animal,—the fruit of a Jew and a sow; something not Christian, in short, which ought to be thrown into the fire or into the water."
"I really hope," resumed la Gaultiére, "that nobody will apply for it."
" Ah, good heavens! " exclaimed Agnés; "those poor nurses yonder in the foundling asylum, which forms the lower end of the lane as you go to the river, just beside Monseigneur the bishop! what if this little monster were to be carried to them to suckle? I'd rather give suck to a vampire."
"How innocent that poor la Herme is! " resumed Jehanne; " don't you see, sister, that this little monster is at least four years old, and that he would have less appetite for your breast than for a turnspit."
The "little monster" we should find it difficult ourselves to describe him otherwise, was, in fact, not a new-born child. It was a very angular and very lively little mass, imprisoned in its linen sack, stamped with the cipher of Messire Guillaume Chartier, then bishop of Paris, with a head projecting. That head was deformed enough; one beheld only a forest of red hair, one eye, a mouth, and teeth. The eye wept, the mouth cried, and the teeth seemed to ask only to be allowed to bite. The whole struggled in the sack, to the great consternation of the crowd, which increased and was renewed incessantly around it.
Dame Alo'ise de Gondelaurier, a rich and noble woman, who held by the hand a pretty girl about five or six years of age, and dragged a long veil about, suspended to the golden horn of her headdress, halted as she passed the wooden bed, and gazed for a moment at the wretched creature, while her charming little daughter, Fleur-de-Lys de Gondelaurier, spelled out with her tiny, pretty finger, the permanent inscription attached to the wooden bed: "Foundlings."
"Really," said the. dame, turning away in disgust, "I thought that they only exposed children here."
She turned her back, throwing into the basin a silver florin, which rang among the liards, and made the poor goodwives of the chapel of Ètienne Haudry open their eyes.
