t Paquette nothing but a bit
of embroidery and toy-making which did not prevent the little one from
growing very large and remaining very poor. They both dwelt at Reims,
on the river front, Rue de Folle-Peine. Mark this: For I believe it
was this which brought misfortune to Paquette. In '61, the year of the
coronation of our King Louis XI. whom God preserve! Paquette was so gay
and so pretty that she was called everywhere by no other name than "la
Chantefleurie"--blossoming song. Poor girl! She had handsome teeth, she
was fond of laughing and displaying them. Now, a maid who loves to laugh
is on the road to weeping; handsome teeth ruin handsome eyes. So she was
la Chantefleurie. She and her mother earned a precarious living;
they had been very destitute since the death of the minstrel; their
embroidery did not bring them in more than six farthings a week, which
does not amount to quite two eagle liards. Where were the days
when Father Guybertant had earned twelve sous parisian, in a single
coronation, with a song? One winter (it was in that same year of '61),
when the two women had neither fagots nor firewood, it was very cold,
which gave la Chantefleurie such a fine color that the men called
her Paquette!* and many called her Paquerette!** and she was
ruined.--Eustache, just let me see you bite that cake if you dare!--We
immediately perceived that she was ruined, one Sunday when she came to
church with a gold cross about her neck. At fourteen years of age! do
you see? First it was the young Vicomte de Cormontreuil, who has his
bell tower three leagues distant from Reims; then Messire Henri
de Triancourt, equerry to the King; then less than that, Chiart de
Beaulion, sergeant-at-arms; then, still descending, Guery Aubergeon,
carver to the King; then, Mace de Frepus, barber to monsieur the
dauphin; then, Thevenin le Moine, King's cook; then, the men growing
continually younger and less noble, she fell to Guillaume Racine,
minstrel of the hurdy gurdy and to Thierry de Mer, lamplighter. Then,
poor Chantefleurie, she belonged to every one: she had reached the last
sou of her gold piece. What shall I say to you, my damoiselles? At the
coronation, in the same year, '61, 'twas she who made the bed of the
king of the debauchees! In the same year!"

* Ox-eye daisy.

** Easter daisy.

Mahiette sighed, and wiped away a tear which trickled from her eyes.

"This is no very extraordinary history," said Gervaise, "a