west by the huge basilica of Notre-Dame casting its cold gloom
over the whole plot as the sun moved. Then, as now, there was not in all
Paris a more deserted spot, a more solemn or more melancholy prospect.
The noise of waters, the chanting of priests, or the piping of the wind,
were the only sounds that disturbed this wilderness, where lovers would
sometimes meet to discuss their secrets when the church-folds and clergy
were safe in church at the services.

One evening in April in the year 1308, Tirechair came home in a
remarkably bad temper. For three days past everything had been in good
order on the King's highway. Now, as an officer of the peace, nothing
annoyed him so much as to feel himself useless. He flung down his
halbert in a rage, muttered inarticulate words as he pulled off his
doublet, half red and half blue, and slipped on a shabby camlet jerkin.
After helping himself from the bread-box to a hunch of bread, and
spreading it with butter, he seated himself on a bench, looked round
at his four whitewashed walls, counted the beams of the ceiling, made a
mental inventory of the household goods hanging from the nails, scowled
at the neatness which left him nothing to complain of, and looked at his
wife, who said not a word as she ironed the albs and surplices from the
sacristy.

"By my halidom," he said, to open the conversation, "I cannot think,
Jacqueline, where you go to catch your apprenticed maids. Now, here is
one," he went on, pointing to a girl who was folding an altar-cloth,
clumsily enough, it must be owned, "who looks to me more like a damsel
rather free of her person than a sturdy country wench. Her hands are as
white as a fine lady's! By the Mass! and her hair smells of essences, I
verily believe, and her hose are as find as a queen's. By the two horns
of Old Nick, matters please me but ill as I find them here."

The girl colored, and stole a look at Jacqueline, full of alarm not
unmixed with pride. The mistress answered her glance with a smile, laid
down her work, and turned to her husband.

"Come now," said she, in a sharp tone, "you need not harry me. Are you
going to accuse me next of some underhand tricks? Patrol your roads
as much as you please, but do not meddle here with anything but what
concerns your sleeping in peace, drinking your wine, and eating what
I set before you, or else, I warn you, I will have no more to do with
keeping you healthy and happy. Let any one find me a happie