The gipsy, whose eyes had drooped at the words of Colombe de Gaillefontaine, now raised them beaming with pride and pleasure, and fixed them again upon Phoebus. She was beautiful indeed at this moment.
The old lady, who was watching this scene, felt offended, though she did not know why.
“Holy Virgin!” she suddenly exclaimed, “what is this thing poking about under my feet? Oh, the ugly beast!”
It was the goat, which had entered in scarch of its mistress, and which, in its haste to reach her, had caught its horns in the mass of folds which the noble dame’s draperies formed about her feet when she was seated.
This caused a diversion. The gipsy girl, without speaking, released her pet.
“Oh, there’s the little goat with the golden feet!” cried Bérangère, jumping with joy.
The gipsy girl crouched upon her knees and pressed her cheek against the goat’s fond head. She seemed to be begging its pardon for having thus deserted it.
Diane whispered in Colombe’s ear,— “Gracious! why didn’t I think of it before? It’s the gipsy girl with the goat, of whom I have so often heard. They say she is a witch, and that her goat performs very marvelous tricks.”
“Very well,” said Colombe, “the goat must now amuse in its turn, by performing some miracle.”
Diane and Colombe addressed the gipsy eagerly,— “Little one, make your goat perform some miracle.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” replied the dancer.
“A miracle, a piece of magic, some witchcraft.”
“I don’t understand;” and she began to fondle the pretty creature, repeating, “Djali! Djali!”
At this instant Fleur-de-Lys noticed an embroidered leather bag hanging from the goat’s neck.
“What is that?” she asked.
The gipsy raised her large eyes to the girl’s face and replied gravely, “That is my secret.”
“I should very much like to know what your secret is,” thought Fleur-de-Lys.
Meanwhile the good lady rose angrily, saying,— “Come, gipsy, if neither you nor your goat can dance for us, why do you loiter here?”
The gipsy, without answering, moved slowly towards the door; but the nearer she came to it, the slower grew her steps. An irresistible magnet seemed to hold her back. All at once she turned her eyes wet with tears upon Ph?bus, and paused.
“Zounds!” cried the captain; “you mustn’t go in that way. Come back, and dance something for us. By the way, my beauty, what is your name?”
“Esmeralda,” said the dancer, without taking her eyes from his face.
At this strange name the young girls burst into a fit of laughter.
“A terrible name for a girl,” said Diane.
“You see now,” added Amelotte, “that she is an enchantress.”
“My dear,” solemnly exclaimed Dame Alo?se, “your parents never fished out that name for you from the baptismal font.”
Some moments previous, however, Bérangère, unheeded by the rest, had lured the goat into one corner of the room by a bit of marchpane. In an instant they were good friends. The curious child had removed the bag from the goat’s neck, had opened it, and emptied its contents upon the matting; they consisted of an alphabet, each letter being written upon a separate square of boxwood. No sooner were these playthings scattered over the floor, than the child was amazed to see the goat, one of whose “miracles” this undoubtedly was, select certain letters with her golden hoof and arrange them, by a series of gentle pushes, in a particular order. In a moment a word was spelled out which the goat seemed to have been trained to write, so little did she hesitate in the task; and Bérangère exclaimed suddenly, clasping her hands in admiration, — “Godmother Fleur-de-Lys, do see what the goat has just done!”
Fleur-de-Lys looked, and shuddered. The letters arranged upon the floor spelled this word:— “PH?BUS.”13
“Did the goat do that?” she asked in an altered tone.
“Yes, godmother,” answered Bérangère.
It was impossible to doubt her, for the child could not spell.
“This is her secret!” thought Fleur-de-Lys.
Meantime, at the child’s shout, the whole party hastened to her side,—the mother, the girls, the gipsy, and the officer.
The gipsy saw the folly which her goat had committed. She turned first red, then pale, and trembled like a criminal before the captain, who regarded her with a smile of mingled satisfaction and surprise.