The precipitation of the Chouette's step, the fierce throbbings of a fever of rapine and murder which still animated her, had suffused her hideous features with a deep purple, whilst her green eye sparkled with savage joy. Tortillard followed her, hopping and skipping. At the moment when she descended the last steps of the stairs, Bras-Rouge's son, from pure mischief, put his foot on the long and dragging skirts of the Chouette's gown. This sudden stoppage made the old woman stumble, and, unable to catch hold of the baluster, she fell on her knees, her two hands extended, and dropping her precious basket, whence escaped a gold bracelet set with emeralds and pearls. The Chouette having, in her fall, somewhat excoriated her fingers, picked up the bracelet, which had not escaped the keen sight of Tortillard, and, recovering her feet, turned furiously to the little cripple, who approached her with a hypocritical air, saying to her: "Oh, dear me! Did your foot slip?" Without making any reply, the Chouette seized Tortillard by the hair, and, stooping to a level with his cheek, she bit it with such fury that the blood spurted out beneath her teeth. Strange, however, Tortillard, in spite of his usual vindictiveness, in spite of feeling such intense pain, did not utter a murmur or a cry. He only wiped his bleeding cheek, and said, with a forced laugh: "I hope next time you will not kiss me so hard,--eh, La Chouette?" "Wicked little brat! Why did you tread on my gown on purpose to make me fall?" "Me? Oh! How could you think so? I swear I didn't do it on purpose, my dear Chouette! Don't think your little Tortillard would do you any harm; he loves you too well for that. You should never beat him, or scold him, or bite him, for he is as fond of you as if he were a poor little dog, and you were his mistress!" said the boy, in a gentle and insinuating tone. Deceived by Tortillard's hypocrisy, the Chouette believed him, and replied: "Well, well, if I was wrong to bite you, why, let it go for all the other times you have deserved it, you little villain! But, _vive la joie_! To-day I bear no malice. Where is your old rogue of a father?" "In the house. Shall I go and find him for you?" "No; are the Martials here?" "Not yet." "Then I have time to go down and visit _fourline_. I want to speak to old No-Eyes." "Will you go into the Schoolmaster's cellar?" inquired Tortillard, scarcely concealing his diabolical delight. "What's that to you?" "To me?" "Yes, you ask me the question with such an odd air." "Because I was thinking of something odd." "What?" "Why, that you ought, at least, to have brought him a pack of cards to pass away his time," replied Tortillard, with a cunning look; "that would divert him a little; now he has nothing to play at but not to be bitten by the rats; and he always wins at that game, and after awhile it becomes tiresome." The Chouette laughed heartily at Tortillard's wit, and said to the cripple: