so confused that he did not see him. The new comer
advanced another step.

"Jupiter," said he, "my dear Jupiter!"

The other did not hear.

At last, the tall blond, driven out of patience, shrieked almost in his
face,--

"Michel Giborne!"

"Who calls me?" said Jupiter, as though awakened with a start.

"I," replied the person clad in black.

"Ah!" said Jupiter.

"Begin at once," went on the other. "Satisfy the populace; I undertake
to appease the bailiff, who will appease monsieur the cardinal."

Jupiter breathed once more.

"Messeigneurs the bourgeois," he cried, at the top of his lungs to the
crowd, which continued to hoot him, "we are going to begin at once."

"_Evoe Jupiter! Plaudite cives_! All hail, Jupiter! Applaud, citizens!"
shouted the scholars.

"Noel! Noel! good, good," shouted the people.

The hand clapping was deafening, and Jupiter had already withdrawn under
his tapestry, while the hall still trembled with acclamations.

In the meanwhile, the personage who had so magically turned the tempest
into dead calm, as our old and dear Corneille puts it, had modestly
retreated to the half-shadow of his pillar, and would, no doubt, have
remained invisible there, motionless, and mute as before, had he not
been plucked by the sleeve by two young women, who, standing in the
front row of the spectators, had noticed his colloquy with Michel
Giborne-Jupiter.

"Master," said one of them, making him a sign to approach. "Hold your
tongue, my dear Lienarde," said her neighbor, pretty, fresh, and very
brave, in consequence of being dressed up in her best attire. "He is not
a clerk, he is a layman; you must not say master to him, but messire."

"Messire," said Lienarde.

The stranger approached the railing.

"What would you have of me, damsels?" he asked, with alacrity.

"Oh! nothing," replied Lienarde, in great confusion; "it is my neighbor,
Gisquette la Gencienne, who wishes to speak with you."

"Not so," replied Gisquette, blushing; "it was Lienarde who called you
master; I only told her to say messire."

The two young girls dropped their eyes. The man, who asked nothing
better than to enter into conversation, looked at them with a smile.

"So you have nothing to say to me, damsels?"

"Oh! nothing at all," replied Gisquette.

"Nothing," said Lienarde.

The tall, light-haired young man retreated a step; but the two curious
maidens had no mind to let slip their prize.

"Messire," said Gisqu