The Exiles | Page 6

a wizard
watching for the hour when he shall mount his broomstick; the other
old rogue certainly makes some use of the poor boy for his black art.
My house stands too close to the river as it is, and that risk of ruin is
bad enough without bringing down fire from heaven, or the love affairs
of a countess. I have spoken. Do not rebel."
In spite of her sway in the house, Jacqueline stood stupefied as she
listened to the edict fulminated against his lodgers by the sergeant of
the watch. She mechanically looked up at the window of the room
inhabited by the old man, and shivered with horror as she suddenly
caught sight of the gloomy, melancholy face, and the piercing eye that
so affected her husband, accustomed as he was to dealing with
criminals.
At that period, great and small, priests and laymen, all trembled before
the idea of any supernatural power. The word "magic" was as powerful
as leprosy to root up feelings, break social ties, and freeze piety in the
most generous soul. It suddenly struck the constable's wife that she had
never, in fact, seen either of her lodgers exercising any human function.
Though the younger man's voice was as sweet and melodious as the
tones of a flute, she so rarely heard it that she was tempted to think his
silence the result of a spell. As she recalled the strange beauty of that
pink-and-white face, and saw in memory the fine hair and moist
brilliancy of those eyes, she believed that they were indeed the artifices
of the Devil. She remembered that for days at a time she had never
heard the slightest sound from either room. Where were the strangers
during all those hours?

Suddenly the most singular circumstances recurred to her mind. She
was completely overmastered by fear, and could even discern
witchcraft in the rich lady's interest in the young Godefroid, a poor
orphan who had come from Flanders to study at the University of Paris.
She hastily put her hand into one of her pockets, pulled out four livres
of Tournay in large silver coinage, and looked at the pieces with an
expression of avarice mingled with terror.
"That, at any rate, is not false coin," said she, showing the silver to her
husband. "Besides," she went on, "how can I turn them out after taking
next year's rent paid in advance?"
"You had better inquire of the Dean of the Chapter," replied Tirechair.
"Is not it his business to tell us how we should deal with these
extraordinary persons?"
"Ay, truly extraordinary," cried Jacqueline. "To think of their cunning;
coming here under the very shadow of Notre-Dame! Still," she went on,
"or ever I ask the Dean, why not warn that fair and noble lady of the
risk she runs?"
As she spoke, Jacqueline went into the house with her husband, who
had not missed a mouthful. Tirechair, as a man grown old in the tricks
of his trade, affected to believe that the strange lady was in fact a
work-girl; still, this assumed indifference could not altogether cloak the
timidity of a courtier who respects a royal incognity. At this moment
six was striking by the clock of Saint-Denis du Pas, a small church that
stood between Notre-Dame and the Port-Saint-Landry--the first church
erected in Paris, on the very spot where Saint-Denis was laid on the
gridiron, as chronicles tell. The hour flew from steeple to tower all over
the city. Then suddenly confused shouts were heard on the left bank of
the Seine, behind Notre-Dame, in the quarter where the schools of the
University harbored their swarms.
At this signal, Jacqueline's elder lodger began to move about his room.
The sergeant, his wife, and the strange lady listened while he opened
and shut his door, and the old man's heavy step was heard on the steep
stair. The constable's suspicions gave such interest to the advent of this
personage, that the lady was startled as she observed the strange
expression of the two countenances before her. Referring the terrors of
this couple to the youth she was protecting--as was natural in a
lover--the young lady awaited, with some uneasiness, the event thus

heralded by the fears of her so-called master and mistress.
The old man paused for a moment on the threshold to scrutinize the
three persons in the room, and seemed to be looking for his young
companion. This glance of inquiry, unsuspicious as it was, agitated the
three. Indeed, nobody, not even the stoutest man, could deny that
Nature had bestowed exceptional powers on this being, who seemed
almost supernatural. Though his eyes were somewhat deeply shaded by
the wide sockets fringed with long eyebrows, they were set, like a kite's
eyes, in