The idiot appeared delighted, for there was no doubt that he thought
more of his nickname than he did of his dress, and the next day he made
his appearance in the village square without his petticoats and dressed
as a man. He had taken a pair of trousers, a coat and a hat, from his
guardian's clothes-press, and this created quite a revolution in the
neighborhood, for the people, who had been in the habit of smiling at
him kindly when he was dressed as a woman, looked at him in astonishment
and almost in fear, while the indulgent could not help laughing, and
visibly making fun of him.

The involuntary hostility of some, and the too evident ridicule of
others, the disagreeable surprise of all, were too palpable for him not
to see it, and to be hurt by it, and it was still worse when a street
urchin said to him in a jeering voice, as he danced round him:

"Oh! oh! _Mademoiselle_, you wear trousers! Oh! oh! _Mademoiselle_!"

And it grew worse and worse, when a whole band of these vagabonds were
on his heels, hooting and yelling after him, as if he had been somebody
in a masquerading dress, during the carnival.

It was quite certain that the unfortunate creature looked much more as
if he were in a disguise now than he had done formerly. By dint of
living like a girl, and by even exaggerating the feminine walk and
manners, he had totally lost all masculine looks and ways. His smooth
face, his long flax like hair, required a cap with ribbons, and became a
caricature under the high chimney-pot hat of the old doctor, his
grandson.

_Mademoiselle's_ shoulders, and especially her swelling stern danced