"My dear，" continued Fleur-de-Lys， with decided sharpness， "You will get yourself taken up by the sumptuary police for your gilded girdle.""Little one， little one；" resumed la Christeuil， with an implacable smile， "if you were to put respectable sleeves upon your arms they would get less sunburned."It was， in truth， a spectacle worthy of a more intelligent spectator than Phoebus， to see how these beautiful maidens， with their envenomed and angry tongues， wound， serpent-like， and glided and writhed around the street dancer. They were cruel and graceful； they searched and rummaged maliciously in her poor and silly toilet of spangles and tinsel. There was no end to their laughter， irony， and humiliation. Sarcasms rained down upon the gypsy， and haughty condescension and malevolent looks. One would have thought they were young Roman dames thrusting golden pins into the breast of a beautiful slave. One would have pronounced them elegant grayhounds， circling， with inflated nostrils， round a poor woodland fawn， whom the glance of their master forbade them to devour.
After all， what was a miserable dancer on the public squares in the presence of these high-born maidens？ They seemed to take no heed of her presence， and talked of her aloud， to her face， as of something unclean， abject， and yet， at the same time， passably pretty.
The gypsy was not insensible to these pin-pricks. From time to time a flush of shame， a flash of anger inflamed her eyes or her cheeks； with disdain she made that little grimace with which the reader is already familiar， but she remained motionless； she fixed on Phoebus a sad， sweet， resigned look.
There was also happiness and tenderness in that gaze. One would have said that she endured for fear of being expelled.
Phoebus laughed， and took the gypsy's part with a mixture of impertinence and pity.
"Let them talk， little one！" he repeated， jingling his golden spurs. "No doubt your toilet is a little extravagant and wild， but what difference does that make with such a charming damsel as yourself？""Good gracious！" exclaimed the blonde Gaillefontaine， drawing up her swan-like throat， with a bitter smile. "I see that messieurs the archers of the king's police easily take fire at the handsome eyes of gypsies！""Why not？" said Phoebus.
At this reply uttered carelessly by the captain， like a stray stone， whose fall one does not even watch， Colombe began to laugh， as well as Diane， Amelotte， and Fleur-de-Lys， into whose eyes at the same time a tear started.
The gypsy， who had dropped her eyes on the floor at the words of Colombe de Gaillefontaine， raised them beaming with joy and pride and fixed them once more on Phoebus. She was very beautiful at that moment.
The old dame， who was watching this scene， felt offended， without understanding why.
"Holy Virgin！" she suddenly exclaimed， "what is it moving about my legs？ Ah！ the villanous beast！"It was the goat， who had just arrived， in search of his mistress， and who， in dashing towards the latter， had begun by entangling his horns in the pile of stuffs which the noble dame's garments heaped up on her feet when she was seated.
This created a diversion. The gypsy disentangled his horns without uttering a word.
"Oh！ here's the little goat with golden hoofs！" exclaimed Bérangère， dancing with joy.
The gypsy crouched down on her knees and leaned her cheek against the fondling head of the goat. One would have said that she was asking pardon for having quitted it thus.
Meanwhile， Diane had bent down to Colombe's ear.
"Ah！ good heavens！ why did not I think of that sooner？
'Tis the gypsy with the goat. They say she is a sorceress， and that her goat executes very miraculous tricks.""Well！" said Colombe， "the goat must now amuse us in its turn， and perform a miracle for us."Diane and Colombe eagerly addressed the gypsy.
