He hazarded a delicate question.
"So you don't want me for your husband ?" The young girl looked at him intently, and said, "No." "For your lover ?" went on Gringoire.
She pouted, and replied, "No." "For your friend ?" pursued Gringoire.
She gazed fixedly at him again, and said, after a momentary reflection, "Perhaps." This "perhaps," so dear to philosophers, emboldened Gringoire.
"Do you know what friendship is ?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the gypsy; "it is to be brother and sister; two souls which touch without mingling, two fingers on one hand." "And love ?" pursued Gringoire.
"Oh! love!" said she, and her voice trembled, and her eye beamed.

"That is to be two and to be but one.

A man and a woman mingled into one angel.

It is heaven." The street dancer had a beauty as she spoke thus, that struck Gringoire singularly, and seemed to him in perfect keeping with the almost oriental exaltation of her words.

Her pure, red lips half smiled; her serene and candid brow became troubled, at intervals, under her thoughts, like a mirror under the breath; and from beneath her long, drooping, black eyelashes, there escaped a sort of ineffable light, which gave to her profile that ideal serenity which Raphael found at the mystic point of intersection of virginity, maternity, and divinity.
Nevertheless, Gringoire continued,-- "What must one be then, in order to please you ?" "A man." "And I--" said he, "what, then, am I ?" "A man has a hemlet on his head, a sword in his hand, and golden spurs on his heels." "Good," said Gringoire, "without a horse, no man.