Liénarde lowered her eyes modestly. Gisquette glanced at
her and did the same. He continued, with a smile,--

"It was a very pleasant thing to see. To-day it is a morality
made expressly for Madame the Demoiselle of Flanders."

"Will they sing shepherd songs?" inquired Gisquette.

"Fie!" said the stranger, "in a morality? you must not
confound styles. If it were a farce, well and good."

"That is a pity," resumed Gisquette. "That day, at the
Ponceau Fountain, there were wild men and women, who
fought and assumed many aspects, as they sang little motets
and bergerettes."

"That which is suitable for a legate," returned the stranger,
with a good deal of dryness, "is not suitable for a princess."

"And beside them," resumed Liénarde, "played many brass
instruments, making great melodies."

"And for the refreshment of the passers-by," continued
Gisquette, "the fountain spouted through three mouths,
wine, milk, and hippocrass, of which every one drank who
wished."

"And a little below the Ponceau, at the Trinity," pursued
Liénarde, "there was a passion performed, and without
any speaking."