled violently : but 
 her moral courage was strong within her ; and 
 again kneeling, she embraced the king's knees 
 and tried to soothe him. He looked up, after 
 a time. 
 
 " Who cried, 'save the king?'" he said mourn- 
 fully ; " there is no king now. There was a 
 king once, but I cannot recollect who then wore 
 the crown. And yet it seems to me I knew him. 
 He must be dead since. Pity he should be dead, 
 for he was kind, they said, and loved his people. 
 Were he still alive, I would go kneel at his feet, 
 and cry for mercy and protection also ; for 1 am 
 very wretched — very wretched !" Again he 
 trembled in every limb. 
 
 " Is George still cold ?" resumed Odette, 
 pursuing her work of love. 
 
 " George is cold — because — because — he is 
 afraid," said the king, at last, in a whisper.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 201 
 
 " Why is George afraid ?" continued his nurse. 
 " George is a great man, and a brave." 
 
 " George is not afraid of mortal man," replied 
 the madman. " But — here — close — put up your 
 head;" and he again whispered, — "he is afraid 
 of the phantom — the phantom of the Forest of 
 Mans." 
 
 At these words he stared with so wild an ex- 
 pression of terror around him, that Odette also 
 involuntarily turned her head, as if some fearful 
 spectre were really there in a corner of the 
 room. 
 
 " No, no," still whispered Charles ; " he is 
 not there now : but he will come ; and then he 
 clasps me in his arms; and he is cold — cold — 
 cold !" 
 
 Seeing that the king shivered miserably, 
 Odette again warmed the covering, and placed 
 it more closely about the sufferer's person : but 
 he still trembled so violently with his fit of ague, 
 that she said, with the most caressing tones of 
 her sweet voice, " Let George lie down on his 
 warm bed ; I will cover him close and warm." 
 
 " No, no," exclaimed the king with violence. 
 k 3
 
 202 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " George will not lie down — he will not — he 
 will not — he will not — " Then, as Odette con- 
 tinued to soothe him like a child, he added with 
 less force, but with an accent of fear, " No, no ; 
 as soon as he is in bed the phantom comes, the 
 cold white phantom of Mans, and stalks up to 
 his side, and lies down upon him, across his 
 chest, and takes him in his arms — so cold — so 
 cold — No, George would rather die than go 
 to bed." And he pushed Odette from him. 
 
 " Well, well," said his fair nurse soothingly, 
 " George shall not lie down." 
 
 " But George would sleep," murmured the 
 king plaintively. 
 
 " Let George then sleep upon my breast," 
 said the innocent and pure maiden : and sitting 
 down upon an arm of the chair, she passed her 
 arm round the king's neck, and pulled his head 
 gently on her bosom. 
 
 " George can sleep now," continued Odette. 
 
 The poor king looked at her with an expres- 
 sion of the deepest gratitude <c Oh, yes ! 
 George can sleep now," he muttered. 
 
 "And Odette will watch over him, that no
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 203 
 
 cruel phantom comes near htm," said his nurse 
 gently. 
 
 " Odette ! Odette ! " murmured the king, 
 closing his eyes, with a smile upon his melan- 
 choly face. 
 
 A silence ensued. Some minutes afterwards 
 the outer door was opened carefully ; and the 
 physician, who entered, found his patient sleep- 
 ing, his head upon the bosom of the maiden, 
 who remained motionless, as if restraining her 
 very breathing. 
 
 Guillaume d'Hersilly moved cautiously to- 
 wards the group, took the king's hand gently 
 in his, and felt his pulse, then listened to his 
 respiration as he slept. 
 
 " Monseigneur the king," he said, with a 
 look of gratified satisfaction, " has not slept so 
 well for many a long day ; you have worked a 
 miracle, maiden." 
 
 The Constable now also entered the room ; 
 and the harsh stern man murmured again, with 
 feeling, " May God bless you, my daughter !"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BELOW AND ABOVE. 
 
 A palace and a prison. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 With that Leander stoop'd to have embraced her, 
 But from his spreading arms away she cast her, 
 And thus bespake him, Gentle youth, forbear 
 To touch the sacred garments which I wear. 
 
 Marlow. 
 
 While this scene of suffering and devoted 
 zeal was going forward in the apartment of the 
 King in the palace above, a drama of a far dif- 
 ferent description was being enacted in one of 
 the close underground dungeons below. 
 
 The Carmelite monk, with his burly acolyte, 
 had been led down, through several low damp 
 passages, to the door of a cell, by order of the 
 Constable, in pursuance of the commands of a 
 late edict, issued by Charles VI. in one of his 
 intervals of sanity, which instituted that no 
 criminal should be put to death without the 
 ghostly consolation of a confessor, " in order
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 205 
 
 that the soul might be saved while the body 
 perished." When he entered the dungeon, he 
 discovered with difficulty, by the light of a dim 
 hand-lamp, which stood upon the ground, the 
 prisoner to whom it had become his duty to 
 administer the last offices of religion. He sat 
 crouched on a heap of straw in one corner ; his 
 head was buried gloomily in his hands ; and he 
 only raised it up for a moment as the monk 
 entered, to let it fall again, with an appearance 
 rather of that sulkiness which comes over pas- 
 sionate natures when any further resistance to 
 oppression is fully impossible, than of despon- 
 dency. Another individual was also present. It 
 was a short broad-shouldered man, with a round 
 heavy, jovial-looking face, but sullen brow, 
 whose little pig-like grey eyes twinkled in the 
 light of the hand-lamp at his feet, as the monk 
 entered. This personage, who was attired in a 
 sort of tunic of red serge, which left his stunted 
 and crooked thick legs bare, excepting where 
 his coarse pointed shoes covered his feet, and 
 who wore on his head a hood of the same colour 
 and material, which descended behind over his
 
 206 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 thick neck and disproportionately broad shoul- 
 ders, was engaged in the strange occupation of 
 sharpening a long heavy sword upon a slab of 
 stone, which he had raised from a square aper- 
 ture over a species of well on one side of the 
 earthen floor of the dungeon, occasionally using 
 the water from the prisoner's pitcher to make 
 the slab serve the purpose of a whetstone. He 
 interrupted himself, however, with a grin of satis- 
 faction, upon the entrance of the new comers. 
 
 " You have kept us waiting long, Sir Priest," 
 he said, coarsely and familiarly; " we are growing 
 impatient at all this delay.'' 
 
 Whether the use of the plural pronoun by 
 this personage was intended to convey a sense 
 of authority almost regal, or to refer really to 
 the prisoner as well as himself, did not well 
 appear. 
 
 " You will have some minutes still to wait, 
 Master Cappeluche," said the smaller monk 
 with some disgust ; " I must provide for the 
 salvation of the soul before you proceed to the 
 destruction of the body." 
 
 " There was a time," muttered the headsman,
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 207 
 
 for such he was, " when we were left to do our 
 business as best pleased us, without the meddling 
 of such fanatical frocks, be they black or white ; 
 but it has pleased Monseigneur the king to 
 ordain it otherwise. They may well say the 
 poor man little knows what he does." 
 
 " Peace, man ; and leave us/' said the Car- 
 melite. 
 
 " My work is not yet done," said the heads- 
 man, doggedly. " My good sword has had too 
 much stout work to do in these stirring times, 
 not to have got a notch or two, brave blade as it 
 is ; and if you wish yon fellow to have his work 
 executed decently upon him, I must give it 
 another turn or so, to have it done to a nicety." 
 The fellow laughed. " You to your work — I 
 to mine. It is yours to baste the capon for the 
 spit, mine to cut it up. I shall not spoil your 
 roast by looking on. At all events, budge I shall 
 not, I tell you." 
 
 The monk shuddered almost imperceptibly as 
 the headsman spoke of the numerous executions 
 that had lately taken place, and cast up his eyes 
 to heaven ; at the conclusion of Cappeluche's
 
 208 THE LILY OP PAEIS. 
 
 facetious address he shrugged his shoulders, 
 without any further remonstrance, and waving 
 his hand to the man-at-arms to leave the cell, he 
 limped towards the prisoner. Brother Abdias 
 retreated to another corner of the dungeon, 
 where he yawned fearfully once or twice, as 
 though his capacious mouth were already craving 
 its evening meal ; and he told his beads to while 
 away the time. 
 
 No surprise was evinced by the Carmelite to 
 discover in the prisoner, condemned to death for 
 sedition, the form of the stout butcher whom he 
 had seen engaged in haranguing the populace in 
 the Rue St. Denis that morning, and whom he 
 himself had excited by his wiles into an act of 
 revolt against the power of Armagnac ; but, on 
 the contrary, the astonishment of poor Master 
 Lambert was no little, when admonished by the 
 monk's words, he raised his head from his 
 crouching position to listen to him, and, with 
 his eyes, already accustomed to the faint light 
 about him, saw before him the same Car- 
 melite whose ironical remarks had roused his 
 blood to an outbreak of defiance. He uttered
 
 TIIE LILY OL PARIS. 209 
 
 an exclamation, and was about to speak, when 
 the monk gave him a warning sign to be silent, 
 and knelt hastily down by his side. 
 
 The conference between the confessor and the 
 criminal lasted for some time in lowly mur- 
 mured words, unheard by the other personages 
 in the dungeon ; and Master Cappeluche, the 
 headsman, had already shown many marks of 
 impatience, putting down his sword, taking it up 
 again, to give it a finishing stroke, looking down 
 into the well-like pit left open by the removal 
 of the slab, and humming the notes of a well- 
 known jovial drinking song, when, at last, the 
 Carmelite rose and bestowed a blessing on his 
 penitent. The headsman seized his sword in 
 both hands, and flourished it in the light of the 
 lamp, while Jean Petit limped over to his stout 
 companion. 
 
 " Come what may, he must be saved," he 
 whispered into the ear of Brother Abdias ; " he 
 is the very man for our purpose — a member of 
 the guild of butchers, who are already well 
 inclined to us — one who may have much in- 
 fluence on the herd — the very picture of a leader
 
 210 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 of the people, who may be led in turn, full at 
 once of faith Find scepticism, of magnanimity 
 and revenge, of sense and ignorance, whose 
 passions may be made to overflood his scruples. 
 His death might profit us, it is true ; but his life, 
 if well managed and directed, must serve us 
 better still. He must be saved, I say." 
 
 The passive brother stretched out his arms 
 with a stolid look, as if to ask, " But how?" 
 For a moment Jean Petit sank his head, as he 
 murmured to himself, 
 
 " I have already risked too much in my per- 
 sonal dealings with the Armagnac, not to risk 
 this matter also." 
 
 " Come, your task is over, Sir Priest," said 
 Cappeluche, who had risen to his feet; "although 
 to judge by my prisoner's doubtful look, one 
 might think you had done it but badly after all. 
 Now leave me to mine ; although, maybe, you 
 might like to see a trick of my trade." 
 
 " Master Cappeluche," said the little Carmel- 
 ite, "my task is not yet over. Nay ! never make 
 such an impatient frown ; for this time you will 
 be baulked of your meal of blood." The heads-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 211 
 
 man would have spoken, but the monk con- 
 tinued, " Have you never heard the words? 
 * the white cross is pale, not pure ; the red cross 
 bloody, but strong?"' 
 
 Cappeluche darted his little pig's eyes suspi- 
 ciously upon the monk. 
 
 " What know I of your says and saws about 
 crosses or crucifixes either ?" he said, uneasily. 
 " Although I am no heathen, whatever be my 
 trade," he added hastily. 
 
 " Know you this signet at least ?" pursued 
 Jean Petit, advancing near enough to the heads- 
 man to show him a ring upon his finger, although 
 so as not to come into closer contact with a being 
 so abject. 
 
 " I have little to deal with jewels," answered 
 Cappeluche, although he looked closely upon 
 the monk's hand, which was rapidly withdrawn 
 as he approached more nearly, " except when I 
 have to exercise my sleight of hand upon noble 
 instead of churl, and thus get my pickings." 
 
 The tone of the headman, however, cautious as 
 it was, had changed: he evinced both suspicion and 
 fear. The Carmelite left him no time to reflect.
 
 212 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " It is well known," he said, "that the Duke 
 of Burgundy has allies and connexions within 
 the walls of Paris, and among its citizens. It 
 has been rumoured that he bestowed large sums 
 on persons of influence and weight to get a hold 
 upon the minds of the people, and, among 
 others, upon no less an individual than Master 
 Cappeluche, the headsman of Paris. Were such 
 a report to come to the ears of Armagnac, the 
 sword might be wrested from his hands to fall 
 on his own neck, and — " 
 
 " Hush ! " broke in Cappeluche, looking 
 round him with an alarmed and vexed air ; 
 " upon second thoughts methinks I should know 
 that jewel — let me look on it again." 
 
 The monk and the headsman bent down over 
 the lamp, but, instead of wasting their time 
 upon the ring, conversed earnestly; the words 
 " My good friend the Duke of Burgundy," re- 
 peated more than once, connected with others 
 respecting " caution," and " high office in the 
 state," might be heard to be murmured by 
 Master Cappeluche. 
 
 " Then do your will, whatever it be, Sir
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. 213 
 
 Priest, but on those conditions," said the heads- 
 man at last, drawing himself up ; he looked, 
 however, upon his prisoner with the savage look 
 of a cat that sees a mouse slip out of its paws, 
 and reach an unexpected hole of refuge. 
 
 " Brother Abdias," said Jean Petit, " give 
 hither your upper robe and cowl." 
 
 The burly monk obeyed, although he mur- 
 mured a few indistinct words about the danger 
 to the body's health when the outer man is spo- 
 liated of its covering; and Jean Petit threw it 
 to the butcher, who had now sprung up with an 
 eager look of joy at his unexpected release from 
 death, with directions to envelop himself in it, 
 so as to avoid all recognition. 
 
 " Now place yourself so that when the door 
 is opened you may stand concealed behind it," 
 said the little Carmelite again to his big- 
 associate. 
 
 Brother Abdias, who stood in his tightly fit- 
 ting under-robe, and with round swollen shaven 
 face and head, like a fat ewe just shorn, again 
 muttered a low expostulation about the danger 
 and the horrors of being a prisoner upon bread
 
 214 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 and water; — "bread and water!" — should he be 
 discovered, or left behind by chance : but the 
 coarser matter which formed the composition of 
 the stout Carmelite was so accustomed to be 
 directed by the finer essence of the master- 
 spirit — the big dead machine to be put in move- 
 ment by the small living hand — that he offered 
 no real opposition to the rapidly-conceived plans 
 of his brother monk. 
 
 " Now strike your sword on yonder stone, as 
 though a head had fallen," said Jean Petit to 
 the headsman; "you best know how." Cappe- 
 luche obeyed. " Throw down that jug of water 
 so as to deluge the earth near to the entrance of 
 the trap. It is well done." 
 
 Giving a sign to Lambert to follow him he 
 flung open the door. 
 
 " Benedicite! my brother," he said to the 
 man-at-arms without ; " a soul has passed into 
 eternity." 
 
 "You were over-hasty," said the man enter- 
 ing, to Cappeluche, " you know that I should 
 have been present." 
 
 "What! you would teach me my business!"
 
 THE LILY OF TARIS. 215 
 
 answered the headsman, sulkily; and then 
 bending over the aperture of the hideous well 
 below, with the lamp in his hand, he added, 
 " By St. Genevieve, the body still moves!" 
 
 The man-at-arms approached to look at the 
 spectacle which seemed to occupy the headsman ; 
 but at the same instant Master Cappeluche 
 cried, " Take care you slip not in the blood, 
 man, and fall in yourself," and let go the slab 
 over the aperture with a force that extinguished 
 the lamp by the current of air. Profiting by 
 this lucky service of the headsman, Jean Pe'tit 
 seized the hand of his associate and drew him 
 out of the cell, the rough voice of Cappeluche 
 in dispute with the man-at-arms, covering his 
 retreat. 
 
 With the readiness of an observing spirit, that 
 never takes a step under any circumstances 
 without reflecting upon the possible difficulties 
 of a return, the little Carmelite directed the 
 movements of his two companions in darkness, 
 until they reached the upper corridors of the 
 palace. 
 
 " Praise be to the saints, we are here unob-
 
 216 THE LILY OF PAPJS. 
 
 served," he said; " follow that passage — cross the 
 great hall — descend into the court," he added to 
 Lambert, " they will take you for a messenger 
 from me. Hie you to the church of St. Eu- 
 stace without speaking to mortal soul. Kneel 
 before the altar of the Holy Virgin in the right 
 aisle until I come to you. Come with me, Ab- 
 dias ; I will find means, if questioned, to avert 
 suspicion." 
 
 That evening in the guard-room one man-at- 
 arms remarked to another, " I am troubled in 
 my mind." 
 
 " As how ? " asked his companion. 
 
 " I swear by St. Jacques," replied the first, 
 " that only two Carmelites entered the hotel to- 
 day, and yet I saw three leave it at different times. 
 Satan himself must have been at work among 
 the white mantles — as he often is, they say." 
 
 " Or you yourself saw double, man," retorted 
 the other, with a laugh. 
 
 Followed by the passive, but distressed-look- 
 ing Brother Abdias, the lame Carmelite took 
 his way cautiously, after seeing Lambert depart, 
 into the interior of the building, finding a ready
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 217 
 
 excuse for his proceedings when interrogated, or 
 bestowing merely a simple Benedicite to those 
 who did not question him. The confidence placed 
 in the monk by Armagnac, as an agent in the 
 execution of his schemes and measures of 
 policy or espionage, was such, that none who, 
 as inmates of the Hotel des Tournelles, were 
 cognisant of the influence possessed by the 
 monk, would have ventured to doubt him, much 
 less to thwart his movements. Suspicious and 
 mistrustful as was the mind of the stern and over- 
 bearing Constable, yet so thoroughly had it been 
 entangled in the web woven around it by the little 
 active monastic spider, that, had even the 
 manoeuvres of Master Jean Petit among the 
 people come to his ears, he would still have been 
 persuaded of the fidelity of his agent, had that 
 wily individual expounded to him the nature 
 of that false policy, frequently pursued, it is 
 said, in latter years, in the same capital of Paris, 
 which teaches how the fostering of an emeute, 
 immediately suppressed, is advantageous to a 
 government by giving a needful lesson and ex- 
 citing a salutary fear. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE LILY OF TARIS. 
 
 Supported by this conviction, the Carmelite 
 proceeded in search of the maiden, who, by his 
 own instigation, in following up the advice of 
 the physician, had been placed near the person 
 of the demented king. 
 
 When Charles had been conveyed to his bed 
 in his state of deep slumber, and left to take 
 undisturbed that repose so necessary to his 
 excited and wearied brain, Odette had been 
 introduced into the chamber closely adjoining, 
 which, as long as her attendance upon the 
 monarch was considered necessary, she was to 
 call her own. 
 
 There was more of splendour in the huge 
 draperied bed, the dark sculpture, and the gold- 
 woved hangings of this apartment, than in the 
 chamber of the king himself; although here, 
 also, dust and spiders' webs, and other signs of 
 long neglect in the deserted palace, bestowed a 
 sad aspect upon all around. Odette looked upon 
 her chamber with an air of calm wonder; and then 
 a sigh for the fallen fortunes and unhappy state of 
 the once puissant monarch burst from her bosom. 
 All seemed sadness and darkness around her in
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 219 
 
 her strange destiny. Suddenly, however, the 
 sound of a gay ditty, sung by a full, youthful 
 voice, and accompanied by a musical instrument 
 played with some skill, came upon her ear with 
 a contrast which first grated almost painfully on 
 her feelings, but by degrees began to soothe. 
 The rays of a bright evening sun shone faintly 
 through the painted window ; and, giving way 
 to the spell exercised by nature's gay aspect 
 without, as well as, perhaps unconsciously to 
 herself, to that of the music, the maiden opened 
 a casement and looked forth. Her eyes fell 
 upon one of the pleasantest spots in the stiff 
 garden park that surrounded the Hotel des 
 Tournelles. The scene was bright, and at the 
 same time gaily ornamented by a group of 
 four or five young men, in all the glitter of the 
 attire of the age, who, with a collation and wine 
 cups set forth upon a carpet on the grass, had 
 thrown themselves down upon benches or on the 
 ground, to enjoy the balmy warm air of a genial 
 spring sunset. In the midst lay a handsome 
 fair-haired youth ; in his hands was the musical 
 instrument, the sound of which had attracted 
 
 T o
 
 220 THE LILY OF PAHIS. 
 
 Odette's attention; and it was his voice that 
 sang the lay — a man some years his elder bend- 
 ing over him, as if instructing him in his art. 
 
 Odette started with some surprise, for in 
 these two personages of the group, she called to 
 mind the gallants she had already, more than 
 once, observed beneath her window in the mer- 
 cer's house, and whose attentions had so sorely 
 excited Perrinet's jealousy and anger that morn- 
 ing. Her first instinctive movement, after a 
 moment's attention, was to withdraw from the 
 window; but her action was not so rapid but 
 that she had already attracted the observation of 
 the youth ; and, as she closed the casement, she 
 could not but perceive that he had let fall his 
 instrument and sprang to his feet with the air 
 of one who gazes upon an apparition of beauty. 
 A strange feeling of nervous flutter came over 
 the pure and usually calm maiden ; but, before 
 she could render to herself any account of this 
 emotion, one of the doors of her apartment 
 opened, and she started with a feeling of alarm. 
 
 It was the monk who entered. 
 
 The Carmelite now wore an air of pious
 
 THE LILY OF PALIS. 221 
 
 unction, which pervaded the whole expression of 
 his usually restless face as he bestowed his 
 blessing on Odette. 
 
 u Benedicite, my fair daughter ! " he said. " Do 
 I find thee resigned to the noble — I may say the 
 divine mission to which it has pleased Heaven 
 to call thee?" 
 
 "Father," replied Odette, "it needs not 
 resignation to support the spirit in a task which 
 is one of love as well as duty." 
 
 " It is well, my daughter," resumed Jean 
 Petit; " but, as I have before told thee in our 
 passage hither, there are still higher and diviner 
 duties to perform, in the position which thy great 
 destiny has bestowed upon thee, than the mere 
 nursing of an unfortunate. Them, also, thou 
 must not forget ; and, before I leave thee now, 
 I would expound to thee, more nearly, their 
 nature and their import." 
 
 " Father, I listen to your words, as those of 
 one who is a good and holy man," said Odette, 
 bowing her head. 
 
 " The body of our poor monarch thou mayst 
 tend ; thou mayst soothe him into better health," 
 began the Carmelite ; " but, if thy good work
 
 222 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 prosper — if his health return — if his lost mind be 
 but partially restored, it must be thine also to 
 direct the first glimmerings of that understanding. 
 It must be thine to lead that wavering mind to 
 the contemplation of those ends and aims which 
 may tend to the happiness of this our distracted 
 country of France." He paused, as if to observe 
 the impression he had made. 
 
 " Alas ! my father," answered Odette, thought- 
 fully, " such a mission were, indeed, above the 
 powers of a poor, humble, simple-minded girl 
 as I am. But, with the Divine blessing, for 
 w T hich I pray, 1 might be supported in such 
 a task by the heavenly hand that supports and 
 directs all. And, trust me, father, I love my 
 king too well, and my poor unhappy country, 
 also, not to say, if it be permitted that he listen 
 to one so poor, so much beneath him, ' Sire, you 
 have your country's good at heart ; use all your 
 energies to bring a blessing on that country.' " 
 
 " So be it," daughter, resumed the monk, 
 with a look of piety ; " but the means to effect 
 that object are difficult and complicated. Hear 
 me for a moment and try to understand me 
 well ;" and he took both her hands earnestly in
 
 TIIE LILY OF PARIS. 223 
 
 his. " The Count d'Armagnac, whom God 
 preserve, has failed, as yet, in pacifying this 
 distracted realm, and driving from our land 
 the invading English. I see, my daughter, by 
 that noble look, that thou lookest upon them as 
 our bitterest enemies. 'Tis well. Now, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, they tell us, is the enemy 
 of the king and of the realm. As such he has 
 been represented, perhaps, with somewhat of 
 the exaggeration of party feeling. But with 
 him lies the strength that might aid the good 
 cause — unhappily, it is so: and could terms be 
 made with the all-powerful duke — could the 
 king be induced to listen to the suggestion, that 
 instead of an enemy he might become a friend 
 — this is dangerous and doubtful work, I know, 
 my daughter — but if thy pure and noble mind 
 could urge the truth — Nay ! speak not yet, 
 until I have said my say ; and thou knowest 
 that my words are those of one who loves his 
 country, and would promulgate the true in- 
 terests of our holy religion — " 
 
 The monk broke off, with an air of vexation, 
 in the midst of these insinuations to the simple- 
 minded girl ; for a noise of steps and voices
 
 224 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 resounded in an anteroom ; he listened for 
 a moment, then drew back. 
 
 " We are disturbed," he said, with a frown ; 
 " I will speak further with thee on these high 
 matters. Meanwhile, not a word to living man 
 of what I have said, as you value your salvation. 
 Caution, caution, my daughter." And he hur- 
 ried from the room, without giving himself 
 time to bestow his customary blessing, leaving 
 Odette surprised and confused. 
 
 • Another source of disquietude awaited, how- 
 ever, the singularly placed maiden, who seemed 
 indeed, as she had herself expressed it, to be as 
 the kid that had been thrown into the den of lions. 
 A further door opened immediately upon the 
 disappearance of the monk ; and the fair youth 
 of the street and of the park entered somewhat 
 violently, followed by his associate; he uttered the 
 words — " Let me go, Babolin ; my eyes did not 
 deceive me. It was she ! It was she ! — the beau- 
 teous Lys d'Ange, The Lily of Paris, I tell thee." 
 Odette drew back almost to a corner of the 
 room, evidently alarmed, although she looked 
 with that calm, self-possessed air, which was so 
 peculiarly her own, upon the intruders, as if to
 
 THE LILY OF TARIS. 225 
 
 inquire the reason of their appearance. The 
 youth stood for a moment, as if struck with the 
 glory that hovered about the white apparition 
 before him, with its pale, golden hair, and gazed 
 on her with a bright steady look of uncontrolled 
 admiration. 
 
 " Said I not so ?" he repeated at last, to his 
 companion, who looked also at the maiden, with 
 unfeigned surprise, but with an admiration less 
 inspired. 
 
 " Is it possible, fair being?" said the youth, 
 advancing towards her. " You have devined my 
 ardent love, my passionate devotion, the won- 
 drous influence you have exerted on my spell- 
 bound fancy! Of your own accord you have come 
 to tell me this — to tell me, maybe, that your 
 heart sympathizes with mine. But you are 
 silent still — you shrink from me. Art thou, 
 then, really but a spirit of light — a being of the 
 air — a creation of my heated fancy ?" 
 
 " By our Lady," laughed Babolin the min- 
 strel, " it is a creature of flesh and blood ; 
 pretty flesh, and warm blood. Happy man ! " 
 
 "It is true, then," pursued the youth, awak- 
 ened out of his trance by the sneering laugh of 
 l 3
 
 226 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 his companion. " You are come, my pretty 
 charmer, to throw yourself into these loving 
 arms." And he advanced towards her. 
 
 "I understand you not, Messire," said Odette, 
 with a mixture of simplicity and pride. " I know 
 you but by having seen you twice or thrice. I am 
 not here to seek you. How should that be? 
 I am in the dwelling of our lord the king." 
 
 "Of course you are, my pretty one," said 
 Babolin. 
 
 " You are in the palace of the Tournelles, 
 sweet maid," broke in the young man. 
 
 "And in the palace," pursued the minstrel, 
 "fair damsels seek not old kings, but young 
 princes, methinks." 
 
 Odette looked with innocent surprise from 
 one to the other. 
 
 " Know you me not ?" said the youth, again, 
 somewhat embarrassed, " I am Charles, dauphin 
 of France." 
 
 " The dauphin ! " exclaimed Odette : and 
 
 then recollecting herself, she bowed her head 
 
 with an appearance at once, of respect and shame. 
 
 " Yes ; the dauphin, fair one," said the 
 
 minstrel-companion of the prince, familiarly.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 227 
 
 M A handsome young prince, if ever such there 
 was upon the earth, who has no better wish 
 than to adore you." 
 
 " Peace, Babolin !" said the dauphin ; "seest 
 thou not that she blushes — that thy words pain 
 her ?" 
 
 " A trick of them all," whispered his asso- 
 ciate ; " another lure to win the heart of the 
 young prince whose admiration has tickled her 
 little woman's heart. Fie on you, Monseigneur ; 
 she awaits you ; at her gallantly ! Have my 
 lessons profited you so ill ? 
 
 " Come, my beauteous damsel," began the 
 prince, advancing upon her, thus encouraged ; 
 " cast not down thy lovely eyes. Let their 
 light gleam on me again with but one look of 
 love. Thou comest not here for nought : and 
 if thou seekest a warm and loving heart, as 
 mine eyes have long told thee is mine, thou 
 shalt find one to cherish thee ever." 
 
 " The honey's far too fine for such a fly, that 
 flutters hither with willing wings ;" muttered 
 Babolin to himself. 
 
 "Yes; joy, love, bliss, are all in that fair
 
 228 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 form," pursued the dauphin, fired by the sight 
 of Odette's confusion, " Thou shalt make me 
 the happiest of mortals, my beautiful adored." 
 
 As, with these words, he advanced upon 
 Odette, so as to clasp her round her waist, the 
 affrighted girl, unable to speak, sprang from 
 the eager youth, and placing herself in the 
 recess of the window, waved her hand to him 
 with so much simplicity and dignity, combined 
 with an expression of respect to the dauphin 
 of France, that Charles held back, for a moment 
 abashed. A sneer and a shake of the head 
 from his licentious tutor gave him another and a 
 far less pure feeling of shame. He stood for 
 a time embarrassed, until as Babolin moved 
 towards the door, with a sign that his presence 
 was unnecessary, he once more advanced upon 
 the maiden. 
 
 "Monseigneur," exclaimed Odette, again, 
 avoiding him ; " surely this cannot be worthy 
 treatment to a defenceless maid, under the 
 shelter of this palace-roof. Pity me, Mon- 
 seigneur ; but be not thus to me. I am without 
 protection and alone."
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 229 
 
 As she spoke, however, the door opened; 
 and, as if to disprove her words of distress, 
 a majestic form slowly entered. 
 
 " The king!" exclaimed the astonished maiden. 
 
 " My father l M cried the dauphin, at the 
 same moment, with surprise. 
 
 " Odette ! Odette ! Odette!" said the maniac, 
 with supplicating voice, looking round, as if 
 seeking her he called. 
 
 Odette hurried to his feet. 
 
 " Odette !" cried the poor madman, with a 
 look of the deepest satisfaction, stretching out 
 his arms. The maiden rose, and allowed her- 
 self to be folded in them, as if she in turn now 
 found refuge in his bosom. 
 
 The wondering dauphin looked at this little 
 scene with evident marks of emotion, as well as 
 surprise. 
 
 " The old gentleman has taken a wandering 
 fit at a most inopportune season, 1 ' whispered 
 Babolin to his master ; " what can he want 
 with the girl F 
 
 For the first time, the dauphin frowned 
 angrily on his associate.
 
 CHAPTER VI I r. 
 
 THE ILLUMINATOR. 
 
 Sir, I am sure you have heard of my painting : 
 
 My name 's Bazardo. 
 
 Thomas Kyd. 
 
 A thing of impulse, and a child of song. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis a rare invention. 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of the Rue St. Martin, 
 towards the direction of the purlieus of the 
 Hotel de Ville, there still exists in Paris a street 
 called the Rue de la Verrerie, which in the 
 fifteenth century was as narrow, dark, and 
 crooked, as most of the confused thoroughfares 
 which intersected that part of the capital in 
 such a distracted labyrinth, that any attempt to 
 thread them without the clue of long experience, 
 was like the hopeless task of attempting to un- 
 ravel an entangled skein of silk. 
 
 Towards the evening of the same spring day 
 on which the events already detailed had taken 
 place, a group composed of three personages 
 occupied a large low room on the first floor of 
 one of the fantastically-constructed houses of
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 231 
 
 this street. The sun was near its setting; but, 
 although it still shone with bright haze along 
 the street, the many serpentine caprices of con- 
 struction in the houses, standing out here and 
 there at most irregular angles, cast broad 
 shadows at intervals and already filled the nar- 
 row passage with the obscurity of later evening. 
 The light that found its way into the room was 
 beginning to be faint, and scarcely any longer 
 sufficed to leave the walls of dark heavy wains- 
 coting visible to the eye. A few objects, how- 
 ever, still stood forward from the darker angle 
 of the room — the pallet-bed of the occupier 
 covered with a piece of faded tapestry — a few 
 pictures of saints and holy legends without 
 frames, of a rude and stiff style of painting, 
 placed against the w T alls, but evidently, from their 
 clean and fresh condition, treasures in the eyes 
 of their possessor — a cumbrous chest or two of 
 sculptured oak — and, above all, advancing into 
 the apartment, a large coarse dresser of common 
 wood, upon which lay little pots of colours, and 
 pots of gum, and brushes, and little papers 
 covered with thin leaves of beaten gold or silver, 
 and several manuscripts and clasped books, some 
 worn and soiled, some open, and displaying, as 
 if just retouched, bright illuminated pictures,
 
 232 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 and gaudy fantastical arabesques, such as the 
 art of the times bestowed upon the illumination 
 of missals. 
 
 This latter piece of furniture, with the 
 objects spread about it, seemed to tell that the 
 half-naked room was occupied by a painter, or 
 rather an illuminator of manuscripts of the day 
 — a follower of that gay and cheerful branch of 
 art, which was about to be so speedily lost in 
 the approaching invention of printing; and, in 
 truth, by the side of the large but low window, 
 the casement of which was open, as if to admit 
 the very last ray of light the closing day afforded, 
 sat in a high-backed chair, an old man employed 
 upon the task of copying with stiff and scru- 
 pulous art, the forms of a few bright field 
 flowers in an earthen vase before him — such 
 flowers as the season afforded — upon the mar- 
 gin of a manuscript, about which a variety 
 of fanciful arabesques had been already gaily 
 coloured. The face of the old artist, although of 
 sturdy proportions, was pale, as if with the fatigue 
 of ill-health ; his grey hair, which was brushed 
 back so as to disclose a high bold forehead, fell 
 negligently on his neck ; his dark attire was of the 
 simplicity of poverty, but scrupulously clean. 
 
 The table was placed in the large recess
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 233 
 
 formed by the window, that advanced over the 
 lower story in that strange fashion of the times, 
 which, although wonderfully picturesque, gave 
 all the houses the appearance of being about to 
 fall top-heavy into the street below ; and on 
 the side opposite to the old man, sat, on a rude 
 stool, a pale, slightly-deformed youth, whose 
 face was now, however, flushed with a slight tinge 
 of hectic red, produced, probably, by the zeal 
 with which he was pursuing his task of adding 
 colour to several large pieces of oblong paste- 
 board, which lay scattered in great quantities 
 about the table, among the other various objects 
 of the illuminator's art, some of them covered 
 with figures attired in rude imitation of the 
 court fashions of the times, some with spots of 
 different forms and of various numbers. 
 
 By the side of the youth, close by the open 
 casement, was a young girl, so bright with her 
 sparkling dark eyes and naturally-curling black 
 hair, which hung loosely about her neck, so 
 fresh with the charming colour that seemed to 
 glow beneath the clear brown skin upon her 
 rounded, dimpled cheek, that laughed in spite 
 of itself — so blithesome, springy, and full of 
 youth and life in her slim but somewhat fully 
 rounded, and yet beautifully-proportioned form,
 
 234 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 as to prove a striking contrast to the two pale 
 sickly-looking individuals near her — the one, 
 the old man, who seemed worn by privation and 
 malady, so as to be near the grave — the other, 
 the youth, only just reaching manhood's years, 
 but apparently already as worn and weary of 
 life. The girl alone, excepting the few gay 
 field flowers on the table, shed an air of living 
 brightness and joyousness upon the scene, as she 
 sat upon a very low stool, in her tight dark 
 bodice, with one tiny foot tenderly nursed 
 under the hamstring of the other taper leg, that 
 peeped treacherously from beneath her full red 
 petticoat, and employed her pretty hands in 
 sewing upon a veil, in neat embroidery, gold 
 threads, after a pattern, traced probably by the 
 old artist, that lay on her elevated knee. She 
 seemed the type of the Parisian grisette of the 
 middle ages, such as it has been handed down in 
 living and animated tradition to the present day. 
 A silence prevailed throughout the room, of 
 which the pretty damsel seemed somewhat im- 
 patient ; for, from time to time, she hummed a 
 few notes of a popular lay to herself, then 
 pursed up her mouth as if violently inclined to 
 whistle, then shook her dark locks pettishly, 
 and stuck out her under-lip as if disposed to
 
 THE LILY OF TALIS. 235 
 
 be sulky, for but one short moment. Now and 
 then she looked out of the corners of her eyes 
 at the pale, homely, melancholy face of the 
 young man beside her — and the look in general 
 was long and lingering — and then a half-sigh, 
 quickly checked, as if that breast was never 
 made for sighing, would escape her lips — and 
 then she would slightly shake her head, and 
 almost imperceptibly shrug her shoulders, and 
 pat, somewhat impatiently, the ground with the 
 heel of the foot that rested on it ; and then she 
 would give a sudden glance at the old man, and 
 grow grave at once, and work away with re- 
 doubled zeal at her embroidery. 
 
 11 Is it that my poor old eyes are dim? " said the 
 old artist at last, breaking off from his work, 
 and throwing himself back in his chair; "or 
 does the last light really fade from the sky, like 
 the last glow of life's blood from an old man's 
 frame? Yes, darkness comes — must come — 
 will come — darkness, utter darkness." 
 
 The girl started, and looked up with a melan- 
 choly wistful look at the painter; but then, 
 shaking her head, as if to shake off all dismal 
 thoughts, and assuming a more cheerful expres- 
 sion, she said — • 
 
 " The day is fading, father, it is true ; and it
 
 236 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 is time that you should have repose. We shall 
 have a bright sun and a cheerful air to-morrow 
 to work by." 
 
 " God grant it to thee, my child," replied the 
 father, with a sigh of pain. 
 
 " The fair spring-tide shall bring fresh health 
 and vigour to thee also, my father," said the 
 daughter, looking at him hopefully. 
 
 The old man did not answer; but after a 
 pause, during which the youth also looked 
 anxiously at him, and then let fall his eyes im- 
 mediately upon his work again, he bid his 
 daughter light their poor lamp. 
 
 " Provided you work no more to-night, 
 father," she said in answer to this order ; " give 
 me that promise, and I do your bidding. If 
 not " and she threatened him with her finger. 
 
 " Go light the lamp, Lyonelle. Thou 
 knowest it is I do thy bidding, ever," said the 
 artist with a faint smile; " do I not allow thee 
 to beat the dust from my poor garments and 
 comb my scanty locks, as if I cared for such 
 adornments, and compel me to other matters 
 wearying to my mind ?" 
 
 " Yes, and wash your face, father," continued 
 the saucy girl, rising with a laugh ; " and clean 
 your hands, which you would adorn with colours
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. 237 
 
 as various as on your gayest arabesque, did 
 I not naughtily purge away the needless illumin- 
 ation of your fingers; and cook your daily meals; 
 ay, and convey the very morsels to your 
 mouth, which, otherwise, you would forget to 
 do yourself, so absorbed are you in your art." 
 
 "Thou seest," said the father again, with an 
 air of conviction, "that I do thy bidding in all 
 things." 
 
 Lyonelle laughed again most saucily at this 
 interpretation of her father's passive submission 
 to her will in matters of domestic arrangement. 
 
 " And to bear you company, my father," she 
 resumed, " I will not even work any longer on 
 the veil which is to bring me in my own little 
 earnings, thanks to the new and fanciful devices 
 which none know how to trace like you. It is 
 you are the cause, my father, that I far excel 
 the other better-known sisters in the art of 
 embroidery ; but thanks to your patterns, not 
 to my workmanship." 
 
 " Thou hast fairy fingers, nevertheless," said 
 the old man, pulling the veil left on the stool 
 towards him ; M and thou art a good girl — thou, 
 who art now the only child of my bosom." 
 
 The old artist again heaved a sigh ; and it was 
 more, it seemed, to divert his thoughts, than to
 
 238 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 scold him for his action, that the daughter 
 hastily exclaimed : " It is well I have not long 
 ago washed your paws, father bear, or you had 
 limned a picture on that fair veil that had not 
 added to its beauty, despite your art. Holy 
 Virgin ! " she continued to the young man, over 
 whose shoulder she had been peeping during 
 the last words ; " why, Master Yvon ! what 
 are you doing to the dame on whom you are 
 bestowing colour ? " 
 
 " You ask what I am doing," echoed the 
 kloarek, looking up in some confusion, while 
 he endeavoured to hide with his left hand the 
 piece of pasteboard he was colouring. 
 
 " Yes, what you are doing," said Lyonelle 
 again leaning over him to remove his unwilling 
 hand. " What mean those long fair tresses you 
 have painted on her shoulders — and those large 
 blue eyes, and that lily in her bosom ? Where 
 have you found them ? They exist not in the 
 illumination of my father, from which you copy. 
 By my truth, father, he has not limned them so 
 ill ! Whither has your fancy been straying, you 
 most rebellious of apprentices in the goodly art ? " 
 
 " My fancy ? indeed I do not know," stam- 
 mered Yvon, now colouring over his whole face 
 and temples, and hanging down his head.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 239 
 
 " Those features grew beneath my pencil, I 
 cannot well tell how. I did not mean — I would 
 not — indeed I will efface them, if Master 
 Jacquemin will." 
 
 " Efface them, indeed, and spoil the good 
 paper thus," replied Lyonelle, putting out her 
 full under lip with an air of pettishness. " Had 
 you a mind to let your fancy stray, methinks 
 black locks and dark e}^es had as well become 
 the good dame as those golden tresses and ceru- 
 lean pupils. But you have no eye for the 
 art, Master Yvon ; although, to say the truth 
 — there take away your hand again ! — it is not 
 ill-fancied. But yet you would do well to look 
 more sharply at the doings of your truant pupil, 
 father." 
 
 With these words Lyonelle shrugged her 
 shoulders a little pettishly, and hurried away 
 into an inner chamber to prepare the lamp ; but 
 not without giving a last look at the pale face 
 of the kloarek as she left the room — a look so 
 full of fond affection that, had not Yvon been 
 again absorbed in the picture before him, even 
 his diffidence must have read in it more than 
 the maiden probably meant to reveal. But that 
 fond look was lost. 
 
 "Of what does Lyonelle speak?" said the
 
 240 THE LILY OF PARIS, 
 
 old artist, leaning across the table. " Let me 
 see what thou hast limned, good youth." 
 
 It was again with a deep blush that poor Yvon 
 handed his piece of pasteboard to the old man. 
 
 " In truth," said the illuminator, rising, and 
 holding the female figure to the light of the 
 open window, "thou hast more of the divine art 
 within thee than I had fancied, Master Yvon. 
 When thou profFeredst me thy services to colour 
 some of the pieces of the invention I have 
 fancied, I knew not that so much of the hea- 
 venly fire lurked within thee. But thou art a 
 poet, I trow; and poesy and painting are sister 
 arts. Who could be poet without an artist's 
 eye for nature's beauties — who painter, lurked 
 not a spark of poetry in his bosom ? " 
 
 " Nay ! look not on it too closely, good Master 
 Jacquemin," said Yvon, much embarrassed. "It 
 was but a foolish fancy ; Mistress Lyonelle was 
 right ; but if you have found," he added 
 hastily, as if to turn the artist's attention from 
 his work — " if you imagine that but a gleam of 
 the true artist's fire is hidden in my breast, too 
 happy am I can it but be bestowed to aid you 
 in your labours. How could I otherwise show 
 my gratitude, my heart-felt gratitude, for your 
 permission to the poor kloarek to occupy that
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 241 
 
 small chamber of your apartment where the 
 houseless wanderer found a shelter for his head, 
 when you have too refused all remuneration 
 because you knew him needy, and even shared 
 your own food with him ? How otherwise testify 
 my thankfulness, than by aiding you to colour 
 these fanciful pictures which you are so anxious 
 to complete, when your own strength fails you, 
 and the labour wearies your health ? Glad I am 
 indeed, and happy, as the poor stump must be, 
 however mean and broken, that can afford a 
 resting-place to the bright, clustering ivy ! " 
 
 " Say not too much, my son," replied the old 
 man kindly ; " the recommendation of Master 
 Perrinet, the armourer, sufficed: and, in truth, 
 if thou canst content thee with that poor hole — for 
 chamber it is not — so far too from the colleges 
 of your university and your professor's halls — " 
 
 " Content ! Why Master Jacquemin, your 
 chamber is as a palace to the poor homeless 
 kloarek/' broke in Yvon eagerly. " And trust 
 me, my limbs faint not, weak being as I may be, 
 when I can go to sit at the feet of those in- 
 structors, from whose lips I may gather learning, 
 that most precious boon to mortal man — that 
 dew of heaven — that sunny beam to the droop- 
 ing flower." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Thou art a good youth, and a grateful, it is 
 true," said the artist, patting the student's head, 
 and then going back to his chair: " and thou 
 knowest that we have learnt to love thee for 
 thy many excellences, both myself and my 
 naughty saucy Lyonelle, who comes back in 
 right time to tell thee so, herself." 
 
 " Oh love — love, father ; you rattle on as 
 foolishly as if your own daughter had spoken and 
 not your grave self," said Lyonelle, entering with 
 the lamp and putting it on the table. " We 
 women do not love in such a hurry" — but a blush 
 at the same time covered her face. Or was it 
 only the glow of the lamp that flashed across it? 
 No one seemed disposed to notice this important 
 question. " But yet you know I like him well — 
 yes, very well — because, you see, he is sufferer too ; 
 and when his health is weak, he puts me in mind 
 of you, my father ; and I like him, by some sort 
 of sympathy, I suppose : that's all — that's all — " 
 
 Yvon, in spite of this qualifying sentence, 
 looked up to her with a grateful brotherly look: 
 but still that air of fraternal gratitude did not, 
 somehow, seem to please the maiden ; for she 
 snatched away the little hand he attempted to 
 take, somewhat tetchily, and added hastily, 
 " Although it is all one to him whether I like
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 243 
 
 him or not : that's very clear. Nay ! never pro- 
 test, Master Yvon. We understand each other 
 perfectly. You care not for women's liking, I 
 know ; although, perhaps, did it come from 
 senseless blue eyes, set off by pale colourless fair 
 hair, you might care better for it, for aught I 
 know. Oh ! love, father, love ! 'twixt love and 
 liking is a wide cleft, that a maiden does not 
 think of filling up so quickly." 
 
 As she thus spoke, Lyonelle bustled about, 
 arranging or rather disarranging the objects on 
 the table ; and, upon her father's expostulation, 
 declared that she was going to prepare for their 
 evening meal, in which " Master Yvon, if there 
 were no blue eyes to attract him elsewhere, 
 might participate ;" and now and then she gave 
 a glance at the pale youth out of the corner of 
 her eyes : but he, after just such a look as that 
 which liad accompanied his exclamation of the 
 morning, " Who, indeed, should love the poor 
 kloarek?" had sunk his head between his high 
 shoulders, and buried his face in his hands; and so 
 Mistress Lyonelle only gave another little sigh, 
 and bustled on in her task of disturbing the table. 
 
 " With thy thoughts full of loves and likings, 
 silly girl," said the illuminator, following her 
 pretty figure as it glided here and there, with 
 m 2
 
 214 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 the satisfaction of a father's eye, mingled with the 
 artist's pleasure in gazing on a form of beauty, 
 i( as if thou were not still a child, who can know 
 hut of lovings and likings by hearsay' 1 — Lyon- 
 elle arched her pencilled dark brows and tossed 
 her head with disdain at this suggestion of her 
 father — " thou art mixing together sadly my 
 little devices — my cards, as I call them — the 
 coloured with those still uncoloured — one pack 
 already duly arranged with another. "With all 
 thy sharpness and thy alertness, thou art a sad 
 marplot and a most tyrannical child to thy 
 poor father/' 
 
 " Nay ! if Master Yvon think it better to 
 hide his eyes than to look this way, and will 
 not aid me, how should I know whether I do 
 well or ill?" answered Lyonelle poutingly. 
 
 Yvon started up from his posture, and en- 
 deavoured to aid the maiden : but she pushed 
 him on one side, and began herself to arrange 
 the disturbed packets of pasteboard squares. 
 
 " Look you now," she said, " if the awkward 
 youth has not coloured the trefoil clover-leaves 
 red and the hearts black : perhaps he thinks that 
 blood-red leaves and black hearts are more fitting 1 
 for the battle-field which your cards are to repre- 
 sent, father."
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 245 
 
 The old artist raised himself from his chair 
 in some alarm ; but Lyonelle burst into a laugh. 
 
 " I did but jest, father," she said, " in order 
 fully to awaken the lazy loon, who looks as if 
 he were still wandering in a dream." 
 
 u Foolish girl ! " said the old man sinking back. 
 " Yes," he continued, seemingly following a train 
 of thought," the battle-field — the game of knightly 
 combat — the battle — the fight — virtue — valour 
 — honour — to represent such glorious sports and 
 deeds should my cards be used. Thou mayst 
 little think, Yvon, my boy," he pursued, address- 
 ing the kloarek, " that the poor shattered artist 
 thou seest before thee, was a soldier once — ay ! 
 and one who failed not in boldness, and did some 
 good service : the battle-field was my glory and 
 delight. But, when wounded, I was once har- 
 boured in a monastery, and missal-books were 
 placed within my hand ; a new light seemed 
 suddenly to dawn upon me. 1 was restless and 
 unhappy, until I could myself try to imitate the 
 glowing colours and the beauteous forms of those 
 lovely margins. As soon as possible I threw 
 the strong sword aside, and took the tiny pencil 
 into my rough hands. It was a new life to me. 
 But that life was death. The more I prospered 
 in my art, the more frail became the health of
 
 246 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 one used to violent exercise in the field : and 
 sometimes, too, I even regretted my glorious 
 days in the midst of my dreams of beauty. But 
 then, my Agnes, my sainted wife, whom God 
 took away from me too soon, had borne me a 
 boy — a sturdy boy : and in him I hoped to live 
 again, the soldier : and, to while away his child- 
 hood's lonely hours, I invented for him this game 
 of" pictures, to teach him such thoughts of knightly 
 deeds upon the battle-field as the artist-soldier 
 best could teach. But he too — my poor little 
 Gilbert — withered like his mother, and died : 
 'tis true, my beauteous Lyonelle remains to glad 
 the poor widowed father's heart — yes ! look not 
 so sad, my girl, when I thus speak of the lost 
 ones — I loved them well. And then, I could 
 not bear to see those pictures I had painted for 
 my boy. But lately the thought has come across 
 me, and will not be removed, that these poor 
 pictures might amuse our lord the king — who 
 although a child, they say, in reason now, has 
 once been a mighty warrior himself, and showed 
 a brave spirit. I will try whether I cannot get 
 some parcels of my cards conveyed into the 
 poor monarch's hands. I myself am now too 
 old and too infirm to try my chance : but still I 
 hope. Means may be devised ; and my last
 
 THE LILY OF TILLS. 247 
 
 mission on earth would be fulfilled, could these 
 cards afford amusement and give better thoughts 
 perhaps to our poor suffering king. Oh ! I feel," 
 lie continued, lifting himself up in his chair 
 with animation, " that this poor pastime must 
 do good, and perhaps, by aiding the doctor's art, 
 help to restore his reason, and thus bring a 
 blessing on the world." 
 
 A blessing on the world ! Little did poor 
 Jacquemin Gringonneur, the illuminator, ima- 
 gine when, in the moments of a father's tender- 
 ness he first invented the pastime of "cards" — 
 when, in the hope of amusing the sad hours of 
 a maniac king, he put his fanciful project in 
 execution, — that he was about to entail upon 
 mankind a bitter curse, — that the fate of those 
 pieces of pasteboard would be, hereafter, to 
 disperse about the world a new amount of 
 misery, and treachery, and avarice, and crime ; 
 and form so great an episode in the history 
 of social vice for long long ages after his 
 kindly heart had rotted in the tomb. Poor 
 Jacquemin Gringonneur ! he thought to work a 
 blessing ! 
 
 "Look thee, my good youth/' pursued the 
 illuminator, after a pause, " I will explain to 
 thee more fully the devices I have imagined ;
 
 248 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 thy poetic mind will comprehend them better 
 perhaps than yon saucy girl's." 
 
 Lyonelle tossed her head again, wiped away 
 in secret a few tears which had gathered in her 
 eyes at her father's recital, and hurried away 
 upon her household duties. 
 
 Yvon rose, and bent over the high-backed 
 chair of the old artist, who, taking up a sorted 
 packet of his cards, began to turn them over with 
 some satisfaction. 
 
 " There may be many who at first view," he 
 continued, " might regard my poor pastime as 
 fitting only to the minds of children : but those 
 who will seek in it a deeper meaning, may find 
 a signification in every figure, and an allegorical 
 sense in each different form of spot. They con- 
 stitute altogether an emblematic image, not only 
 of the art of war, but of sound government. 
 See ! I have divided my devices into four parts. 
 These hearts represent the courage and valour 
 of the captains and soldiers in the time of war ; 
 these lozenge-shaped forms, which I have also 
 coloured red, I have derived from those flat 
 short bolts, or quarrels, shot from arblasts ; they 
 denote the weapons of attack in battle. The 
 pike-heads, thou mayst remark, are such as our 
 infantry bear upon their halberd-ends, and figure
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 249 
 
 forth the weapons of defence.* These trefoil 
 clover leaves," pursued the old artist, "are in- 
 tended to remind the player of the pastime, 
 that a good general should never pitch his camp 
 in a field where forage may be wanting to his 
 army.f To the four parties I have given four 
 kings, as leaders," continued the old man in ex- 
 planation, " in order to demonstrate that, how- 
 ever brave and numerous the troops may be, it 
 is necessary, in order to ensure their victory, lo 
 have at their head prudent, valiant, and expe- 
 rienced leaders. And see, I have bestowed upon 
 them the names of renowned chiefs in ancient his- 
 tory ; David, Alexander, Ca?sar and Charlemagne. 
 But brave generals need bold captains also to 
 execute their orders ; and thus I have given to 
 them varlets, or nobles of inferior rank, to serve 
 beneath them. Behold ! there are Lancelot and 
 Ogier, the great captains of Charlemagne, and 
 Renaud, Lord of Coucy, and Hector of Galard, 
 bold and knightly gentlemen of our days, under 
 
 * In England the fancy of Jacquemin Gringonneur was not 
 comprehended in after years ; and these same spots on the 
 cards were there denominated " spades," from a fancied resem- 
 blance to such instruments of labour, but perhaps still with 
 the same idea of warlike defence, seeing the use of spades in 
 the formation of entrenchments. 
 
 t The resemblance of these spots to knotted club heads 
 induced them afterwards in England to be denominated 
 " clubs.'' 
 
 li 3
 
 250 THE LILT OF PARIS. 
 
 whose orders I myself have served. But women 
 have, throughout all history, also played their 
 part in the councils, if not in the active enter- 
 prise of war ; and thus each king has his favou- 
 rite dame." 
 
 "But they have no names, Master Jacquemin," 
 said the kloarek, taking an intense interest in 
 the artist's explanation. " Shall we not bestow on 
 them such designations as may ennoble the great 
 deeds of the bold female spirits of antiquity ?" 
 
 " No, boy," said the old artist, with a smile. 
 " Perhaps it is well to let them bear no other 
 names than those their lords and masters wear ; 
 without disrespect to the fair sex, I would indi- 
 cate thereby that the wife is nothing in herself, 
 and derives from her husband alone her force 
 and splendour. Let others give them names, as 
 they will, according to the fancies of their 
 hearts. It is well," he added, " that my saucy 
 Lyonelle is not here ; or her poor father might 
 chance to get a reprimand for what he says." 
 
 Yvon shook his head at this reasoning of 
 Master Jacquemin, so common to the age, but 
 offered no expostulation. The artist continued, 
 
 " The various spots in each several packet 
 represent the troops of smaller or lesser force, 
 and common soldiers, obeying the orders of 
 the kings and captains. To delineate the rabble
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 251 
 
 would have occupied too much mis-spent time. 
 But, look thee here ! This single spot, so simple 
 in appearance, that is the master of them all." 
 
 " As how ? M asked Yvon, anxiously. 
 
 "It shall figure forth the force of money, which 
 is the true strength and nerve of war, and which 
 thus obtains the greatest influence over all other 
 cards, even the kings themselves ; for if a king 
 possess it not to back his enterprise, he may be 
 beaten by a varlet who has it in his power; and 
 thus I have named that single spot the ' as,' 
 which your good learning, Master Student, will 
 tell you is derived from the Latin tongue, and 
 signifieth money." 
 
 Yvon acquiesced, smiling gently at this little 
 piece of pedantry in the soldier-artist. 
 
 " Thou seest thus," pursued Jacquemin Grin- 
 gonneur with animation, " that my invention is 
 not the mere pastime of a child, without sense 
 or meaning. It bears upon it a signification 
 symbolical, allegorical, political, ay ! and even 
 historical if thou will'st. Imagine to thyself also 
 the many devices that may be employed to make 
 the movements of my figures, in different hands, 
 subservient to every species of amusement and 
 instruction. And could they but find interest 
 and favour in the eyes of our poor king, a pre- 
 sentiment tells me that they might charm and
 
 252 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 soothe Lis wearied spirit. And the presenti- 
 ments of an old man deceive not like those of 
 youth ; the more his bodily substance fails him as 
 he draws nearer and nearer the tomb, the more 
 clearly sees his mind's eye. But enough of this, 
 for see. Lyonelle comes: and we must not sadden 
 her with such talk," he added, in a low voice. 
 
 Yvon left the back of the old man's chair to 
 assist Lyonelle in her task of setting out the 
 scanty evening meal : and now the capricious 
 girl permitted him to aid her, bantering him 
 only for his awkwardness, which she persisted 
 arose from the abstraction of his thoughts in 
 dreaming of blue eyes ; and Yvon blushed 
 again, and was more awkward than ever. 
 
 The little group in the artist's room sat 
 already at their humble repast, when a stum- 
 bling step was heard upon the dark gallery 
 without, and the name of Yvon was pronounced 
 in tones of impatience : before the kloarek could 
 rise to obey the summons of the well-known 
 voice of Perrinet Leclerc, the door opened; and 
 the young armourer himself appeared. 
 
 After greeting the artist and his pretty 
 daughter, the young man beckoned to Yvon. 
 
 " I seek thee!" he said, with some wildness 
 of manner. " Come, — Master Jacquemin can 
 spare thee, methinks."
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 253 
 
 " Master Jacquemin may spare him," replied 
 Lyonelle, saucily ; " but I will not answer for 
 it that Master Jacquemin's daughter will : the 
 poor youth must enjoy his evening meal." And 
 Lyonelle looked from the strong picturesque 
 figure of the young armourer, which was not 
 without its manly beauty, to the form of the 
 poor sickly kloarek, with a look of satisfac- 
 tion, which seemed to indicate that comeliness 
 did not always ensure love to woman's heart, 
 by pleasing woman's eye, and that the strongest 
 affection might be based on other motives, were 
 the foremost of them only pity. That " pity 
 is akin to love," was not an axiom known to 
 Lyonelle, however much her heart might have 
 repeated it: but evidently poor Yvon lost 
 nothing by the comparison with his w^ell-built 
 comely friend. 
 
 In spite of Lyonelle's words, however, 
 Yvon rose from table to obey his friend's be- 
 hest; and, taking his flat cap, he prepared to 
 follow him. 
 
 "Pray go, Master Yvon, pray go!" said 
 Lyonelle, pettishly ; " a friend's word is more 
 to you than a maiden's wishes." 
 
 Yvon attempted to remonstrate; but Lyon- 
 elle refused his proffered hand, and turned her 
 back upon him. When he left the room,
 
 254 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 following Perrinet, who, after a few words to 
 the old artist, and a somewhat disdainful look 
 at the works of art lying around, had gone for- 
 ward, she hastily turned, however, and said 
 with the kindest tone, " Good night, Yvon, and 
 sweet dreams to you." 
 
 "When Perrinet reached the street, he stag- 
 gered back against the stone pillar of the Gothic 
 archway of the house, and said not a word. 
 
 " Thou hast sought me, friend," said the 
 kloarek, with some surprise. 
 
 "Ay," replied Perrinet starting up. " I need 
 thee; for I need a friendly bosom into which 
 to pour my anguish. Thou mayst aid me also 
 to find out her whereabouts — that maiden, 
 thou knowest, of my ardent love, to whom 1 
 spoke to thee but this morning — the angel of 
 my worship — Heaven forgive me, if I blaspheme 
 — that maiden, Yvon ! " 
 
 " Lys d'Ange!" exclaimed the student in 
 almost breathless tone. 
 
 " She is gone — disappeared— ravished from 
 me !" cried the young armourer, violently. 
 
 " Gone ! whither ?" gasped forth poor Yvon. 
 
 " I know not. It is that which causes all my 
 anguish." And Perrinet hastily detailed the 
 circumstances of mystery under which Odette 
 had been conveyed from the mercer's house, his
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 255 
 
 interview with the Abbess, and its consequences. 
 " I have sought my father ; and I have seen 
 him," he continued ; " but from him I have 
 been able to learn nothing. Perhaps, he knew 
 nothing ; 'twould seem so. But why this mys- 
 terious command to him to attend the Abbess 
 at such a moment ? Oh ! my head turns ; and 
 my heart beats so wildly in my bosom that 
 I walk as one drunken with wine. If I be 
 drunken, in truth it is with rage. Yvon, my 
 friend, aid me to seek her. Now canst thou 
 do me service. 1 cannot live without her ! 
 I cannot exist, and be ignorant of her fate. 
 How thou shouldst try to find her I know not, 
 myself. But thy heart is calm ; thy head is 
 cool." Poor Yvon ! Aw heart calm! "Devise 
 means. Canst thou not ? The Lady Abbess 
 let fall words which connected the fate of 
 Odette with the Constable's commands. Prowl 
 round the hotel of Armagnac — question — spy. 
 Armagnac ! Armagnac ! can it be ? can he have 
 dared to cast an eye of lust upon that purest of 
 maidens. No, no; the Lady Abbess had not 
 done it. And yet, why this mystery ? I know 
 not what I say. But yet I know that already 
 in my heart I could almost find the wish to cry, 
 1 Down with Armagnac !' as those foolish railers
 
 256 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 of this morning. I think I am mad, Yvon. 
 But thou dost not speak/' 
 
 Yvon had stood like one thunderstruck; his 
 head fallen between his shoulders, overpowered 
 by Perrinet's hasty and impatient communication. 
 To his poor heart, also, were the vague fears of 
 the young armourer conveyed, with as great, 
 although less demonstrative violence. He started 
 at Perrinet's last words, and promised, in falter- 
 ing voice, his aid to learn the whereabouts of 
 the fair maiden. 
 
 " To-morrow, watch and spy, then. To-night 
 it would be vain ; the curfew is already past," 
 resumed Perrinet. " I have to meet one whose 
 vague words of mystery seemed to promise me 
 aid, upon the island of the city behind the 
 church of Notre Dame ; and thither I go." 
 
 "But it is dangerous alone at night, to 
 wander in those parts," urged Yvon. 
 
 " I have my cutlass," replied Perrinet, " and 
 where Odette is concerned I fear nor man nor 
 devil. Until to-morrow, adieu."" 
 
 Perrinet darted down the lane in the direc- 
 tion of the Place de Greve ; the kloarek re- 
 mained lost in thought for a moment; and then, 
 seeming to take a sudden resolution, he rapidly 
 followed his friend.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE HOVEL OF THE SORCERESS. 
 
 In night all creatures sleep, 
 
 Only the malcontent, that 'gainst his fate 
 
 Repines and quarrels. 
 
 Mabstok. 
 
 I say, my Lord can such a subtilty. 
 But all his craft ye must not wot of me ; 
 And somewhat help I yet to his working. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 It is during the calm silence of the night that 
 the dreaming wanderer is best able to evoke 
 the recollections of the past, in the deserted 
 streets of a great capital. It is during these dark 
 hours, when all is vague shadow, that the 
 imagination emancipates itself from the intrusive 
 claims of the senses, and best calls memory to its 
 aid to reconstruct, with its powers of enchant- 
 ment, all that the hand of time and man have 
 long since effaced, and conjure up before it the 
 apparitions of history. And, certainly, there is 
 no theatre more favourable to resuscitation of 
 these dramas of gone-by times than the old 
 streets of Paris — those faded decorations of a 
 stage so stirringly filled, for long generations, by
 
 258 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 scenes of the most excited human passions, and 
 trod by the actors in dark history, the remem- 
 brance of whose deeds has been buried beneath 
 the dust and ashes of the ruins that have fallen, 
 to be reconstructed as arenas for fresh passions 
 as tumultuous. It is then that the gloom appears 
 to give the sombre colouring of age to the 
 edifices around, and allows the fancy to people 
 those dwellings once more with the habits, feel- 
 ings, and doings of those who have formerly 
 played their parts in them. Among the streets 
 of the city and older quarters of Paris, by night, 
 the mind easily yields to this unspeakable charm 
 of resuscitation, and is quickly filled with dreams 
 of palpitating interest. Little is wanting to 
 complete the creations of the imagination. The 
 sonorous and measured step of the patrol, clank- 
 ing through a neighbouring street, may be 
 fancied to be the march of the archers of the city 
 guard, or the provost's men-at-arms : the noisy 
 murmur wafted along the air, from the distant 
 Quartier Latin — still the seat of the University 
 and the residence of the students on the other 
 side of the Seine — may be supposed to be a tumult 
 of the rebellious scholars of another age, making 
 a night expedition to the Pre aux Clercs, in 
 ragged surcot and mantle, rapier in hand and
 
 THE LILY OF PABIS. 259 
 
 blasphemy in mouth, to rob the fishponds of 
 Monseigneur the abbot of St. Germain. The 
 distant cries coming, now and then, from the 
 older streets of the city, become the shouts of 
 truands, ribands, and folles ji lies, who are return- 
 ing to their holes in that ulcer of corruption upon 
 the fair bosom of the capital in the middle ages, 
 the Cour des Miracles. Perhaps there is no city 
 in the world where the dreamer of the romance of 
 history can allow his fancy to roam more clearly 
 and more freely than in the capital of France. 
 
 It was in the midst of all the real accessories 
 of such a night-scene as the imagination of a 
 wanderer in the old streets of Paris might con- 
 jure up, that Yvon, the kloarek, after a moment's 
 reflection, started off, along the tortuous windings 
 of the Rue de la Terrene, in pursuit of his 
 friend. Yvon, even in the midst of the stunning 
 intelligence he had just heard, which so deeply 
 affected his own heart, had reflected that the 
 streets through which Perrinet must pass, in 
 order to reach the place he had hastily named, 
 bore a not unmerited reputation for danger to 
 those who were bold enough to attempt to 
 thread them after nightfall. The misery and 
 want, as well as the disordered state of the 
 capital, occasioned by all the oppressions of war
 
 260 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 and of party conflict, had added greatly to the 
 increase of that dangerous population of thieves, 
 vagabonds, and malefactors of every description, 
 that, in spite of the efforts of Monseigneur the 
 Provost — which, latterly, moreover, had been 
 applied more to the persecution of the murmurers 
 suspected of favouring the Burgundian party, as 
 disturbers of the public peace, than to the sup- 
 pression of such evil characters — formed the 
 terror and dismay of all the more well-doing 
 citizens: and Yvon was determined that his 
 friend and benefactor should not stand in need of 
 the assistance of a friendly arm, weak as it might 
 be, should any peril threaten him. However 
 frail the person of the poor kloarek, his heart 
 was strong and true in such a cause ; and he 
 counted upon the energy of this heart, in his 
 friend's defence, in case of need. At least, if he 
 could not die with him, he could die for him ; 
 and, to his romantic disposition, such a thought 
 sufficed to determine his actions. He clasped 
 the stout stick which was his only defensive 
 weapon — for Yvon was a peaceful and obedient 
 youth ; and, even had his disposition been more 
 tumultuous, he would have considered it wrong- 
 ful to have worn a rapier or other weapon of 
 offence, since it had pleased Monseigneur the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 261 
 
 Constable to issue an edict against the bearing 
 of arms, although the prohibition was generally 
 disdained and evaded by the majority of the stu- 
 dents of the university — and, with a short prayer 
 to our Lady, in which the vision of Odette was 
 strangely mingled in his thoughts with the form 
 of the Virgin Mother, he went on. 
 
 The curfew had long since sounded from the 
 parish church of St. Merry ; and the night 
 promised to be dark. The growing moon was 
 covered by drifting clouds ; and the obscurity of 
 the tortuous street was such, that as Yvon paced 
 hastily forwards, with a vigour of which his frail 
 limbs seemed scarcely capable, he thought for 
 some time that he had lost sight of his friend; 
 at last, as he turned down the street leading to 
 the Place de Greve, and the river's side, he saw 
 the form of Perrinet standing with folded arms 
 before the full light of a fire of tow soaked in 
 oil, which burned before the statue of the Holy 
 Virgin, at the street angle. The young ar- 
 mourer appeared irresolute whether he should 
 put his design in execution. Yvon drew back 
 into the shade, to avoid being seen, as if afraid 
 of being chidden for his generous design ; but, 
 after a short hesitation, Perrinet seemed to have 
 resolved upon the pursuance of his first intent:
 
 262 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 he bared his head to the night air, and hurried 
 on towards the river. Yvon followed. He th\is 
 traversed in pursuit the Place de Greve, that, 
 (with its fantastic houses, the dentelated roofs of 
 which stood out in dark relief against the dim 
 sky — its pillared house, which served at that 
 age as Town Hall, Court of Justice, and Arse- 
 nal — and its twin objects of horror, the triangular 
 gibbet of stone, and the gloomy tower of the 
 pillory,) looked ghastly enough to fright a less 
 zealous heart from following up its purpose. 
 Along the muddy quay, flanked on one side by 
 the dun dirty waters of the Seine, on the other 
 by a row of miserable hovels, Yvon followed 
 still the form before him, and crossed the bridge 
 of Notre Dame, then newly erected in the year 
 1413, with its long line of continuous sculptured 
 gable-ends of houses, that gave the bridge the 
 appearance of a street on land; the noise of 
 the splashing water-wheels attached to the piles 
 below alone revealing the nature of the water- 
 passage. A few lights only now gleamed from 
 the painted windows of the bridge-street ; 
 and when the student turned into the still 
 darker, narrower thoroughfares of the island of 
 the city, not a glimmer came to guide him on 
 his way along their dirty passages. But the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 263 
 
 steps of Perrinet resounded before him ; and 
 sometimes his form was dimly visible at the turn 
 of a street. Yvon followed. His heart, it is 
 true, beat somewhat nervously within his bosom, 
 as a dark figure from time to time appeared in 
 a contrary direction; but those he met passed 
 on. Sometimes it was a ruffian-looking man, 
 who scowled upon the kloarek as he went by, 
 but who seemed to have considered the young 
 armourer too strong, the student too poor, to 
 be worth a night attack upon their persons: some- 
 times he stumbled on a miserable beggar, male 
 or female, who sat crouched in the mud or squat- 
 ting in a doorway porch, and begged in doleful 
 tones for charity from the late wanderers : and 
 anon came a half-drunken student, or a de- 
 bauched-looking youth in the fanciful attire 
 of a page of some nobleman, who seemed to 
 be seeking their homes after a revelry in the 
 ill-famed Rue de Glatigny. But it was at 
 length without obstruction that Yvon emerged 
 upon the open space of the Parvis Notre Dame. 
 The great gloomy pile of the cathedral stood 
 dark and menacing in the faint moonlight; and, 
 crossing the open ground, was Perrinet before 
 him. The young armourer seemed to hurry on, 
 unheeding the severe beauty of the majestic
 
 2G4 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 building. Yvon muttered another prayer, with 
 that piety which characterised his nationality as 
 a Breton, and his earnest, submissive, loving 
 nature. Thus they went on, skirting the strag- 
 gling buildings of the archbishopric, until they 
 reached the space, obstructed with old masses of 
 masonry and other rubbish, still left after the 
 construction of the palace, and dotted here and 
 there with a few stunted trees, at which the 
 island of the city terminated. The space was 
 open and clear ; and, shrinking against the but- 
 tresses of the back part of the great church, 
 Yvon, aware that his friend had reached the 
 spot he sought, drew back to observe. 
 
 The space of waste land between the cathe- 
 dral and the river was strongly illumined, in 
 parts, by a great fire of wood, which was burn- 
 ing near the island point, and shed a lurid glow 
 over the nearest surrounding objects, but with 
 an effect so little earthly, upon that deserted 
 spot, that to the imaginative fancy of Yvon the 
 heaps of stone and rubbish and ruin looked 
 like dark squatting imps, the few stunted willow- 
 trees like deformed demons with many arms, 
 and the huge sombre church, the immense mass 
 of which was scarcely tinged by the flame and 
 stood " in darkness visible," like the giant ma-
 
 THE LILY OF PAULS. 265 
 
 gician who had called them forth to do his 
 bidding, and perform their unholy rites around 
 that fire. His mind, ever prone to look even upon 
 the ordinary objects of daily life with a fanciful 
 and poetic eye, was quickly filled with visions of 
 sorcery and witchcraft, in which, like all his 
 country people, and indeed almost all persons in 
 that age, he was a firm believer from religious 
 faith as well as fancy. He was aware, however, 
 that this same fire burned nightly, at the foot of 
 the cathedral, as a sort of watch-fire upon that 
 tongue of land, by reason of an obligation en- 
 tailed by ancient charter, which compelled the 
 Chapter of Notre Dame to pay a watchman 
 appointed to keep this light burning, although 
 the cause of its use had grown so obsolete to be 
 forgotten. 
 
 With such fancies, then, coming thick upon 
 him, it was with no slight tremor that Yvon 
 saw his friend Perrinet walking round the watch- 
 light as if seeking some one he did not find : 
 once the young armourer bent over a dusky 
 figure on the ground ; but this appeared to be 
 the sleeping watchman ; and it was with a still 
 greater thrill of horror that the kloarek saw a 
 dark form suddenly start up from among a mass 
 of masonry near the flame, where it seemed to 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE LTLY OF PARIS. 
 
 have crouched like a hideous black beetle near 
 the genial warmth of a fire, and confront his 
 friend. To his excited imagination the form 
 appeared to be nothing less than that of the 
 awful " dark spirit" in its own person. He 
 hastily crossed himself, with a short muttered 
 prayer of exorcism in the Latin tongue, and was 
 about to emerge from his hiding-place, to come 
 to the assistance of his friend in a peril no less 
 dangerous than those he had feared for him, 
 because of its spiritual nature, when he saw that 
 Perrinet, who had at first sprung back, as if also 
 somewhat startled by the suddenness of the ap- 
 parition, now accosted the ghostly being, as if 
 prepared to meet it. When the first effect of 
 the vestige of that species of hallucination which 
 had come over him, passed away from Yvon's 
 eyes, he became aware that the dark form which 
 had thus suddenly appeared was that of a female, 
 or at least of one in female attire, but apparently 
 bent and almost crippled by age. The fear of 
 witches and sorceresses was, however, scarcely less 
 powerfully impressed upon the mind of the young 
 Breton than that of the " arch enemy " himself: 
 and so near a communication of the young 
 armourer, the truth of whose principles and faith 
 he never before had reason to suspect, with such
 
 THE LILY OP PARIS. 267 
 
 a being, struck him with dismay. Tohis increasing 
 surprise he saw Perrinet soon engaged in earnest 
 conversation with this suspicious apparition: now 
 he turned away, as if in disdain, and made a few 
 steps as though about to depart in anger: now 
 recalled by some words, pronounced apparently in 
 emphatic language by his mysterious companion, 
 who gesticulated violently and tossed her skinny 
 arms on high, he once more turned, and once more 
 seemed to listen and to answer. Twice or thrice 
 the same actions had occurred, until at last the 
 young armourer appeared to acquiesce in some 
 proposal made to him by the old woman, for he 
 stretched out his hand over the flame as if tender- 
 ing an oath. What compact had he made with 
 that hideous being? was Yvon's terrified thought. 
 Now, however, they left the spot, where they 
 had stood near the flame : Perrinet returned to- 
 wards the church, preceded by the old woman, 
 who shuffled hastily forwards, still tossing her 
 arms and gesticulating in a manner calculated to 
 impose upon the feelings of him who followed 
 her. They passed close by the spot where the 
 kloarek stood half hidden by a buttress of the 
 church ; and Yvon's first impulse was to advance, 
 confront his friend, and warn him of the peril to 
 
 his soul in thus associating with a being so 
 N 2
 
 268 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 evidently of evil aspect, and probably of more evil 
 character; but his habits of deference and re- 
 spect towards his elder and more powerful friend 
 — his fear of Perrinet's reproof, to him a bitter 
 pang — his embarrassment and nervous anxiety, 
 all combined to combat this first resolution. But 
 interest in the young armourer's fate — and per- 
 haps, also, the irresistible impulse of a vague, 
 ill-defined, but absorbing curiosity excited by 
 the mystery of this nightly meeting, acted still 
 more powerfully than his more delicate feelings 
 of hesitation : he followed again, almost uncon- 
 sciously to himself. The dark building of the 
 Hotel-Dieu was thus passed, Yvon keeping at a 
 little distance from these strange associates ; the 
 narrow bridge, called the Petit Pont, was crossed 
 in darkness and silence ; and the black muddy 
 quays, on the southern bank of the Seine, were 
 waded along, until the open space of the Place 
 Maubert, which formed an irregular plain, sur- 
 rounded on three sides by buildings standing 
 about in much disorder, rather than a square, 
 was gained by the three night wanderers. 
 
 Here, dimly seen in the obscure night, stood 
 at the end of the Place, the furthest from the 
 river, the imposing mass of the great Carmelite 
 monastery, its Byzantine cupola standing in
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 269 
 
 black form against the sky, the faint light of 
 which shone, however, through the capacious 
 open work of the gothic pinnacles of the unhar- 
 moniously constructed building, and left their 
 dark tracery in black lace-like design upon its 
 face. On one side also were visible the heavier 
 profiles of the tops of the great trees in the Car- 
 nielite garden : below were confused masses, 
 half hidden in the deep shade, which, on nearer 
 approach, might be seen to be a quantity of mise- 
 rable huts, clinging like poisonous plants to the 
 feet of the monastery walls — the abodes of 
 wretchedness and possible crime close by the 
 residence of priestly wealth and reputed piety, 
 in that strange inexplicable contrast so general 
 in the middle ages, which invariably placed the 
 hovel at the palace side, the wretched residence 
 of the evil-doer and the reputed sorcerer, the ana- 
 thematized and scorned, under the very " shadow 
 of the wing " of the religious community. The 
 open space was crossed by Pen-met and his sin- 
 gular guide, while Yvon followed, seeking the 
 shade of such trees as grew, here and there, 
 upon it. Beneath one of the oriental looking 
 towers of the monastery,whence a single glimmer- 
 ing light still shone faintly from a high and nar- 
 row window, as though one of the learned monks
 
 270 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 were meditating, during the night hours, some 
 book of rare science, such as were then slowly 
 developed and written, the student saw the old 
 hag suddenly pause : she again raised her arms 
 on high and screeched with a peculiar screech, 
 like that of a night owl. Perrinet appeared to 
 seize her roughly, as if to inquire the cause of 
 this action : but it would seem that the old 
 woman gave some absurd explanation ; for her 
 shrill mocking laugh rang upon the air, and they 
 moved on. The light at the window had dis- 
 appeared. They turned an angle of the build- 
 ing, near one of the concrete masses of hovels. 
 When Yvon reached the same spot they were 
 no longer to be seen. Close by stood one of 
 the ruined gates of the ancient fortifications of 
 Philip Augustus, the Porte Bordet, now become 
 useless in the greater extent given to Paris on 
 that side of the Seine : the kloarek, thinking 
 the objects of his interest might have passed 
 through the crumbling gateway, hurried to it : 
 he looked beyond, he searched among the. ruins 
 of the old walls, falling around ; but Perrinet 
 and his guide had wholly disappeared : the earth 
 appeared to have swallowed them. Alarmed — 
 his mind filled with the most fantastic and fear- 
 ful apprehensions — his brain in a whirl, the poor
 
 TILE LILY OF TAILIS. 271 
 
 kloarek stood thunderstruck. Then he again 
 started, and wandered round the old gateway in 
 vain. But a spell seemed to bind him. He 
 could not prevail upon himself to leave the spot 
 where Perrinet had vanished from his sight. He 
 again hung his head between his shoulders and 
 clenched his hands, irresolute how to act. 
 
 The cause of Perrinet's disappearance, which 
 had thus powerfully affected the fanciful imagi- 
 nation of the kloarek, was, nevertheless, simple 
 enough in itself. Immediately upon turning 
 the turreted angle of the Carmelite monastery, 
 the guide of the young armourer had seized his 
 hand, and before he was well aware of her intent, 
 had led him down a short and narrow alley, 
 dividing two of those filthy hovels, already de- 
 scribed as clinging like foul weeds or noisome 
 reptiles to the base of the monastery walls. She 
 had then paused for a moment before a low 
 door, and, using a peculiarly constructed iron, 
 bearing resemblance rather to a picklock than 
 a key, had lifted a concealed latch, and intro- 
 duced him into the interior of the hut. 
 
 At first Perrinet found himself in utter dark- 
 ness ; and for a moment his mind misgave him 
 that he had been lured into that dark dwelling 
 for some evil purpose ; but he soon heard his
 
 272 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 guide employed in striking a light. A flame 
 was quickly obtained : a small lamp, placed in a 
 clay niche or recess in a wall, was lighted, and 
 he was able to look about him. 
 
 The room into which the young armourer had 
 been introduced was small, and encumbered on 
 every side, partly by matters of domestic use, such 
 as a straw sack arranged as a bed in a corner, and 
 some other scanty articles of rude furniture, but 
 partly also by small round gratings upon iron 
 feet, used as hand-furnaces, vases of different 
 strange shapes, both earthen and metal, and ele- 
 vated boards covered with small heaps of wax 
 or clay, and lumps of bread, and little spikes of 
 iron arranged in fantastic devices— all the para- 
 phernalia, in fact, of the art of the devineress, in 
 an age, when cards, the invention of which was 
 still unknown to the world in general, were not 
 yet called into play to assist in the great art, 
 which, however dreaded, forbidden, and dan- 
 gerous to its practisers, was so frequently stu- 
 died as to give an amount of sorcerers and 
 sorceresses in the city of Paris alone, not 
 equal, perhaps, to the frightful enumeration 
 of Master Cocardas, but to an almost incredible 
 number. 
 
 After casting his eye hastily over these mys-
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 273 
 
 terious objects, and gazing also, with no small 
 degree of awe, although himself not so com- 
 pletely given as most to the credulity of the age, 
 upon a dark curtain, which was drawn over one 
 corner of the room, as if to conceal some shape, 
 so terrible, bethought, that no eye dared look upon 
 it, Perrinet was somewhat relieved in mind at 
 observing, opposite to the recess containing the 
 lamp, another niche, occupied by a small rude 
 figure of the Virgin, beneath which a garland of 
 wild flowers had been hung, although now com- 
 pletely withered and dead. He was not, then, 
 in the abode of one, whose soul was entirely sold 
 to the arch-enemy of mankind. When he 
 looked upon the supposed sorceress, he found 
 that she had seated herself on a stool, and with 
 her head between her hands, and her elbows on 
 her knees, was gazing upon him with a look of 
 that intense interest, which she had evinced 
 when first meeting him that morning in the 
 lane opposite the mercer's house. 
 
 " "Why fix you on me thus your eyes, woman ?" 
 said Perrinet, angrily. " Would you cast a spell 
 on me ? If it be so, I defy you." And he made 
 the sign of the cross, and then spat upon the 
 ground. "Speak! and gaze no longer thus. 
 Speak ! you have lured me hither with promises 
 n 3
 
 27 '4 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 that, by your art, you could tell me where my 
 lost love is to be found ; as you lured me to yon 
 place of rendezvous. Speak ! — fulfil your pro- 
 mise. Whatever your art, be it fair or foul, can 
 tell me, tell at once. Speak, I say ! " 
 
 " Why I look on thee ? " said Mother Jehanne 
 at last, slowly and deliberately, without moving 
 from her position, and replying only to the first 
 part of his address. " My art, whatever it be, 
 goes not so far as to expound to me mine own fate, 
 or even mine own feelings. Why I look on thee 
 thus, with an emotion of the heart, which has 
 not beat for many a long year except to hopes of 
 just revenge for cruel wrongs, I myself could 
 not tell thee. Perhaps thy traits recall, vaguely, 
 — I know not how — by that frown of thy brow, 
 or that pressure of thy lip — those of one long 
 since dead and gone. Perhaps — but this is folly,' 
 she added, hastily, lifting herself up more erect. 
 " Thou hast spoken of other things. What didst 
 thou say, young man ? " 
 
 " Are you mad, beldame?" exclaimed Perrinet; 
 who, however surprised at first at the strange 
 interest of the old woman, now gave way to the 
 natural impatience of his temper — " or do you 
 trifle with me ? My time is precious. You have 
 told me that by your art you could discover to
 
 THE LILY OF PA.RIS. 275 
 
 me the retreat of her I love. Let me, then, see 
 at once what your art can do ; or, perchance, I 
 may punish you, old and infirm as you are, for 
 your deception." 
 
 " Art so bold ? " said Mother Jehanne, with 
 her bitter ironical laugh. "Nay, frown not 
 again. Thy impatience pleases me. Yes ; my 
 art is great, young man, and can do much. 
 Shouldst thou show me the lines of thy hand, 
 I could unravel to thee thy destiny : and yet, 
 I need not the power of chiromancy to tell thee 
 that thy destiny is a great and proud one ; 
 for, as already I have said to thee, there is 
 that upon thy brow which speaks it plainly. I 
 might use the revealing agency of molten lead 
 in yonder water-bowl, or the mysteries of the 
 cord and wire, or the wax before the furnace, or 
 my brazen mirror, which has its powerful pro- 
 perties, or the surface of the pure element ; and 
 I might expound to thee things great and true, 
 regarding thy nearer future. But all this is not 
 for thee ; and, as respects thy lady-love, young 
 man — although I have warned thee that such 
 poor toys as love in lady's chamber are not for 
 such as thou art — I have already said to thee 
 that thou must deal with one more powerful 
 than myself."
 
 276 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 "Would you bring me into parley witlj the 
 evil spirit, vile hag?" exclaimed the young 
 armourer. " And yet," he added instantly, "if 
 you place me face to face with Satan him- 
 self, I would brave him, could he but bring back 
 the fair being of whom I speak, to my distracted 
 heart." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed the presumed sorceress; 
 "you think that, now the devil in man's hide 
 rules the land, Satan may be found at each 
 street corner, and in the hut as well as the 
 palace — for it is there he wanders now, ramping, 
 and tearing, and spoiling, and killing, as of old. 
 Ha ! ha ! if it be the devil thou seekest, thou 
 mayst find him with the coronet of count upon 
 his head, the sword of power in his hand." 
 
 " Beldame ! such words as these, if rightly I 
 interpret your ravings, I will not hear," said 
 Perrinet. " To the purpose ! You tell me I 
 shall learn that which I seek to know, from one 
 more powerful than yourself. Be it even the foul 
 fiend, I say, I will confront him. Where is he ? " 
 
 Mother Jehanne seemed to listen for a mo- 
 ment. A slight grating noise was heard from 
 the corner of the room over which hung the 
 dark curtain. 
 
 u He is here ! " she said.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 277 
 
 The curtain was lifted aside ; and a small 
 figure, fully enveloped in a dark cloak or robe, 
 the hood of which as completely covered its 
 head and features, advanced into the room. The 
 sudden appearance of the dusky form, and a 
 peculiar limp about its gait, which might have 
 easily encouraged the belief that a cloven foot 
 was concealed among the long folds of the dark 
 covering, caused the thought, for a moment, to 
 cross the brain of the young man that it was 
 indeed the foul fiend himself which had risen in 
 bodily form before him. He drew back some 
 steps with surprise. But Perrinet was bold: with 
 an instinctive movement he placed his hand upon 
 the hilt of his cutlass, and gazed upon the figure 
 before him with a sharp and steady frown. 
 Mother Jehanne made a crooked obeisance to 
 the being, as a witch might make to the power- 
 ful demon she has evoked, and shuffling to the 
 sack of straw, squatted down upon it. She 
 seemed now to have no other task to fulfil, in the 
 presence of the master spirit, than to retreat 
 before its influence and to await its orders. 
 
 Perrinet remained standing face to face with 
 the mysterious being : and a pause of utter 
 silence, interrupted only by the heavy breathing 
 of the young armourer, ensued.
 
 278 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " Who art thou ? what wouldst thou with 
 me ? speak, I charge thee," said Perrinet, at 
 last, still impressed with the idea that it was 
 a being of an unearthly nature, that stood 
 before him, and calling to mind that it was 
 necessary first to address a spirit so evoked, 
 before it can speak. 
 
 " Your well-wisher, young man ; if so be 
 you will allow me to prove myself such," was 
 responded by a clear, insinuating voice from 
 beneath the cowl. " For the time being permit 
 me to bear no other name." 
 
 The manner in which these words were pro- 
 nounced, so different from that which he had 
 expected, began immediately to divest the dark 
 being of those attributes with which the fancy 
 of Perrinet had invested it. 
 
 " You are no being of another world, then?" 
 he said frankly, but still with some lingering 
 doubt ; " or is this but a means to cajole me 
 to security, and better to lay an evil spell upon 
 me?" 
 
 " I am no being of another world," said the 
 stranger, in a tone in which some slight mockery 
 dwelt; " I am but a poor mortal man." 
 
 " Who art thou, then? again I ask." 
 
 " Again I answer that, as yet, I must conceal
 
 THE LILY OF TARIS. 279 
 
 my name," was the reply. " Again I say that 
 I am your well-wisher, and would prove so if 
 you are inclined to listen to reason." 
 
 " Be it so !" exclaimed Perrinet, after a pause, 
 during which he still played with his dagger's 
 hilt. {i Prove then your words. I have been led 
 hither to speak with you but for one purpose. 
 I have but one desire in the world. Can you 
 fulfil it?" 
 
 " She whom you love has been taken from 
 you ; you have been denied the knowledge 
 of her whereabouts ; you have been told that 
 you can find such knowledge here," replied the 
 stranger, without answering the last question. 
 
 " It is so," said Perrinet ; " you know her, 
 then?" 
 
 " Odette de Champsdivers," was the answer. 
 " Lys d'Ange, as the profane call her." 
 
 " Odette ! 'tis true ! Who are you, who 
 possess this knowledge ?" and Perrinet advanced 
 upon the form before him, as if to raise its cowl. 
 
 M Another step, young man," said the stranger, 
 drawing back and lifting up an opposing arm, 
 " and I leave you instantly ; from my mouth 
 you shall hear nothing more." 
 
 " Tell me, then," pursued Perrinet, holding 
 back, " where is she? since you seem to know."
 
 280 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 " I said not that I knew where she now is." 
 
 " Would you juggle with me?" cried the 
 young man angrily. " If not you, it was yon 
 hag who told me that I should learn from one 
 within this hut, whither they had taken my 
 Odette." 
 
 " I say not, also, that I do not know," 
 responded the stranger ; " but before I speak 
 I must learn how far you may be worthy to 
 hear the secrets I might reveal." 
 
 " I am not patient, I know ; but methinks, 
 mysterious sir, you trifle with man's patience 
 sadly," said Perrinet, repressing his anger. 
 " Out with your speech, I say ; I am prepared 
 to hear you ;" and he again handled his dagger. 
 But it must have been evident at the same time, 
 to a scrutinizing eye, that the mind of the young 
 armourer felt the influence of the mystery that 
 surrounded him, and of the arts that had been 
 employed to bestow upon the strangely con- 
 trived interview an imposing air. Even in the 
 tones of his voice there lingered the evidence 
 that his impatient spirit had been already some- 
 what overawed. 
 
 " Think not," commenced the stranger insi- 
 nuatingly, " that I do not compassionate the 
 tortures of your mind — think not, because you
 
 THE LILY OL PARIS. 281 
 
 may surmise, perchance, this robe conceals a 
 heart that beats not with youthful ardour as 
 does yours, that it is one that does not fully 
 feel and comprehend the all-absorbing passion 
 that consumes the lover. But there are suffer- 
 ings as profound — profounder still — to which 
 even the egotistic lover should not close his eyes. 
 We are taught that each man should bear his 
 cross with resignation ; but heavy is that cross 
 and hard to bear, when it falls as a cruel yoke 
 upon the neck of a suffering people — " 
 
 * Maybe," exclaimed Perrinet; " but how 
 touches this upon the subject of which we speak?" 
 
 " Still — still a moment's patience, my son," 
 continued his mysterious interlocutor. " The 
 path which I pursue may appear an indirect 
 and tortuous one : but it leads on to your 
 Odette. The beauteous maiden stands, like a 
 star in the vista, to shed a light upon our course: 
 that bright luminous point shall be the crown of 
 glory, which shall be offered you as a reward." 
 
 " A reward ! " cried Perrinet again ; " you 
 juggle with me still. Rewards are bestowed for 
 services." 
 
 " And maybe," replied the stranger, " there 
 may be those who may require services at your 
 hands, and would reward them well."
 
 282 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 " But not to the detriment of my soul's 
 weal?" said the young man, once more allowing 
 a doubt of an unearthly nature to cross him. 
 
 " To the advancement of your soul's weal, 
 my son," was the answer. 
 
 " Again I ask you, who are you that you 
 speak thus ? surrounded as you are by all the 
 attributes of sorcery — of an art stigmatized as 
 unclean, foul, and impious, that leads but to the 
 clutches of the evil one ?" inquired Perrinet, 
 amazed. 
 
 " Sorcery is indeed a sin against the Most 
 High, my son," replied the stranger, musingly : 
 i( but the powers of eternal nature, and of 
 natural science, long kept under by a spirit 
 that forbade, but understood them not, will 
 assert their sway. When nature, in its endless 
 workings, appears before us with a charm so 
 irritating, weak man will fall into its bosom ; and 
 before the dazzling apparition even faith will 
 give way, a victim to its fascination. To the 
 vulgar eye its study may assume the form of 
 magic, not of science ; but there are those who 
 judge not thus hastily. And yet, I am not one 
 of those who deny all, even while they believe 
 all. I myself have struggled against the temp- 
 tations of alchemy and astrology. I have
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 283 
 
 resisted the demon, and it has flown from me: and 
 yet, again I say, I judge neither harshly nor 
 hastily of such matters. But it is not of this 
 that I would speak," he added, breaking off in to 
 a less meditative tone, on being recalled to him- 
 self by the look of wonder with which the young 
 armourer regarded him, as if uncomprehending 
 the incoherent and ill-digested opinions he thus 
 let fall, but, perhaps, at the same time not sorry 
 to have worked upon the young man's feel- 
 ings by his mystic discourse ; " I would have 
 spoken of the service your youthful spirit might 
 render to suffering humanity, and of the reward 
 that shall await your troubled love. Hear me 
 with patience but for a few short moments, my 
 son. You cannot have been so blinded by your 
 passion, but that you must know how bitterly 
 this poor country groans beneath its burden of 
 woe — how cruelly stream the wounds inflicted 
 upon our wretched city of Paris by its present 
 rulers — how constantly, by day and night, the 
 blessed saints cry for a deliverer from those who 
 have used the sword of power to the spoliation 
 of their altars. A curse against the spoiler and 
 the destroyer goes up to heaven incessantly, 
 like an eternal incense from the shrine of the 
 oppressed. But the deliverer shall come —
 
 284 THE LILY OE PARIS. 
 
 Heaven will appoint him in its own right time ; 
 yet we must seek him by human means. Who 
 is the spoiler and the destroyer ? Need I ask 
 any right-minded citizen of our tortured Paris? 
 Who, again, is the boldest, firmest enemy of the 
 spoiler? who, thus the enemy of wrong, the 
 friend of right — who, then, our deliverer and 
 avenger? Whom should we seek, I ask?" 
 
 " I marvel greatly at my patience, that I 
 listen to you thus," replied Perrinet sternly, 
 although with less of violence than was his wont: 
 " instead of fulfilling your purpose and your 
 promise, you launch forth upon high matters of 
 state, that touch me not — that concern me not. 
 What matter to me whether our ruler be Ar- 
 magnac" — and yet his voice had an inflection of 
 bitterness at that name- — "or another? You 
 speak to me, methinks, of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy. Would you call a heaven-sent deli- 
 verer that foul traitor — that assassin — that 
 murderer of the brother of our king?" 
 
 "When Judith slew Holofernes, my son," 
 pursued the stranger, " it was the hand of God 
 that killed by her hand, as it was the enemy of 
 God she slew; and Louis, Duke of Orleans, 
 was a reviler and blasphemer. When a faith- 
 ful vassal saves his sovereign from the designs of
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 285 
 
 a felon with strong arm, he slays for the public 
 weal ; and Louis of Orleans was a tyrant, and 
 an enemy of that weal — as is now another. 
 Know you not that in God's hand the holy ends 
 justify the means employed; and that thus the 
 instruments become holy?" he added, making 
 use of a doctrine, which, however considered as 
 a characteristic of a certain sect, is as ancient as 
 the most ancient religion, whose ministers may 
 have made ill use of it to serve their own 
 purposes. 
 
 " Apologist of murder ! disseminator of 
 treason ! who art thou ? I ask a last time," 
 said Perrinet, advancing again upon his com- 
 panion. 
 
 The stranger drew back, although without 
 any appearance of alarm, towards the end of 
 the room by which he had entered. 
 
 " Another step, and thou wilt see me no 
 more," he said. " If thou wilt not listen to 
 the accents of humanity and truth, listen to 
 those of thine own interest." 
 
 *' Never to words of treachery and treason!" 
 exclaimed Perrinet impetuously, " never." 
 
 "Never?" echoed the stranger in a tone of 
 mockery; " the time will come, and shortly too 
 — the time will come, I say, when thou slialt
 
 286 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 desire to hear again the words to which thou now 
 refusest thine ear; when thou shalt seek with 
 eagerness him who has uttered them. Peter be- 
 lieved not his Master when he said, ' Before the 
 cock crow twice, thou wilt deny me thrice;' and 
 yet the saint denied his Lord. Thou too shalt 
 change; and when thou seekest me I shall be 
 found. Thou art too hot-blooded for our further 
 conference now; till thou canst hear me more 
 calmly, adieu." With these words he placed 
 his hand upon the curtain. 
 
 " Thou shalt not leave me thus," cried the 
 young man ; " thou hast promised to tell me 
 where is my Odette, and thou shalt tell me — 
 even if I force the words out of thy mouth with 
 my dagger's blade. 
 
 " Seek her where insinuating passion pours 
 words of resistless flattery in her ear — and, if 
 that direction fail thee, seek her in the power of 
 Armagnac." 
 
 With these words, the mysterious being dis- 
 appeared behind the curtain. Perrinet darted 
 after him, and tore aside he screen. Beyond 
 was the bare angle of the wall of the hovel ; 
 but no being was to be seen. The young 
 armourer remained like one thunderstruck for 
 a moment, as if the thought that it was a
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 287 
 
 being of another world that had spoken to him 
 again crossed his mind. Then he thrust against 
 the wall — but in vain. 
 
 " Armagnac ! again the name of Armagnac !" 
 he cried. " Odette ! Odette! can it be? art 
 thou in that man's power?" 
 
 He turned round to question the sorceress ; 
 but she also had disappeared : he had not 
 remarked that she had stealthily left the room 
 some moments previously, during his discourse 
 with the stranger. With a curse upon all 
 sorceresses and their agents, he hurried out of the 
 hovel, his brain still more filled with confused 
 and troubled thoughts than when he entered it. 
 
 In a narrow corridor of stone, meanwhile, 
 on the other side of the angle of the wall, 
 where the mysterious stranger had disappeared, 
 stood the Carmelite monk, Jean Petit, with a lamp 
 in one hand, one finger of the other placed upon 
 his lips. Mother Jehanne leant her hand against 
 a species of door, the openings of which were 
 visible on that side, although not on the other, 
 as if to listen. 
 
 "He is gone," she said at last; "you have 
 failed, then, my father." 
 
 " Failed ! no;" replied the monk, proudly. 
 
 "The pear is not yet ripe ; that is all. But it
 
 288 THE LILY OF PARTS. 
 
 will ripen ; and then but a slight shake of the 
 bough will cause it to fall into my hands. He 
 must not escape us. The son of old Leclerc, 
 the guardian of the gate of St. Germain, for 
 such you say he is, were too great a prize. 
 Free access to the city might be ours. No, no ; 
 his passion for that girl will serve our turn. 
 Those words I used to excite his jealousy, sug- 
 gested by what I overheard after I had left her 
 this afternoon, and still lingered to listen and ob- 
 serve, were as heavy weights laid upon his soul : 
 no torturer ever laid on heavier. I have him in 
 my power; and before long we shall meet again." 
 
 (i You will not harm the youth, my father," said 
 Mother Jehanne, thoughtfully. " He interests 
 me strangely. 'Tis a bold and comely youth." 
 
 " I lead him the way to honour, woman," 
 replied the monk. " But thou hast done thy 
 part well, Mother Jehanne, in bringing him 
 hither from that rendezvous thou hadst so cun- 
 ningly appointed to work upon his feelings. 
 Thou shalt have thy reward. 
 
 " I need no reward ; and you know it, my 
 father/' exclaimed the old crone, suddenly draw- 
 ing herself up from her submissive stoop, into 
 a fierce and excited attitude ; " can I but 
 wreak my revenge upon that false, murderous
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 289 
 
 Count, the Armagnac, for all the foul wrongs, 
 he has done to me and mine." 
 
 "And that reward do not I tell thee thou 
 shalt have ?" said Jean Petit, with a laugh. 
 
 " Ah ! thus you meant," answered Mother 
 Jehanne, with a laugh far wilder. 
 
 " But to effect this end — hear me, Mother 
 Jehanne — there is still much to do," resumed the 
 Carmelite. " The butcher fellow, whom I saved 
 to-day from death, lies concealed within the walls ; 
 he is much beloved by the fellows of his craft, it 
 seems. See that his disappearance be so inter- 
 preted that the greatest discontent and anger be 
 excited. We will let him loose upon them at 
 the right time. The University, also, must be 
 worked upon — the students roused — we shall 
 be able to call those hot heads our own, if they 
 be rightly stirred. A sure emissary must be 
 found to send to the duke forthwith ; you can 
 aid me there, also." After imparting some more 
 detailed instructions, and giving into her hand 
 a hastily written scrap of paper, he added, "God's 
 hand is with us ; we shall prosper." 
 
 " Be it God or devil aids us," muttered to 
 herself Mother Jehanne, as the monk waved his 
 hand to her and turned up the corridor, U I will 
 have my vengeance." 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE RUE ST. JACQUES. 
 
 Now is the time when rakes their revels keep, 
 
 Kindlers of riot, enemies of sleep. 
 
 Gay. 
 
 Come, then ; let's go fight with them — up Fish-street ! down 
 
 St. Magnus' Corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them 
 
 into the Thames. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The feelings of Perrinet were as varied and 
 confused as tumultuous, when he emerged from 
 the hovel of Mother Jehanne. He swept his 
 thick hair from his brow, as if by the calming 
 influence of the cool night air he could chase 
 away the dark influence from his mind ; but the 
 heavens above were covered and dim, and their 
 aspect added rather to the confusion of the 
 various thoughts that drifted across his brain, 
 like the clouds cross the sky. Although the 
 thought of Odette, so strangely ravished from 
 him, formed the principal feature in the chaos 
 of his mind, yet there were other points, which 
 stood forward out of the confused mass, and 
 forced themselves upon his attention. Brought 
 up by a father, calm and piously inclined, whose
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 291 
 
 office, as guardian of one of the gates of the 
 capital, placed him in the position of a highly 
 responsible agent of the government, whatever 
 that government might be, Perrinet's youthful 
 mind, however impatient his temperament, had 
 been stored with sentiments of loyalty and 
 peaceful submission to authority : his education, 
 also, at the knee of the Abbess of St. Magloire, 
 had added to the influence of these principles ; 
 and, since he had left his father's house to pur- 
 sue the trade his natural bent had induced him 
 to choose, he had been too much absorbed in his 
 ardent passion to pay any heed to the fearful 
 position of the distracted state of France, or to 
 the sufferings, more immediately under his eyes, 
 of the distressed capital. That day had already 
 begun to work a change in all his feelings, 
 unconsciously to himself. The discovery of the 
 dauphin's courtship beneath the windows of 
 Odette, had filled his easily excited and impe- 
 tuous mind with bitterness against the frivolity 
 of the young nobles of the time, and inspired 
 him with a sudden aversion to the young prince, 
 and all who surrounded him. The mysterious 
 disappearance of his beloved, under circum- 
 stances which involuntarily he connected with 
 some act of tyranny from those in power — the 
 o 2
 
 292 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 hints which he; had wrung from the mouth of 
 the Lady Abbess, and the direct assurance from 
 the strange being he had just seen, that Odette 
 was in the hands of the Constable — all com- 
 bined to lay a solid foundation for the hatred 
 that began to rise higher and higher within his 
 breast against the court, shattered and reduced 
 as it might be by the king's unhappy state of 
 health, the Count d'Armagnac, and those who 
 at present ruled the land. These feelings were 
 still vague and unreasoned even to himself; 
 and he had resisted the very shadow of treason 
 in the words of the stranger with energy, in 
 obedience to the first impulse of old habit, 
 education, and spontaneous sentiment. But 
 the bitterness with which he commenced to 
 confound his own unhappy position with the 
 miserable state of public affairs, by a confused 
 and undefined train of thought, was none the 
 less : and that undefined feeling of a desire for 
 change which often comes over those who have 
 reason for discontent, even though that discon- 
 tent be but of a personal nature, as if by any con- 
 vulsion of change he could otherwise shape the 
 course of those events which harassed him, 
 rolled obscurely through his brain, like a distant 
 thunder-cloud upon the horizon. All these
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 293 
 
 ideas, however, were still in a state of chaos in 
 his mind, and as yet left untouched by any 
 distinct self-consciousness of their existence. 
 
 " He was right ! " he exclaimed at last, aloud, 
 clenching his fist. " Be he man or devil, I 
 must see him again, and know how far this 
 Constable, this Armagnac, this devil in man's 
 hide — for such they call him — ay ! this devil 
 in man's hide — has used his vile tyranny to tear 
 away Odette ! " 
 
 As he thus spoke aloud, Perrinet was startled 
 by an exclamation of surprise. On looking up 
 he saw the kloarek before him. 
 
 " Perrinet ! " cried Yvon. " It is really thou ! r ' 
 
 " Yvon ! " exclaimed the young armourer. 
 " How earnest thou here V 
 
 It was with no little embarrassment that 
 Yvon, after betraying himself in his first feel- 
 ings of joy at Perrinet's reappearance, confessed 
 the step he had taken in following his friend, 
 uninvited, only delicately alluding to the rea- 
 sons of his devoted zeal, and narrated how his 
 spiritual alarm had got the upper hand of his 
 better reason, when Perrinet had vanished from 
 his sight, as though the earth had swallowed 
 him with his strange and suspicious conductress. 
 The mind of the young armourer was too much
 
 291 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 beset with his many harassing thoughts, to 
 chide his humble friend for an interference in 
 his affairs, that at another time might, in his 
 first movement of impatience, have greatly an- 
 noyed him. He pressed the kloarek's hand 
 with a hasty expression of thanks, and, without 
 letting fall the hand, stood gazing again in 
 gloomy thought before him. 
 
 " Thou art troubled, my friend," said Yvon, 
 after a long pause, pressing the hand that held 
 his in return, as if to awaken his attention. 
 " What has crossed thee ? I have seen thee in 
 strange company. That weird-looking old hag 
 — should she have cast a spell upon thee ! Oh, 
 speak to me, Perrinet ! Thou canst not tell all 
 the fearful thoughts that have swept over my 
 poor brain, like the raging flood over the peace- 
 ful landscape, since thou wast lost to sight ! 
 Surely thou wouldst not hold dealings with the 
 evil one or his agents, to the peril of thy hea- 
 venly soul ? " 
 
 " My soul ! " exclaimed Perrinet, starting, as 
 one awakened from a dream. " No, no ; it is 
 not my soul that is in peril: more like, my 
 fealty and my honour." 
 
 "I understand thee not," said Yvon, 
 anxiously.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 295 
 
 (i No ; thou canst not, should st not, under- 
 stand me, Yvon," said the young armourer ; 
 u as yet, I understand not myself." 
 
 " Be it that I cannot, should not, understand 
 thee," replied the kloarek. iS But thus much I 
 understand, that evil thoughts are upon thee. 
 Oh, scare them away from thee, Perrinet, my 
 friend ! — for such thou bidd'st me call thee — 
 resist them, as thou wouldst the foul spirit, that 
 they fly from thee ! I am humble, I am poor, 
 I am weak, I have not thy bold mind, it is true : 
 but the hyssop on the wall may teach a lesson, 
 may give forth a healing power, as well as the 
 proud cedar of Lebanon that waves so high." 
 
 " No more of this," responded Perrinet, some- 
 what impatiently ; " were it God or devil that 
 stood before me to lead me to Odette, or," he pro- 
 ceeded, in a lower, hoarser tone, M to show me the 
 way to vengeance and redress, if wrong be done to 
 me or her, I would follow. But it is neither God 
 nor devil with whom I have spoken ; of that 
 I am now well assured." Yvon shuddered. 
 "Ask me no further now; I cannot tell thee 
 more. Thou meanest well with me, perhaps — 
 yes, yes, I know thou dost. But that which 
 ferments like leaven within my breast, rousing 
 the whole mass of my very heart's blood, I can-
 
 296 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 not expound to thee. Do I know myself how to 
 expound it ? Come, come, let us go ; night 
 shall bring counsel to me, for sleep I shall not. 
 Oh, Odette ! Odette ! * 
 
 The name of Odette awakened an echoing 
 response in the kloarek's heart. He hung down 
 his head, and was silent. His timidity, also, 
 prevented his further importuning his friend. 
 He was about to accompany Perrinet, when the 
 young armourer caught his arm, and directed 
 his attention to another quarter. 
 
 "Look, look! What is that?" he said, 
 pointing to the ruined gateway at a little dis- 
 tance from them. A dark, stooping form might 
 be dimly seen receding from them through the 
 vista of the opening. " It is the old hag again. 
 Yes, surely it is she. I will question her fur- 
 ther ; and force her now to do my will ! " 
 
 " Forbear! " cried Yvon, taking courage, and 
 clinging to his friend. " Thrust thyself not 
 again upon these awful, dangerous beings. Leave 
 such a course, my Perrinet ! One moment, 
 listen : be not thus reckless " 
 
 " Let me be ! I will cross her path again, I 
 say, if it be really she ! " exclaimed Perrinet, 
 angrily, struggling with the poor student, and 
 easily shaking him off. " Leave me ! There
 
 THE LILY OF PABIS. 297 
 
 is more in this than thou thinkest — less than 
 thou dreamest of in thy fancies. Leave me ! — 
 or come with me, if thou wiliest, and see how 
 foolish thou art in thy surmises of sorcery. " 
 
 With these words, the young armourer has- 
 tened in the direction of the form which he had 
 imagined to be that of Mother Jehanne ; and 
 Yvon strode by his side with hasty, staggering 
 steps, as the spaniel that follows his master, 
 even if his hand be more ready to smite than to 
 caress it. 
 
 The direction which Perrinet touk in pursuit 
 of the figure he supposed to be that of the old 
 woman, led towards the Rue St. Jacques, then, 
 as now, forming, with the Rue de la Harpe, the 
 principal thoroughfare of the quarter of the 
 University, the inhabitants of which occupied 
 almost entirely, with their colleges, lecture-halls, 
 ecclesiastical dependencies, and dwellings, that 
 part of Paris lying on the south side of the 
 Seine, except such spaces as were covered by 
 numerous and extensive monastic establish- 
 ments. From time to time the young armourer 
 caught a glimpse of the person of whom he was 
 in pursuit, and who hobbled stoutly and hastily 
 forwards. But when he entered the Rue St. 
 Jacques, a few half-drunken students were quar- 
 o3
 
 298 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 relling at the corner ; and before he had thrust 
 his way through them, at the risk of concentrat- 
 ing the whole force of the tumult upon his 
 single head, the figure had disappeared. 
 
 The curfew had now tolled nearly two 
 hours previously ; and the hour was very late, 
 considering the habits and customs of the age : 
 but, nevertheless, there was the sound of riot 
 and confusion coming from several of the houses 
 in the street, which gave evidence of the tumul- 
 tuous and noisy spirits by which this part of the 
 town was occupied. Now it was the dull sound of 
 a bacchanalian song, now a chorus of shouts and 
 oaths, now a clash of rapiers, now a shrill scream, 
 or a shriller laugh from a female voice, that rolled 
 confusedly along the street, pouring, along with 
 sharp streaks of light, and the heavy, steamy 
 exhalations of congregated multitudes, from the 
 chinks in the shutters that closed the ground- 
 floor vaults. A few groups were reeling and 
 shouting in the street itself, or quarrelling like 
 those at the corner, among themselves, for want 
 of any extraneous object on which to let out 
 the exuberance of their young hot blood. 
 
 Although already, at this period, superannu- 
 ated in science and instruction, which were 
 frittered away in the pedantic and nonsensical
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 299 
 
 quibbles of the schools, and the verbose frivoli- 
 ties of the dialectics of the day, the University 
 of Paris had obtained, under the unhappy reign 
 of Charles VI., the apogee of its power. In 
 the miserable confusion which pervaded the 
 popedom, the empire, and the kingdom of 
 France, proud of its consciousness of domination 
 in having all the means of instruction and of 
 general publicity in its hands, it lorded and 
 ruled with a rod of iron, which was in the hands 
 of a set of doctors, of a mixed nature, half 
 laymen, half-priests, sour in temper, choleric in 
 disposition, and educated amidst polemical dis- 
 putes. It called itself " the eldest daughter of 
 the kings of France ;" and as such, held its head 
 high, and dictated loudly in the house of its 
 father, declaring on the least cause of discontent 
 that this " daughter of kings was injured in her 
 privileges and her dignity," and threatening to 
 close its schools, desert its pulpits, and disperse 
 its scholars, to the great detriment and loss of 
 the Parisians, were its exorbitant demands not 
 immediately gratified. Several instances had 
 occurred during the reign in which, for some 
 supposed breach of the University privileges, 
 powerful nobles had been obliged to make 
 it amends, and the Provost himself, disavowed
 
 300 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 by tlie government, forced to degrade himself 
 before it. 
 
 If, after such victories, the pride and triumph 
 of the professors was great, the insolence of the 
 scholars was still more exorbitant. They con- 
 sidered themselves masters of the streets of 
 Paris ; and their audacity was increased by their 
 privilege, long since wrung from the crown, 
 which enfranchised them from the ordinary 
 jurisdictions, and placed them solely beneath the 
 power of the canon law and the ecclesiastical 
 tribunals of the University. Although divided 
 internally into different clubs or sections, called 
 " nations," — the nations of France, England, 
 Normandy, and Picardy, — which frequently 
 fought furious battles among themselves, they 
 invariably united themselves into one body and in 
 a common cause, in opposition to any sup- 
 posed common enemy ; and their numbers, so 
 great that it was found impossible to count them 
 in any census, were formidable in the extreme. 
 It may be easily imagined, consequently, what 
 a power the sympathy and alliance of the stu- 
 dents, in the times of intestine convulsion, gave 
 into the hands of the intriguing agents of party, 
 who knew how to excite the passions of this 
 innumerable youthful population, united by the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 301 
 
 same occupations, tastes, and habits ; indepen- 
 dent by character and position, ardent, passion- 
 ate, impatient of all authority and control, and 
 always ready to draw the rapier, which was 
 worn in defiance of all ordinances, even were it 
 only in a dispute concerning the hygeian proper- 
 ties of a favourite wine in the schools, or after 
 a wrangle about the categories of Aristotle in 
 the pothouse. 
 
 Another circumstance gave the scholars of the 
 University an influential importance in the eyes 
 of those who sought to use them in times of 
 popular tumult. Although the natural enemies 
 of the wealthier citizens, the students formed a 
 sort of tacit league with the lower classes, poor, 
 discontented, and disposed to riot as themselves, 
 and thus had at their beck another force of an 
 alarming nature, when combined to their own. 
 Many of them there were, moreover, who, in 
 that state of strange saturnalia peculiar to the 
 age, — when the monk's cowl frequently rubbed 
 against the rags of the female bandit, and the 
 hood of the beggar-thief nodded to the cap of 
 the clerk, — scrupled not to associate with the 
 malefactors of every description, whom an ill- 
 regulated and insufficient police, acting only in 
 fits of bloody violence, was unable to suppress ;
 
 302 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 and who not unfrequently had a more intimate 
 connexion with the guilds of truands, cacons, Bo- 
 hemes, and ribaudes, or similar vagabonds, both 
 male and female, not only crowding with them 
 around the rude tables of the pothouse, but 
 begging with them in the street from door to 
 door, and just as ready as these their comrades to 
 lay hands at nightfall on a fat ham or a pretty 
 girl, as it might happen. Their power, when 
 aroused, was thus formidable in connexion with 
 the desperate classes of their day : and their aid 
 was the best instrument in the hands of the 
 malcontents, although a dangerous one, that 
 perchance might turn and wound the wielder. 
 
 The lower part of the houses composing the 
 Rue St. Jacques, consisted chiefly of low vaults, 
 some of which were used as shops for the neces- 
 saries of life ; but the greater portion as cook- 
 shops, taverns, and pothouses, frequented by 
 these students of the University. By day these 
 places of public resort were mostly open to the 
 street, possessing no window-frames, although 
 parapets breast-high closed them in, and much 
 less the luxury of glazing ; and leaving their in- 
 teriors, with all their scenes of quarrel, de- 
 bauchery, and riot, visible to the passer-by, as 
 public stages on which the strangest dramas
 
 THE LILY OF TARIS. 303 
 
 were continually acted. By night, however, 
 rude shutters, covering the open archways, 
 formed barricades towards the street, although 
 no complete obstructions to the gaze of the 
 curious ; for chinks and fissures enough there 
 were in these temporary walls to admit of a 
 sweeping inspection of the interior. It was to 
 one of the larger and most frequented of these 
 establishments that Perrinet, after looking in 
 vain into two or three other similar places of 
 resort in search of the sorceress, directed his 
 steps, followed by his faithful companion. A 
 huge and tolerably shapeless figure of a harp, 
 cut in wood, which swung over the arched en- 
 trance, revealed the fact that the house had once 
 belonged to the fallen guild of minstrels, and 
 still did duty as a sign to the well-known scho- 
 lars' tavern, which rejoiced, consequently, in 
 the pious name of the " Harp of David," albeit 
 more accustomed, in latter days, to give 
 forth sounds of tumultuous discord, than of 
 harmony. 
 
 Applying his eye to one of the great fissures, 
 before mentioned, in the wooden shutters which 
 had pretended to close the establishment since 
 the hour of curfew Perrinet, commanded a view 
 of the interior. Three small brass lamps, which
 
 304 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 hung from various parts of the vaulted roof, 
 gave sufficient light to enable him to scan the 
 whole aspect of the strange scene within ; and, 
 although by no means unused to a spectacle so 
 common, he riveted his attention upon it ; for 
 he had discovered the object of his search, and 
 was desirous of observing her proceedings before 
 he again thrust himself upon her notice. 
 
 Amidst the confused sounds which issued from 
 the tavern-vault, that of laughter was for the 
 time predominant. Several of the students had 
 risen from their benches at the rude tables, 
 covered with cups and jugs, and surrounded the 
 weird form of Mother Jehanne, who, in spite of 
 the customary earnestness and bitterness of her 
 character, seemed disposed to play a more con- 
 genial part among the group of reckless young 
 men, who had thus riotously assailed her. Several 
 hands had been thrust out to claim the exercise 
 of her art in chiromancy : and it appeared to be 
 the revelations she had made to one grizzle- 
 haired heavy looking fellow, who seemed to have 
 grown old in his efforts to learn his few pages 
 of Aristotle, or his few words of dog-latin, that 
 had excited the homeric bursts of laughter. One 
 young fair-haired boy had his arm about the old 
 woman's neck in a mockery of love-making : and
 
 THE LILT OF PARIS. 305 
 
 two or three hands held out cups of hypocras or 
 cervoise to tempt the crone to drink, as a reward 
 for her fortune-telling. 
 
 It was with difficulty that the old hag was at 
 length able to disengage herself from the riotous 
 crew, and retreat to a corner of the room to 
 munch the broken victuals which were likewise 
 thrust into her hands. It was not without de- 
 sign, however, as it seemed to the young ar- 
 mourer, that she chose her seat immediately 
 behind the stool of a big burly Carmelite monk, 
 whose presence in such a place, in those days of 
 license and disorder, excited no surprise, and 
 who was sitting with a huge jug of strong drink 
 and a horn cup before him, his face much in- 
 flamed, his eyes half closed, his head nodding in 
 the grave jerks of sleepiness. In fact it would 
 appear that she found means, by plucking his robe 
 behind, to arouse his dormant attention : for on 
 a sudden, the monk turned his heavy head, and 
 gave a sign of recognition at the sight of the 
 person squatting behind him. A paper also 
 seemed to be placed within his hands ; for he soon 
 laid a scrap of manuscript on the table, and open- 
 ing his eyes as wide over it as his heavy brains 
 permitted, he was evidently puzzling over the con- 
 tents with some difficulty, wagging his head from
 
 306 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 side to side as he spelt. It was not Perrinet 
 alone, however, whose attention appeared aroused 
 bj this little scene of mystery : another individual 
 in the pothouse seemed no less an observer of 
 what passed ; and a movement in this personage 
 attracted the young armourer's eye to him. 
 
 By his dress, as well as the fact of his having 
 close at his feet a boy with a monkey, it was 
 evident that the ostensible profession of this in- 
 dividual was that of a mire, or quack doctor of 
 the day. He was in appearance pondering over 
 a book which lay, along with a scanty modicum 
 of drink, before him : but it was the sharp move- 
 ment with which he twitched his seat nearer to 
 that of the monk, who sat not far from him, and 
 darted at him a glance out of the piercing black 
 eyes on either side of his sharp eagle nose, that 
 caught the notice of Perrinet. It seemed as if 
 those eyes would have defied all distance to devour 
 the contents of the paper thus mysteriously de- 
 livered : but these organs, although sharp ones, 
 had probably no superhuman power in them ; 
 for he withdrew them as quickly without satis- 
 faction: and, when the big Carmelite, after read- 
 ing his instructions, transferred the paper to 
 his girdle, the mire seemed again absorbed 
 in his book. He commenced, however, by a
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 307 
 
 series of restless gestures to move his stool 
 as stealthily as a cat nearer and nearer to his 
 neighbour, the monk, thinking himself perfectly 
 unobserved, since Mother Jehanne had now- 
 turned her back to the society in general, as if 
 engaged upon her poor meal, which in truth she 
 scarcely touched. Unobserved he was not, how- 
 ever ; for it was evident to Perrinet that the 
 youthful monkey-bearer, who sat on the ground, 
 with his back placed against one of the legs of the 
 table, and might be supposed to be sleeping as well 
 as the monkey, that lay across his bosom, every 
 now and then opened his eyes, and partially 
 moved his head, as if curiously watching the 
 motions of his master: even the monkey might 
 be supposed also to be playing at " make-believe " 
 in the action of this little scene ; for the animal, 
 too, raised its head, and only when warned by 
 a stealthy sign from the boy leant it back 
 again, but as one who was aware of what was 
 going on, and ready for any emergency. 
 
 Thinking to observe more nearly the curious 
 manoeuvres of these different personages, both 
 two-legged and four, for which he was at a loss 
 to account, and at all events to force the devine- 
 ress to render him an explanation of the scene 
 that had passed in her hovel, Perrinet entered
 
 308 THE LILY OP PARIS. 
 
 the vaulted tavern with Yvon. His appearance, 
 however, was not so unmarked and unobserved 
 as he had hoped, for the young armourer was 
 known to many of the students present, in the 
 exercise of his trade. He was received by a 
 shout of recognition, and a general acclamation 
 of favour. 
 
 " Perrinet Leclerc ! Perrinet Leclerc!" was 
 cried from mouth to mouth, as the young men 
 rose from their seats, or beckoned to him to take 
 place at their table. 
 
 " The brave armourer of the Rue St. Honore!" 
 exclaimed one. 
 
 i( The fabricator and vendor of the best rapiers 
 in Paris ! " cried another, touching the long 
 heavy-hilted sword by his side. 
 
 " "Who would rather give a good blade to a 
 bold youth upon trust, than baulk his humour!" 
 remarked a third. 
 
 "Amicus scholarium!" shouted the grizzle- 
 headed old boy, displaying a knowledge of Latin 
 which might have been envied by Master Cleofas 
 himself. 
 
 " And by St. Christopher we will wear thy 
 good blades, friend Perrinet — ay ! and use them 
 too, spite of edict, ordinance, or command, be it 
 issued by the Provost, or the Constable himself,"
 
 THE LILY OF PAMS. 309 
 
 cried one fellow already flourishing his rapier in 
 the air as if to prove its temper. 
 
 The big Carmelite at this juncture seemed 
 to obey some secret influence that prompted 
 him behind ; for, after turning his head to 
 where Mother Jehanne sat, as if to listen, 
 he all at once thundered forth, like a bomb 
 fired off by a hidden hand, the words, " Ay ! 
 why should the bold students give up their 
 privileges ?" 
 
 " Which are sought to be ravished from them 
 inch by inch,' 1 he added again, after another 
 pause of prompting, which had been filled up by 
 shouts of encouragement from the students at 
 this unexpected address ; " but let them keep 
 their weapons, and they will be able to defend 
 their rights, and avenge the insults put upon the 
 honour of the University." 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! " " Well said ! " " Bravo, fat- 
 sides ! " " Vivat stout old white-mantle ! " were 
 among the shouts that responded to the address 
 of Brother Abdias. 
 
 " And are not attempts made day by day to 
 ravish from them some privilege, until before 
 long all will be stripped from them and they 
 will be left naked?" continued the huge monk, 
 thumping the table before him with his heavy
 
 310 TRK LILY OF PAULS. 
 
 fist — "just as our convents have been stripped 
 of their gold cups, and their precious objects, 
 and their wealth ; and our kitchens have been 
 despoiled until not a capon is left for the delec- 
 tation of the inward man — " 
 
 It is not to be told how far Brother Abdias 
 might have spouted spontaneously upon the ani- 
 mated subject into which he had launched ; for 
 a series of plucks at his robe behind stopped him 
 in the midst of his eloquence ; and after a pause 
 of embarrassment he added, " But this state of 
 things cannot last long. The University is 
 trampled upon. New edicts are in preparation 
 to crush it to the earth. If matters go on so, 
 nought is left you but to cry, ' Down with 
 Armagnac !"' 
 
 " And up with Burgundy!" whispered the 
 voice of Mother Jehanne behind him. 
 
 " And up — " commenced Brother Abdias ; 
 but, accustomed as his heavy mind was to be led 
 by the impulse of others, he paused, as if he 
 feared he might be going too far ; and shaking 
 his head with an embarrassed air, took up the 
 jug before him and emptied the last contents. 
 
 The spark, however, had fallen already into 
 the heap of flax : the spirits of the students 
 were already roused ; and a great flourishing of
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 311 
 
 rapiers and clashing of cups, and shouting and 
 swearing ensued, amidst cries of — " Yes ! Down 
 with Armagnac: he is our enemy." 
 
 Although his own hasty blood, more espe- 
 cially in the present flurried state of his feelings, 
 was easily roused, yet Perrinet was vexed at 
 this appearance of growing tumult, which threat- 
 ened to thwart his ow r n private purposes. The 
 whole pothouse outbreak, however, in spite of 
 the remarks of an inflammatory nature which 
 Brother Abdias, under the control of his 
 prompter, continued to let off in intermittent 
 jerks, like the crackings of a running fire, might 
 have passed off in that useless vapouring, which 
 is characteristic of such youth at all times, had 
 not an incident occurred that turned the atten- 
 tion and the excited feelings of the riotous crew 
 in another direction. 
 
 That distinguished individual, the learned 
 physician of his mightiness the Emperor of 
 Kathay — for no less a personage was the mire — 
 all absorbed as he affected to be in the volume 
 before him, had never ceased, during this whole 
 scene, to move his stool nearer and nearer to the 
 monk, as if involuntarily attracted by a magnet ; 
 and even more zealous did he appear in his 
 efforts, when the desultory harangues of Brother
 
 312 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 Abdias seemed to convince him that the Car- 
 melite was no friend to the existing state of 
 things; while little Master Astaroth his monk 
 key-bearer, had been no less occupied in watch- 
 ing out of his ferocious looking eyes, in spite of 
 the position of sleep which he feigned, the 
 movements of his master. It was at last in ons 
 of the intervals when the burly Carmelite 
 raised his jug to his mouth, with an instinctive 
 movement, and found not what he sought in it, 
 that the quack doctor letting fall his book, con- 
 trived, while feigning to pick it up, adroitly to 
 abstract the paper placed in the monk's girdle. 
 His eyes glistened as if he thought he had 
 obtained a valuable prize. He now hitched his 
 chair further away, as discreetly as hehad pre- 
 viously moved it nearer the monk, as if his 
 object were attained : in his hand he continued 
 to hold the paper. But, at the same time, there 
 took place a series of communications by signs 
 between the boy and the monkey, which seemed 
 no less to have reference to that same scrap, 
 for Astaroth pointed to it frequently, by stealth, 
 and seemed urging the animal to some purpose 
 although he still held him by the neck. At the 
 moment when Cleofas, now returned to his 
 original position, was about to transfer the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 313 
 
 paper to the flat pouch which hung about his 
 waist, the monkey was let loose. The animal 
 darted cunningly at the paper. But Zomba, 
 it would appear, was not as yet a sufficiently dex- 
 terous adept in the art of borrowing unperceived 
 from one's neighbour ; for the movement of the 
 beast was felt by the quack doctor. He started, 
 turned, aimed a blow at the animal, and missed 
 it ; while Zomba in triumph showed his teeth, 
 screeched a hideous screech, and with the 
 paper in its better paw scrambled up the wall, 
 and, seating himself upon a high shelf, began de- 
 liberately to tear the prize to pieces. Foiled in 
 his attempt to catch the ape, the quack doctor 
 sprang up furiously, and, seizing his monkey- 
 bearer by the throat, dragged him up from his 
 position of feigned sleep. 
 
 M This is thy doing, thou imp of darkness — 
 thou young thief," he cried, foaming with rage. 
 
 Astaroth, who seemed no less ferocious with 
 disappointment, struggled and expostulated, and 
 showed his white teeth in anger, in about the 
 same fashion as his cherished beast. 
 
 " But severely shalt thou be punished, mis- 
 creant," continued Cleofas, feeling with one hand 
 among the folds of his robe, as if to seek a dagger ; 
 " thy ears shall pay for this, young slave." 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 THE LILT 01 PARIS. 
 
 As rapidly as he had flown out of the reach of 
 the quack doctor, Zomba now flew down, and, 
 springing upon the arm of Cleofas, bit the hand 
 that held the struggling youth. The quack 
 doctor let go his hold, maddened with rage and 
 pain; and Astaroth darted amidst the students. 
 Clinging to Perrinet, to whom he seemed to have 
 rushed as the most striking in appearance and 
 the most likely to protect him, he cried for help 
 against his master. So bold and reckless was 
 the physiognomy of the wild youth, that there 
 was, perhaps, more of hypocrisy than of reality 
 in this movement of extreme fear. But his 
 screams for aid against his master, who, he de- 
 clared, was about to murder him, obtained the 
 result he probably desired — Perrinet stood be- 
 tween the boy and the enraged mire* 
 
 ct Stand back, Messire," said Cleofas, pale with 
 anger ; " that boy is mine — my servant — my 
 slave ; I have a right to chastise him if I will." 
 
 "How thine, fellow?" exclaimed Perrinet, 
 haughtily. 
 
 Si Mine, since — since I bought him — bought 
 him of his parents," answered the quack doctor 
 sullenly; "mine, to punish as I list; give way, 
 Messire ! " 
 
 " No ; protect me ! " cried the boy, with every
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 315 
 
 appearance of terror. "It is false! I never 
 knew my parents: be stole me: he owned it to 
 me once, in his anger ; and he has ever beaten, 
 tormented, starved me. Save me from his hands! " 
 
 The quack doctor still pressed forward ; and 
 Perrinet still interfered to protect the boy ; 
 when Astaroth, as if a sudden thought had come 
 across him, cried, " Save me from him ; he is a 
 spy, a spy of that Armagnac you said, just now, 
 was your enemy, Messires : he was closeted 
 with the Constable all the afternoon ; and he is 
 come here with no good intent towards you. 
 But now he attempted to steal a paper from a 
 monk, because he hoped he might learn some- 
 thing from it. He is a spy, I say." 
 
 " A spy ! a spy ! " was immediately howled by 
 the students, who closed in thick clusters around 
 the central group. 
 
 The point of the boy seemed gained. Cleofas 
 grew more pale than ever; his eyes glared light- 
 nings at his monkey-bearer : had he reached 
 him, he had evidently murdered him outright. 
 
 " Yes, yes, he is a spy ! " cried Astaroth again. 
 
 "Down with him!" "Kill him!" " To the 
 Seine with the spy!" "Away with him!" 
 " Hang him !" was shouted by all the students. 
 Their howls overpowered any attempt at ex
 
 316 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 postulation urged by the trembling Cleofas. The 
 voice of Mother Jehanne might be heard to cry, 
 " Down with the spy of the Armagnac ; and 
 then down with his employer, the devil in man's 
 hide ! Long live Burgundy !" Profiting by the 
 confusion of the tumult, she disappeared with 
 brother Abdias. To the cries of " Down with 
 the spy of Armagnac!" was added now also those 
 of " Down with the Constable ! We will have 
 no spies in our free University — no destruction 
 of our rights and privileges." 
 
 It was probably only the variety of means 
 proposed for the dispatch of the wretched quack- 
 doctor by sword, cord, and water, that saved 
 his life for the time. But his fate appeared im- 
 minent: drawn swords pressed upon him, while 
 hands held him by the robe and hair. The per- 
 spiration of the agony of fear was on his pale 
 brow. Astaroth glared at him with a look of 
 gratified malice, such as only the prospect of 
 vengeance for a long period of maltreatment 
 could have bestowed upon mortal face. Perrinet, 
 to whom the boy still clung, stood with Yvon 
 unavoidably the centre of the group. In the 
 midst of the cries of "Down with Armagnac! 
 down with his spy !" the noise of arms was heard 
 upon the floor. An officer of the archers of the
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 317 
 
 Provost's guard had entered the room, with a 
 body of about thirty men. 
 
 " In the name of King and Constable," cried 
 the officer, M seize on these fellows who cry 
 treason thus, and drag them off to the cha- 
 telet." 
 
 This command turned away instantly the 
 rapiers from the throat of Cleofas, and caused 
 the students to face round with a howl of in- 
 dignation and execration against the intruding 
 guard. The men-at-arms advanced in obedience 
 to the order of their commander, who, had he 
 not been a very young and headstrong man, 
 would probably not wilfully have thrust his head 
 into such a hornet's nest as a tavern full of stu- 
 dents was likely to prove, or set fire to a train 
 which might lead to the explosion of the whole 
 wrath of the University. The tumult became 
 general: resistance was made by the students 
 by means of sword and arm and club; jugs and 
 plates and trenchers were flung upon the heads 
 of the guard ; presently stools and then tables 
 followed in heavy shower; the men at arms 
 staggered and gave way. Cleofas, the quack- 
 doctor, who had nigh paid his apprenticeship in 
 his new trade so dearly, had fled at the first 
 onset amidst the guard, and contrived to escape 
 p 3
 
 318 THE LILY OF PARIS. 
 
 with no further harm than a heavy contusion on 
 his head from the leg of a table. 
 
 In the midst of this confusion the young 
 officer had seized upon the defenceless Yvon, as 
 a ringleader of the tumult. 
 
 " Let go thy hold, dastard ; it is an innocent 
 youth, without defence, 1 ' cried Perrinet now 
 first mixing in the fray. 
 
 The only reply was a blow of the officer's 
 sword, which wounded the young armourer just 
 above the shoulder. 
 
 The blood of Perrinet was roused ; and, 
 before any further attack could be made, his 
 cutlass was drawn and slashed across the face of 
 the officer. The young captain fell backwards 
 with a shout. The routed men-at-arms could do 
 no more than drag away their wounded leader. 
 The whole mass of students rushed also out of 
 the door, and by the vaulted entrance into the 
 street, in pursuit. Perrinet, Yvon, and the boy 
 Astaroth, were borne along in the throng. Several 
 students burst open the barricade of the shutters 
 with a crash, and leapt over the parapet into the 
 outer air. In an instant the tavern vault was left 
 to the unhappy tavern-keeper and his assistants, 
 who were lamenting over the broken furniture 
 and scattered fragments of utensil?.
 
 THE LILY OF PARIS. 319 
 
 The street, however, had become, as if by 
 magic, the scene of the wildest tumult. The 
 students' cry of war, <l Out, out — up, scholars 
 up — rapiers abroad ! " had been responded to by 
 pouring throngs in disordered attire, rapiers in 
 hand, from almost every house. In an incredibly 
 small space of time, the Rue St. Jacques was 
 invaded by a rushing crowd. The night air 
 rang with shouts and clamour. The fantastic 
 glare of shifting, hurrying torches began to 
 illumine the frantic scene, the red and lurid 
 light of the flaring pitch giving the whole an 
 infernal colouring. The hoarse shouting and 
 struggling of the students was quickly inter- 
 mingled with the shriller croaking of women of 
 the lower classes and of vile profession, who 
 were to be found among the crowd, no one could 
 tell whence or how. The younger student boys 
 leaped, and shouted, and danced, as if engaged in 
 the merriest Saturnalia. Now the crowd ad- 
 vanced upon the retreating men-at-arms, who 
 offered only a feeble resistance ; now stopped, 
 now struggled in waving masses, now fought on 
 their way once more. 
 
 " Rapier law ! The law of retaliation ! 
 shouted a young demagogue, with hoarse voice. 
 " An eye for an eye ! A tooth for a tooth !
 
 320 THE LILY OF PAEIS. 
 
 A blow for a blow ! — and blood for blood ! 
 Look here, my friends, look here ! " And he 
 endeavoured to lift up Perrinet, from whose neck 
 a stream of blood was now trickling, visible 
 in the light of a torch close by. " Vengeance! 
 Down with the guard ! Fling the vile rats into 
 the Seine ! " 
 
 " To the glory of the University and of 
 Aristotle ! " chimed in the grey-haired old boy. 
 " Exhibete vulnera in Foro! " 
 
 The young armourer was caught up in the 
 arms of several of the students, and hailed with 
 acclamations, as if he were a hero and a defender 
 of the rights of the University ; and, unwillingly 
 as he found himself compelled to become the 
 principal actor in this scene of strange triumph, 
 his cheek glowed, and his heart heaved with a 
 strange sensation until then unknown to him. 
 He was thus borne along down the Rue St. 
 Jacques. 
 
 Suddenly a check took place in the vanguard 
 of the rioters. A reinforcement of the Con- 
 stable's private force had arrived to the assistance 
 of the retreating men-at-arms. But the power 
 of the rushing sea of students was still too great. 
 The} T , also, were repulsed. The triumph of 
 the wounded young man was, however, cut 
 p3
 
 THE LILY OF PAULS. 321 
 
 short in the need of all hands to resist the fresh 
 force of the enemy. Perrinet was allowed to 
 find his feet upon the ground, He staggered 
 with a feeling of faintness ; and the crowd 
 rushed on. 
 
 In a short time the street was deserted ; and 
 where so late was agitated tumult, and confu- 
 sion, and the glare of torches, all was dark, 
 except when an anxious head or two appeared 
 peeping out of a narrow upper window with a 
 light ; and all was still save the hoarse murmur 
 of the tumult, now coming more faintly from the 
 distance. 
 
 Perrinet sat upon a stone bench ; the blood 
 still flowed from his wound, but he thought not 
 of it. He had, for the first time, tasted of 
 popular applause and popular triumph ; and a 
 mist of deep emotion was before his eyes — 
 a rushing sound of his beating pulse was in his 
 ears. As the tiger that has once licked blood, 
 was that ardent and excitable mind that had 
 felt the first impulse of a mistaken and bad 
 ambition. 
 
 The kloarek, in spite of some resistance, 
 had detached his vest, and was staunching his 
 wound. 
 
 "It is nothing, good Yvon," said his friend.
 
 322 THE LILY OF PAHIS. 
 
 " Let me be your slave, my master," said the 
 voice of Astaroth, who stood with his monkey 
 by the armourer's side, " and I will avenge you." 
 
 " I will take care of thee, poor boy ! " re- 
 plied Perrinet. 
 
 " Ah ! no more evil thoughts ! " said the 
 kloarek, on one side, as if the good genius of 
 Perrinet were prompting him. 
 
 t( Revenge is sweet on the oppressor ! " urged 
 Astaroth on the other, as though his evil genius 
 were also there. 
 
 " "Tis well ! " murmured Perrinet, faintly, 
 his weakness from loss of blood confusing the 
 ideas conveyed by these two conflicting in- 
 fluences. " Revenge ! Odette ! But no, I will 
 never be a traitor!" With these words he 
 swooned. 
 
 The bell tolled midnight from the neighbour- 
 ing church of St. Andre. The day had closed 
 as it had commenced in that unhappy city, in 
 discontent, riot, and bloodshed. 
 
 END OF VOL I, 
 
 R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.
 
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