Notre Dame de Paris - Bartleby.com

efore him since the beginning of this chapter) accordingly slowly approached the balcony.
“Look,” said Fleur-de-Lys, tenderly laying her hand on his arm, “look at the girl dancing there in the
ring. Is that your gipsy?”
Phœbus looked. “Yes,” said he, “I know her by her goat.”
“Oh, what a pretty little goat!” cried Amelotte, clapping her hands delightedly.
“Are its horns real gold?” asked Berangère.
Without rising from her seat, Dame Aloïse inquired: “Is that one of the band of Bohemians who arrived
last year by the Porte Gibard?”
“Lady mother,” said Fleur-de-Lys gently, “that gate is now called Porte d’Enfer.”
Mlle. de Gondelaurier was well aware how much the captain was shocked by her mother’s antiquated
modes of expression. Indeed, he muttered with a disdainful laugh: “Porte Gibard! Porte Gibard! That is
to give passage to King Charles VI, no doubt!”
“Godmother!” exclaimed Berangère, whose quick and restless eyes were suddenly attracted to the top
of the towers of Notre Dame. “Who is that man in black up there?”
All the girls looked up. A man was leaning with his elbows on the topmost parapet of the northern
tower which looked towards the Grève. It was a priest—as could be seen by his dress—and they could
clearly distinguish his face, which was resting on his two hands. He stood as motionless as a statue, and
in his gaze, fixed steadily on the Place beneath him, there was something of the immobility of the kite
looking down upon the sparrow’s nest it has just discovered.
“It is Monsieur the Archdeacon of Josas,” said Fleur-de-Lys.
“You must have good sight to recognise him at this distance,” observed La Gaillefontaine.
“How he glares at the little dancer!” said Diane de Christeuil.
“Then let the Egyptian beware,” said Fleur-de-Lys, “for he loves not Egypt.”
“’Tis a pity he should look at her like that,” added Amelotte de Montmichel, “for she dances most
bewitchingly.”
“Cousin Phœ,” said Fleur-de-Lys impulsively, “since you know this gipsy girl, will you not beckon to
her to come up here—it will divert us.”
“Oh, yes!” cried the other girls, clapping their hands gleefully.
“What a madcap idea!” replied Phœbus. “Doubtless she has forgotten me, and I do not even know her
name. However, as you wish it, mesdamoiselles, I will see what I can do.” And leaning over the balcony
he called out, “Little one!”
The dancing girl was not playing her tambourine at that moment. She turned her head towards the spot
from which the voice came, her brilliant eyes caught sight of Phœbus, and she suddenly stood still.
“Little one,” repeated the captain, and he motioned to her to come up.