which pleased them greatly. My husband, who is sworn bookseller told me so."
"It was at the Petit Bourbon," replied Gervaise, with no less spirit, "and this is what monsieur the cardinal's procurator presented to them: twelve double quarts of hippocras, white, claret, and red; twenty-four boxes of double Lyons marchpane, gilded; as many torches, worth two livres a piece; and six demi-queues[1] of Beaune wine, white and claret, the best that could be found. I have it from my husband, who is a cinquantenier,[2] at the Parloir-aux Bourgeois, and who was this morning comparing the Flemish ambassadors with those of Prester John and the Emperor of Trebizond, who came from Mesopotamia to Paris, under the last king, and who wore rings in their ears."
"So true is it that they supped at the Hôtel-de-Ville," replied Oudardej but little affected by this catalogue, "that such a triumph of viands and comfits has never been seen."
"I tell you that they were served by Le Sec, sergeant of the city, at the Hotel du Petit-Bourbon, and that that is where you are mistaken."
"At the Hôtel-de-Ville, I tell you!"
"At the Petit-Bourbon, my dear! and they had illuminated with magic glasses the word Hope, which is written on the grand portal."
"At the Hôtel-de-Ville! At the Hôtel-de-Ville! And Husson-le-Voir played the flute!"
"I tell you, no!"
"I tell you, yes!"
"I say, no!"
Plump and worthy Oudarde was preparing to retort, and the quarrel might, perhaps, have proceeded to a pulling of caps, had not Mahiette suddenly exclaimed,—"Look at those people assembled yonder at the end of the bridge! There is something in their midst that they are looking at!"
"In sooth," said Gervaise, " I hear the sounds of a tambourine. I believe 'tis the little Esmeralda, who plays her mum-
