It was a sight worthy of a more intelligent spectator than P us，to watch how these high-born maidens darted their envenomed tongues，and coiled and glided and wound serpent-like about the hapless dancing girl.Smiling and cruel，they pitilessly searched and appraised all her poor artless finery of spangles and tinsel.Then followed the heartless laugh，the cutting irony，humiliations without end.Sarcasm，supercilious praise，and spiteful glances descended on the gipsy girl from every side.One might have judged them to be those high-born Roman ladies who amused themselves by thrusting golden pins into the bosom of a beautiful slave，or graceful greyhounds circling with distended nostrils and flaming eyes round some poor hind of the forest，and only prevented by their master's eye from devouring it piecemeal.And what was she after all to these high-born damsels but a miserable dancing girl of the streets？They seemed to ignore the fact of her presence altogether，and spoke of her to her face as of something degraded and unclean，though diverting enough to make jest of.
The Egyptian was not insensible to these petty stings.From time to time a blush of shame burned in her cheek，a flash of anger in her eyes；a disdainful retort seemed to tremble on her lips，and she made the little contemptuous pout with which the reader is familiar.But she remained silent，motionless，her eyes fixed on P us with a look of resignation infinitely sweet and sad.In this gaze there mingled，too，both joy and tenderness；she seemed to restrain herself for fear of being driven away.
As for P us，he laughed and took the gipsy's part with a mixture of impertinence and pity.
'Let them talk，child！'he said，jingling his gold spurs.'Doubtless your costume is somewhat strange and extravagant；but when a girl is so charming as you，what does it matter？'
'Mon Dieu！'cried La Gaillefontaine，drawing up her swan-like neck，with a bitter smile.'It is evident that Messieurs the King's archers take fire easily at the bright gipsy eyes.'
'Why not？'said P us.
At this rejoinder，uttered carelessly by the captain，as one throws a stone at random without troubling to see where it falls，Colombe began to laugh and Amolette and Diane and Fleur-de-Lys，though a tear rose at the same time to the eye of the latter.
The gipsy girl，who had dropped her eyes as Colombe and La Gaillefontaine spoke，raised them now all radiant with joy and pride and fixed them again on P us.At that moment she was dazzlingly beautiful.
The elder lady，while she observed the scene，felt vaguely incensed without knowing exactly why.
'Holy Virgin！'she suddenly exclaimed，'what is this rubbing against my legs？Ah，the horrid beast！'
It was the goat，just arrived in search of its mistress，and which，in hurrying towards her，had got its horns entangled in the voluminous folds of the noble lady's gown，which always billowed round her wherever she sat.
This caused a diversion，and the gipsy silently freed the little creature.
'Ah，it is the little goat with the golden hoofs！'cried Berangère，jumping with joy.
The gipsy girl crouched on her knees and pressed her cheek fondly against the goat's sleek head，as if begging its forgiveness for having left it behind.
At this Diane bent over and whispered in Colombe's ear：'Ah，how did I not think of it before？This is the gipsy girl with the goat.They say she is a witch，and that her goat performs some truly miraculous tricks.'
'Very well，'said Colombe；'then let the goat amuse us in its turn，and show us a miracle.'
Diane and Colombe accordingly addressed the gipsy eagerly.
'Girl，make thy goat perform a miracle for us.'
'I do not know what you mean，'answered the gipsy.
'A miracle—a conjuring trick—a feat of witchcraft，in fact.'
'I do not understand，'she repeated，and fell to caressing the pretty creature again，murmuring fondly，'Djali！Djali！'
At that moment Fleur-de-Lys remarked a little embroidered leather bag hanging round the goat's neck.'What is that？'she asked of the gipsy.
The gipsy raised her large eyes to her and answered gravely，'That is my secret.'
Meanwhile the lady of the house had risen.'Come，gipsy girl，'she exclaimed angrily；'if thou and thy goat will not dance for us，what do you here？'
Without a word the gipsy rose and turned towards the door.But the nearer she approached it，the more reluctant became her step.An irresistible magnet seemed to hold her back.Suddenly she turned her brimming eyes on P us，and stood still.
'Vrai Dieu！'cried the captain，'you shall not leave us thus.Come back and dance for us.By-the-bye，sweetheart，how are you called？'
'Esmeralda，'answered the dancing girl，without taking her eyes off him.
At this strange name the girls burst into a chorus of laughter.
'Truly a formidable name for a demoiselle！'sneered Diane.
'You see now，'said Amelotte，'that she is a sorceress.'
'Child，'exclaimed Dame Al e solemnly，'your parents never drew that name for you out of the baptismal font！'
For some minutes past Berangère，to whom nobody was paying any attention，had managed to entice the goat into a corner with a piece of marchpane，and immediately they had become the best of friends.The inquisitive child had then detached the little bag from the goat's neck，opened it，and emptied its contents on to the floor.It was an alphabet，each letter being written separately on a small tablet of wood.No sooner were these toys displayed on the matting than，to the child's delighted surprise，the goat（of whose miracles this was no doubt one）proceeded to separate certain letters with her golden fore-foot，and by dint of pushing them gently about ranged them in a certain order.In a minute they formed a word，which the goat seemed practised in composing，to judge by the ease with which she accomplished the task.Berangère clasped her hands in admiration.
'Godmother Fleur-de-Lys，'she cried，'come and see what the goat has done！'