| BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 1. THE CROWN CHANGED INTO A DRY LEAF.
 (continued)The old woman ceased.  A murmur of horror ran through
 the audience. "That phantom, that goat,--all smacks of magic," said one
 of Gringoire's neighbors. "And that dry leaf!" added another. "No doubt about it," joined in a third, "she is a witch who
 has dealings with the surly monk, for the purpose of
 plundering officers." Gringoire himself was not disinclined to regard this as
 altogether alarming and probable. "Goody Falourdel," said the president majestically, "have
 you nothing more to communicate to the court?" "No, monseigneur," replied the crone, "except that the
 report has described my house as a hovel and stinking; which
 is an outrageous fashion of speaking.  The houses on the
 bridge are not imposing, because there are such multitudes of
 people; but, nevertheless, the butchers continue to dwell
 there, who are wealthy folk, and married to very proper and
 handsome women." The magistrate who had reminded Gringoire of a crocodile rose,-- "Silence!" said he.  "I pray the gentlemen not to lose
 sight of the fact that a dagger was found on the person of
 the accused.  Goody Falourdel, have you brought that leaf
 into which the crown which the demon gave you was transformed? "Yes, monseigneur," she replied; "I found it again.  Here it is." A bailiff banded the dead leaf to the crocodile, who made a
 doleful shake of the head, and passed it on to the president,
 who gave it to the procurator of the king in the ecclesiastical
 court, and thus it made the circuit of the hail. "It is a birch leaf," said Master Jacques Charmolue.  "A
 fresh proof of magic. A counsellor took up the word. |