"Come， little cousin，" she said to him， plucking him by the sleeve， in order to speak in his ear， "Look at her， do！ see her stoop.""Yes， truly，" replied the young man， and fell back into his glacial and absent-minded silence.
A moment later， he was obliged to bend down again， and Dame Aloise said to him，--"Have you ever beheld a more gay and charming face than that of your betrothed？ Can one be more white and blonde？ are not her hands perfect？ and that neck--does it not assume all the curves of the swan in ravishing fashion？ How I envy you at times！ and how happy you are to be a man， naughty libertine that you are！ Is not my Fleur-de-Lys adorably beautiful， and are you not desperately in love with her？""Of course，" he replied， still thinking of something else.
"But do say something，" said Madame Aloise， suddenly giving his shoulder a push； "you have grown very timid."We can assure our readers that timidity was neither the captain's virtue nor his defect. But he made an effort to do what was demanded of him.
"Fair cousin，" he said， approaching Fleur-de-Lys， "what is the subject of this tapestry work which you are fashioning？'
"Fair cousin，" responded Fleur-de-Lys， in an offended tone， "I have already told you three times. 'Tis the grotto of Neptune."It was evident that Fleur-de-Lys saw much more clearly than her mother through the captain's cold and absent-minded manner. He felt the necessity of making some conversation.
"And for whom is this Neptunerie destined？"
"For the Abbey of Saint-Antoine des Champs，" answered Fleur-de-Lys， without raising her eyes.
The captain took up a corner of the tapestry.
"Who， my fair cousin， is this big gendarme， who is puffing out his cheeks to their full extent and blowing a trumpet？""'Tis Triton，" she replied.
There was a rather pettish intonation in Fleur-de-Lys's--laconic words. The young man understood that it was indispensable that he should whisper something in her ear， a commonplace， a gallant compliment， no matter what. Accordingly he bent down， but he could find nothing in his imagination more tender and personal than this，--"Why does your mother always wear that surcoat with armorial designs， like our grandmothers of the time of Charles VII.？ Tell her， fair cousin， that 'tis no longer the fashion， and that the hinge (gond) and the laurel (laurier) embroidered on her robe give her the air of a walking mantlepiece.
In truth， people no longer sit thus on their banners， Iassure you."
Fleur-de-Lys raised her beautiful eyes， full of reproach， "Is that all of which you can assure me？" she said， in a low voice.
In the meantime， Dame Aloise， delighted to see them thus bending towards each other and whispering， said as she toyed with the clasps of her prayer-book，--"Touching picture of love！"
The captain， more and more embarrassed， fell back upon the subject of the tapestry，--"'Tis， in sooth， a charming work！"he exclaimed.
Whereupon Colombe de Gaillefontaine， another beautiful blonde， with a white skin， dressed to the neck in blue damask， ventured a timid remark which she addressed to Fleur-de-Lys， in the hope that the handsome captain would reply to it， "My dear Gondelaurier， have you seen the tapestries of the H？tel de la Roche-Guyon？""Is not that the hotel in which is enclosed the garden of the Lingère du Louvre？" asked Diane de Christeuil with a laugh； for she had handsome teeth， and consequently laughed on every occasion.
"And where there is that big， old tower of the ancient wall of Paris，" added Amelotte de Montmichel， a pretty fresh and curly-headed brunette， who had a habit of sighing just as the other laughed， without knowing why.
"My dear Colombe，" interpolated Dame Aloise， "do you not mean the hotel which belonged to Monsieur de Bacqueville， in the reign of King Charles VI.？ there are indeed many superb high warp tapestries there.""Charles VI.！ Charles VI.！" muttered the young captain， twirling his moustache. "Good heavens！ what old things the good dame does remember！"Madame de Gondelaurier continued， "Fine tapestries， in truth. A work so esteemed that it passes as unrivalled."At that moment Bérangère de Champchevrier， a slender little maid of seven years， who was peering into the square through the trefoils of the balcony， exclaimed， "Oh！ look， fair Godmother Fleur-de-Lys， at that pretty dancer who is dancing on the pavement and playing the tambourine in the midst of the loutish bourgeois！"The sonorous vibration of a tambourine was， in fact， audible.
"Some gypsy from Bohemia，" said Fleur-de-Lys， turning carelessly toward the square.
