ake my way; but
I'm ready to settle here, near you."

Just then the fastening of a window creaked in a room on the first
floor, directly below Pierrette's attic. The girl showed the utmost
terror, and said to Brigaut, quickly:--

"Run away!"

The lad jumped like a frightened frog to a bend in the street caused
by the projection of a mill just where the square opens into the main
thoroughfare; but in spite of his agility his hob-nailed shoes echoed on
the stones with a sound easily distinguished from the music of the mill,
and no doubt heard by the person who opened the window.

That person was a woman. No man would have torn himself from the comfort
of a morning nap to listen to a minstrel in a jacket; none but a maid
awakes to songs of love. Not only was this woman a maid, but she was an
old maid. When she had opened her blinds with the furtive motion of
the bat, she looked in all directions, but saw nothing, and only heard,
faintly, the flying footfalls of the lad. Can there be anything more
dreadful than the matutinal apparition of an ugly old maid at her
window? Of all the grotesque sights which amuse the eyes of travellers
in country towns, that is the most unpleasant. It is too repulsive to
laugh at. This particular old maid, whose ear was so keen, was denuded
of all the adventitious aids, of whatever kind, which she employed as
embellishments; her false front and her collarette were lacking; she
wore that horrible little bag of black silk on which old women insist
on covering their skulls, and it was now revealed beneath the night-cap
which had been pushed aside in sleep. This rumpled condition gave a
menacing expression to the head, such as painters bestow on witches.
The temples, ears, and nape of the neck, were disclosed in all their
withered horror,--the wrinkles being marked in scarlet lines that
contrasted with the would-be white of the bed-gown which was tied round
her neck by a narrow tape. The gaping of this garment revealed a breast
to be likened only to that of an old peasant woman who cares nothing
about her personal ugliness. The fleshless arm was like a stick on which
a bit of stuff was hung. Seen at her window, this spinster seemed
tall from the length and angularity of her face, which recalled the
exaggerated proportions of certain Swiss heads. The character of their
countenance--the features being marked by a total want of harmony--was
that of hardness in the lines, sharpness in the tones; wh