"Ill!" she repeated in alarm.
"Yes, wounded!"
"Wounded!"
She poor child was completely upset.
"Oh! do not be frightened at that," said Phœbus, carelessly, "it was nothing. A quarrel, a sword cut; what is that to you?"
"What is that to me?" exclaimed Fleur-de-Lys, raising her beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Oh! you do not say what you think when you speak thus. What sword cut was that? I wish to know all."
"Well, my dear fair one, I had a falling out with Mahè Fédy, you know? the lieutenant of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and we ripped open a few inches of skin for each other. That is all."
The mendacious captain was perfectly well aware that an affair of honor always makes a man stand well in the eyes of a woman. In fact, Fleur-de-Lys looked him full in the face, all agitated with fear, pleasure, and admiration. Still, she was not completely reassured.
"Provided that you are wholly cured, my Phœbus!" said she. "I do not know your Mahè Fédy, but he is a villanous man. And whence arose this quarrel?"
Here Phœbus, whose imagination was endowed with but mediocre power of creation, began to find himself in a quandary as to a means of extricating himself for his prowess.
"Oh! how do I know?—a mere nothing, a horse, a remark! Fair cousin," he exclaimed, for the sake of changing the conversation, "what noise is this in the Cathedral Square?"
He approached the window.
"Oh! Mon Dieu, fair cousin, how many people there are on the Place!"
"I know not," said Fleur-de-Lys; "it appears that a witch is to do penance this morning before the church, and thereafter to be hung."
The captain was so thoroughly persuaded that la Esmeralda's affair was concluded, that he was but little disturbed by Fleur-de-Lys's words. Still, he asked her one or two questions.
"What is the name of this witch?"
