with the skirt of his dalmatian, a species of robe made of black
velvet, open in front, with large sleeves and no collar, the sumptuous
material being defaced and shiny. These remains of a magnificent
costume, formerly worn by him as president of the tribunal of the
Parchons, functions which had won him the enmity of the Duke of
Burgundy, was now a mere rag.

Philippe was not cold; he perspired in his harness, dreading further
questions. Until then the brief information obtained that morning from
a Jew whose life he had formerly saved, had sufficed him, thanks to
his good memory and the perfect knowledge the Jew possessed of the
manners and habits of Maitre Cornelius. But the young man who, in the
first flush of his enterprise, had feared nothing was beginning to
perceive the difficulties it presented. The solemn gravity of the
terrible Fleming reacted upon him. He felt himself under lock and key,
and remembered how the grand provost Tristan and his rope were at the
orders of Maitre Cornelius.

"Have you supped?" asked the silversmith, in a tone which signified,
"You are not to sup."

The old maid trembled in spite of her brother's tone; she looked at
the new inmate as if to gauge the capacity of the stomach she might
have to fill, and said with a specious smile:--

"You have not stolen your name; your hair and moustache are as black
as the devil's tail."

"I have supped," he said.