tia. This position had been one of some importance in the
Middle Ages, at the time when the Vosges were beset with partisans
from the two countries, always ready to renew border hostilities,
the everlasting plague of all frontiers. Upon a cliff overlooking the
village were situated the ruins which had given the village its name;
it owed it to the birds of prey [falcons, in French: 'faucons'], the
habitual guests of the perpendicular rocks. To render proper justice to
whom it belongs, we should add that the proprietors of La Fauconnerie
had made it a point at all times to justify this appellation by customs
more warlike than hospitable; but for some time the souvenirs of their
feudal prowess had slept with their race under the ruins of the manor;
the chateau had fallen without the hamlet extending over its ruins;
from a bourg of some importance La Fauconnerie had come down to a small
village, and had nothing remarkable about it but the melancholy ruins of
the chateau.

It would be impossible to imagine anything more miserably prosaic than
the houses that bordered the road, in regular order; their one story
with its thatched roof blackened by rain; the sorry garden surrounded by
a little low wall and presenting as vegetables patches of cabbage and a
few rows of beans, gave an idea of the poverty of its inhabitants. Save
the church, which the Bishop of St.-Die had caused to be built, and the
manse that had naturally shared this fortunate privilege, only one house
rose above the condition of a thatched cottage; this was the tavern
called 'La Femme-sans-Tete', and kept by Madame Gobillot, an energetic
woman, who did not suggest in the least the name of her establishment,
"The Headless Woman."

A large sign shared with the inevitable bunch of juniper, the honor
of decorating the entrance and justified an appellation one might have
regarded as disrespectful to the fair sex. The original design had been
repainted in dazzling colors by the artist charged with restoring the
church. This alliance of the profane with the sacred had, it is true,
scandalized the parish priest, but he did not dare say a word too much,
as Madame Gobillot was one of his most important parishioners. A
woman in a rose-colored dress and large panniers, standing upon very
high-heeled shoes, displayed upon this sign the rejuvenated costume
of 1750; an enormous green fan, which she held in her hand, entirely
concealed her face, and it was through this capric