ette, with the impetuosity of an open sluice, or
of a woman who has made up her mind, "do you know that soldier who is to
play the part of Madame the Virgin in the mystery?"

"You mean the part of Jupiter?" replied the stranger.

"He! yes," said Lienarde, "isn't she stupid? So you know Jupiter?"

"Michel Giborne?" replied the unknown; "yes, madam."

"He has a fine beard!" said Lienarde.

"Will what they are about to say here be fine?" inquired Gisquette,
timidly.

"Very fine, mademoiselle," replied the unknown, without the slightest
hesitation.

"What is it to be?" said Lienarde.

"'The Good Judgment of Madame the Virgin,'--a morality, if you please,
damsel."

"Ah! that makes a difference," responded Lienarde.

A brief silence ensued--broken by the stranger.

"It is a perfectly new morality, and one which has never yet been
played."

"Then it is not the same one," said Gisquette, "that was given two years
ago, on the day of the entrance of monsieur the legate, and where three
handsome maids played the parts--"

"Of sirens," said Lienarde.

"And all naked," added the young man.

Lienarde lowered her eyes modestly. Gisquette glanced at her and did the
same. He continued, with a smile,--

"It was a very pleasant thing to see. To-day it is a morality made
expressly for Madame the Demoiselle of Flanders."

"Will they sing shepherd songs?" inquired Gisquette.

"Fie!" said the stranger, "in a morality? you must not confound styles.
If it were a farce, well and good."

"That is a pity," resumed Gisquette. "That day, at the Ponceau Fountain,
there were wild men and women, who fought and assumed many aspects, as
they sang little motets and bergerettes."

"That which is suitable for a legate," returned the stranger, with a
good deal of dryness, "is not suitable for a princess."

"And beside them," resumed Lienarde, "played many brass instruments,
making great melodies."

"And for the refreshment of the passers-by," continued Gisquette, "the
fountain spouted through three mouths, wine, milk, and hippocrass, of
which every one drank who wished."

"And a little below the Ponceau, at the Trinity," pursued Lienarde,
"there was a passion performed, and without any speaking."

"How well I remember that!" exclaimed Gisquette; "God on the cross,
and the two thieves on the right and the left." Here the young gossips,
growing warm at the memory of the entrance of monsieur the legate, both
began to talk at once