"Now listen. Mother said to me: 'Gildas, Monsieur Lebrenn, our countryman, to whom I sell the linen that we weave in the evenings, takes you as an assistant in his shop. His is a home of the good God. You, who are neither bold nor venturesome, will find yourself there as comfortable as here in our little town. St. Denis Street in Paris, where your employer lives, is a street inhabited only by honest and peaceful merchants.' Well, now, Jeanike, no later than yesterday evening, the second day after my arrival, did you not hear cries of: 'Close the shops! Close the shops!' And did you not thereupon see the night-patrols, and hear the drums and the hurried steps of large numbers of men who came and went tumultuously? There were among them some whose faces were frightful to behold, with their long beards. I positively dreamed of them, Jeanike! I did!" "Poor Gildas!" "And if that were only all!" "What! Is there still more? Have you, perchance, anything to blame our master for?" "Him? He is the best man in all the world. I'm quite sure of that. Mother told me so." "Or Madam Lebrenn?" "The dear, good woman! She reminds me of my own mother with her sweet temper." "Or mademoiselle?" "Oh! As to her, Jeanike, we may say of her in the words of the Song of the Poor:[3] "Your mistress is handsome and brimful of kindness; As lovely her face, yet her deeds with it vie, And her looks and her kindness have won all our hearts." "Oh, Gildas! How I do love to hear those songs of our country. That particular one seems to have been composed expressly for Mademoiselle Velleda, and I--" "Tush, Jeanike!" exclaimed the shop-assistant, breaking in upon his companion. "You asked me what there is to astonish me. Tell me, do you think that mademoiselle's name is a Christian woman's name? _Velleda!_ What can that mean?" "What do I know! I suppose 'tis a fancy of monsieur and madam's." "And their son, who went back yesterday to his business college." "Well?" "What another devil's own name is that which he also has? One ever seems to be about to swear when pronouncing it. Just pronounce that name, Jeanike. Come, pronounce it." "It is very simple. The name of our master's son is Sacrovir." "Ha! ha! I knew it would be so. You did look as if you were swearing--Sacr-r-r-rovir." "Not at all! I did not roll the r's like you." "They roll of themselves, my lassy. But, after all, do you call that a name?" "That also is a fancy of monsieur and madam's." "Very well, and what about the green door?" "The green door?" "Yes, in the rear of the room. Yesterday, at broad noon, I saw our master go in with a light in his hand." "Quite natural, seeing the shutters are always kept closed--" "And you find that natural, do you, Jeanike? And why should the shutters always be kept closed?" "How do I know! It may be another--" "Notion of monsieur and madam's, are you going to tell me?" "Sure!" "And what is kept in that apartment where it is night in broad day?"