Tristan bowed. "'Tis well, sire."
He added, after a silence, "And what shall I do with the sorceress?"
This question caused the king to meditate.
"Ah!" said he, "the sorceress! Monsieur d'Estouteville, what did the people wish to do with her?"
"Sire," replied the provost of Paris, "I imagine that since the populace has come to tear her from her asylum in Notre- Dame, 'tis because that impunity wounds them, and they desire to hang her."
The king appeared to reflect deeply: then, addressing Tristan l'Hermite, "Well! gossip, exterminate the people and hang the sorceress."
"That's it," said Rym in a low tone to Coppenole, "punish the people for willing a thing, and then do what they wish."
"Enough, sire," replied Tristan. "If the sorceress is still in Notre-Dame, must she be seized in spite of the sanctuary?"
"~Pasque-Dieu~! the sanctuary!" said the king, scratching his ear. "But the woman must be hung, nevertheless."
Here, as though seized with a sudden idea, he flung himself on his knees before his chair, took off his hat, placed it on the seat, and gazing devoutly at one of the leaden amulets which loaded it down, "Oh!" said he, with clasped hands, "our Lady of Paris, my gracious patroness, pardon me. I will only do it this once. This criminal must be punished. I assure you, madame the virgin, my good mistress, that she is a sorceress who is not worthy of your amiable protection. You know, madame, that many very pious princes have overstepped the privileges of the churches for the glory of God and the necessities of the State. Saint Hugues, bishop of England, permitted King Edward to hang a witch in his church. Saint-Louis of France, my master, transgressed, with the same object, the church of Monsieur Saint-Paul; and Monsieur Alphonse, son of the king of Jerusalem, the very church of the Holy Sepulchre. Pardon me, then, for this once. Our Lady of Paris, I will never do so again, and I will give you a fine statue of silver, like the one which I gave last year to Our Lady of Ecouys. So be it."
He made the sign of the cross, rose, donned his hat once more, and said to Tristan,-"Be diligent, gossip. Take Monsieur Châteaupers with you. You will cause the tocsin to be sounded. You will crush the populace. You will seize the witch. 'Tis said. And I mean the business of the execution to be done by you. You will render me an account of it. Come, Olivier, I shall not go to bed this night. Shave me."
Tristan l'Hermite bowed and departed. Then the king, dismissing Rym and Coppenole with a gesture,-"God guard you, messieurs, my good friends the Flemings. Go, take a little repose. The night advances, and we are nearer the morning than the evening."