BOOK SEVENTH.
CHAPTER 8. THE UTILITY OF WINDOWS WHICH OPEN ON THE RIVER.
(continued)
"Ah! do not weep for such a trifle, my graceful maid!
'tis a name to which one must get accustomed, that is all.
When I once know it by heart, all will go smoothly. Listen
then, my dear Similar; I adore you passionately. I love you
so that 'tis simply miraculous. I know a girl who is
bursting with rage over it--"
The jealous girl interrupted him: "Who?"
"What matters that to us?" said Phoebus; "do you love me?"
"Oh!"--said she.
"Well! that is all. You shall see how I love you also.
May the great devil Neptunus spear me if I do not make you
the happiest woman in the world. We will have a pretty
little house somewhere. I will make my archers parade
before your windows. They are all mounted, and set at
defiance those of Captain Mignon. There are voulgiers, cranequiniers and
hand couleveiniers*. I will take you to
the great sights of the Parisians at the storehouse of Rully.
Eighty thousand armed men, thirty thousand white harnesses, short
coats or coats of mail; the sixty-seven banners of the trades;
the standards of the parliaments, of the chamber of accounts,
of the treasury of the generals, of the aides of the mint; a
devilish fine array, in short! I will conduct you to see the
lions of the Hôtel du Roi, which are wild beasts. All women
love that."
* Varieties of the crossbow.
For several moments the young girl, absorbed in her charming
thoughts, was dreaming to the sound of his voice, without
listening to the sense of his words.
"Oh! how happy you will be!" continued the captain, and
at the same time he gently unbuckled the gypsy's girdle.
"What are you doing?" she said quickly. This "act of
violence" had roused her from her revery.
"Nothing," replied Phoebus, "I was only saying that you
must abandon all this garb of folly, and the street corner
when you are with me."
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