question.

"In that case, messire," she resumed, "would you have the
courtesy to explain to me--"

"What they are about to say?" interrupted Gringoire.
"Well, listen."

"No," said Gisquette, "but what they have said so far."

Gringoire started, like a man whose wound has been probed
to the quick.

"A plague on the stupid and dull-witted little girl!" he
muttered, between his teeth.

From that moment forth, Gisquette was nothing to him.

In the meantime, the actors had obeyed his injunction, and
the public, seeing that they were beginning to speak again,
began once more to listen, not without having lost many
beauties in the sort of soldered joint which was formed
between the two portions of the piece thus abruptly cut
short. Gringoire commented on it bitterly to himself.
Nevertheless, tranquillity was gradually restored, the scholar held
his peace, the mendicant counted over some coins in his hat,
and the piece resumed the upper hand.

It was, in fact, a very fine work, and one which, as it seems
to us, might be put to use to-day, by the aid of a little