BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 6. THREE HUMAN HEARTS DIFFERENTLY CONSTRUCTED.
(continued)
Hence Phoebus's mind was soon at ease on the score of the
enchantress Esmeralda, or Similar, as he called her, concerning
the blow from the dagger of the Bohemian or of the surly
monk (it mattered little which to him), and as to the issue of
the trial. But as soon as his heart was vacant in that
direction, Fleur-de-Lys returned to it. Captain Phoebus's
heart, like the physics of that day, abhorred a vacuum.
Queue-en-Brie was a very insipid place to stay at then, a
village of farriers, and cow-girls with chapped hands, a long
line of poor dwellings and thatched cottages, which borders
the grand road on both sides for half a league; a tail (queue),
in short, as its name imports.
Fleur-de-Lys was his last passion but one, a pretty girl, a
charming dowry; accordingly, one fine morning, quite cured,
and assuming that, after the lapse of two months, the
Bohemian affair must be completely finished and forgotten,
the amorous cavalier arrived on a prancing horse at the
door of the Gondelaurier mansion.
He paid no attention to a tolerably numerous rabble which
had assembled in the Place du Parvis, before the portal of
Notre-Dame; he remembered that it was the month of May;
he supposed that it was some procession, some Pentecost, some
festival, hitched his horse to the ring at the door, and gayly
ascended the stairs to his beautiful betrothed.
She was alone with her mother.
The scene of the witch, her goat, her cursed alphabet, and
Phoebus's long absences, still weighed on Fleur-de-Lys's heart.
Nevertheless, when she beheld her captain enter, she thought
him so handsome, his doublet so new, his baldrick so shining,
and his air so impassioned, that she blushed with pleasure.
The noble damsel herself was more charming than ever. Her
magnificent blond hair was plaited in a ravishing manner, she
was dressed entirely in that sky blue which becomes fair
people so well, a bit of coquetry which she had learned from
Colombe, and her eyes were swimming in that languor of love
which becomes them still better.
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