Phoebus laughed, and took the gypsy's part with a mixture of impertinence and pity.
"Let them talk, little one!" he repeated, jingling his golden spurs. "No doubt your toilet is a little extravagant and wild, but what difference does that make with such a charming damsel as yourself?"
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the blonde Gaillefontaine, drawing up her swan-like throat, with a bitter smile. "I see that messieurs the archers of the king's police easily take fire at the handsome eyes of gypsies!"
"Why not?" said Phoebus.
At this reply uttered carelessly by the captain, like a stray stone, whose fall one does not even watch, Colombe began to laugh, as well as Diane, Amelotte, and Fleur-de-Lys, into whose eyes at the same time a tear started.
The gypsy, who had dropped her eyes on the floor at the words of Colombe de Gaillefontaine, raised them beaming with joy and pride and fixed them once more on Phoebus. She was very beautiful at that moment.
The old dame, who was watching this scene, felt offended, without understanding why.
"Holy Virgin!" she suddenly exclaimed, "what is it moving about my legs? Ah! the villanous beast!"
It was the goat, who had just arrived, in search of his mistress, and who, in dashing towards the latter, had begun by entangling his horns in the pile of stuffs which the noble dame's garments heaped up on her feet when she was seated.
This created a diversion. The gypsy disentangled his horns without uttering a word.
"Oh! here's the little goat with golden hoofs!" exclaimed Bérangère, dancing with joy.
The gypsy crouched down on her knees and leaned her cheek against the fondling head of the goat. One would have said that she was asking pardon for having quitted it thus.
Meanwhile, Diane had bent down to Colombe's ear.
"Ah! good heavens! why did not I think of that sooner? 'Tis the gypsy with the goat. They say she is a sorceress, and that her goat executes very miraculous tricks."
"Well!" said Colombe, "the goat must now amuse us in its turn, and perform a miracle for us."
Diane and Colombe eagerly addressed the gypsy.
"Little one, make your goat perform a miracle."
"I do not know what you mean," replied the dancer.
"A miracle, a piece of magic, a bit of sorcery, in short."
"I do not understand." And she fell to caressing the pretty animal, repeating, "Djali! Djali!"
At that moment Fleur-de-Lys noticed a little bag of embroidered leather suspended from the neck of the goat,-- "What is that?" she asked of the gypsy.
The gypsy raised her large eyes upon her and replied gravely,-- "That is my secret."