h a dagger in
his neck, the girl pretending to be dead, and the goat all in a fright.
'Pretty work!' I say, 'I shall have to wash that floor for more than a
fortnight. It will have to be scraped; it will be a terrible job.' They
carried off the officer, poor young man, and the wench with her bosom
all bare. But wait, the worst is that on the next day, when I wanted to
take the crown to buy tripe, I found a dead leaf in its place."

The old woman ceased. A murmur of horror ran through the audience.

"That phantom, that goat,--all smacks of magic," said one of Gringoire's
neighbors.

"And that dry leaf!" added another.

"No doubt about it," joined in a third, "she is a witch who has dealings
with the surly monk, for the purpose of plundering officers."

Gringoire himself was not disinclined to regard this as altogether
alarming and probable.

"Goody Falourdel," said the president majestically, "have you nothing
more to communicate to the court?"

"No, monseigneur," replied the crone, "except that the report has
described my house as a hovel and stinking; which is an outrageous
fashion of speaking. The houses on the bridge are not imposing, because
there are such multitudes of people; but, nevertheless, the butchers
continue to dwell there, who are wealthy folk, and married to very
proper and handsome women."

The magistrate who had reminded Gringoire of a crocodile rose,--

"Silence!" said he. "I pray the gentlemen not to lose sight of the fact
that a dagger was found on the person of the accused. Goody Falourdel,
have you brought that leaf into which the crown which the demon gave you
was transformed?

"Yes, monseigneur," she replied; "I found it again. Here it is."

A bailiff banded the dead leaf to the crocodile, who made a doleful
shake of the head, and passed it on to the president, who gave it to the
procurator of the king in the ecclesiastical court, and thus it made the
circuit of the hail.

"It is a birch leaf," said Master Jacques Charmolue. "A fresh proof of
magic."

A counsellor took up the word.

"Witness, two men went upstairs together in your house: the black man,
whom you first saw disappear and afterwards swimming in the Seine, with
his priestly garments, and the officer. Which of the two handed you
the crown?" The old woman pondered for a moment and then said,--"The
officer."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

"Ah!" thought Gringoire, "this makes some doubt in my mind."

But Master