The Exiles | Page 4

the river. From one
you could only see the shores of the Seine, and the three barren islands,
of which two were subsequently joined together to form the Ile Saint-
Louis; the third was the Ile de Louviers. From the other could be seen,
down a vista of the Port-Saint-Landry, the buildings on the Greve, the
Bridge of Notre-Dame, with its houses, and the tall towers of the
Louvre, but lately built by Philippe-Auguste to overlook the then poor
and squalid town of Paris, which suggests so many imaginary marvels
to the fancy of modern romancers.
The ground floor of Tirechair's house consisted of a large hall, where
his wife's business was carried on, through which the lodgers were
obliged to pass on their way to their own rooms up a stairway like a
mill-ladder. Behind this were a kitchen and a bedroom, with a view
over the Seine. A tiny garden, reclaimed from the waters, displayed at
the foot of this modest dwelling its beds of cabbages and onions, and a

few rose-bushes, sheltered by palings, forming a sort of hedge. A little
structure of lath and mud served as a kennel for a big dog, the
indispensable guardian of so lonely a dwelling. Beyond this kennel was
a little plot, where the hens cackled whose eggs were sold to the
Canons. Here and there on this patch of earth, muddy or dry according
to the whimsical Parisian weather, a few trees grew, constantly lashed
by the wind, and teased and broken by the passer-by--willows, reeds,
and tall grasses.
The Eyot, the Seine, the landing-place, the house, were all
overshadowed on the west by the huge basilica of Notre-Dame casting
its cold gloom over the whole plot as the sun moved. Then, as now,
there was not in all Paris a more deserted spot, a more solemn or more
melancholy prospect. The noise of waters, the chanting of priests, or
the piping of the wind, were the only sounds that disturbed this
wilderness, where lovers would sometimes meet to discuss their secrets
when the church-folds and clergy were safe in church at the services.

One evening in April in the year 1308, Tirechair came home in a
remarkably bad temper. For three days past everything had been in
good order on the King's highway. Now, as an officer of the peace,
nothing annoyed him so much as to feel himself useless. He flung
down his halbert in a rage, muttered inarticulate words as he pulled off
his doublet, half red and half blue, and slipped on a shabby camlet
jerkin. After helping himself from the bread-box to a hunch of bread,
and spreading it with butter, he seated himself on a bench, looked
round at his four whitewashed walls, counted the beams of the ceiling,
made a mental inventory of the household goods hanging from the nails,
scowled at the neatness which left him nothing to complain of, and
looked at his wife, who said not a word as she ironed the albs and
surplices from the sacristy.
"By my halidom," he said, to open the conversation, "I cannot think,
Jacqueline, where you go to catch your apprenticed maids. Now, here is
one," he went on, pointing to a girl who was folding an altar-cloth,
clumsily enough, it must be owned, "who looks to me more like a
damsel rather free of her person than a sturdy country wench. Her
hands are as white as a fine lady's! By the Mass! and her hair smells of
essences, I verily believe, and her hose are as find as a queen's. By the

two horns of Old Nick, matters please me but ill as I find them here."
The girl colored, and stole a look at Jacqueline, full of alarm not
unmixed with pride. The mistress answered her glance with a smile,
laid down her work, and turned to her husband.
"Come now," said she, in a sharp tone, "you need not harry me. Are
you going to accuse me next of some underhand tricks? Patrol your
roads as much as you please, but do not meddle here with anything but
what concerns your sleeping in peace, drinking your wine, and eating
what I set before you, or else, I warn you, I will have no more to do
with keeping you healthy and happy. Let any one find me a happier
man in all the town," she went on, with a scolding grimace. "He has
silver in his purse, a gable over the Seine, a stout halbert on one hand,
an honest wife on the other, a house as clean and smart as a new pin!
And he growls like a pilgrim smarting from Saint Anthony's fire!"
"Hey day!" exclaimed the sergeant of the watch, "do you fancy,
Jacqueline, that I