"Satisfy the populace; I undertake to appease the bailiff, who will appease monsieur the cardinal." Jupiter breathed once more.
"Messeigneurs the bourgeois," he cried, at the top of his lungs to the crowd, which continued to hoot him, "we are going to begin at once." "_Evoe Jupiter! Plaudite cives_! All hail, Jupiter! Applaud, citizens!" shouted the scholars.
"Noel! Noel! good, good," shouted the people.
The hand clapping was deafening, and Jupiter had already withdrawn under his tapestry, while the hall still trembled with acclamations.
In the meanwhile, the personage who had so magically turned the tempest into dead calm, as our old and dear Corneille puts it, had modestly retreated to the half-shadow of his pillar, and would, no doubt, have remained invisible there, motionless, and mute as before, had he not been plucked by the sleeve by two young women, who, standing in the front row of the spectators, had noticed his colloquy with Michel Giborne-Jupiter.
"Master," said one of them, making him a sign to approach.

"Hold your tongue, my dear Lienarde," said her neighbor, pretty, fresh, and very brave, in consequence of being dressed up in her best attire.

"He is not a clerk, he is a layman; you must not say master to him, but messire." "Messire," said Lienarde.
The stranger approached the railing.
"What would you have of me, damsels ?" he asked, with alacrity.
"Oh! nothing," replied Lienarde, in great confusion; "it is my neighbor, Gisquette la Gencienne, who wishes to speak with you." "Not so," replied Gisquette, blushing; "it was Lienarde who called you master; I only told her to say messire." The two young girls dropped their eyes.

The man, who asked nothing better than to enter into conversation, looked at them with a smile.
"So you have nothing to say to me, damsels ?" "Oh! nothing at all," replied Gisquette.
"Nothing," said Lienarde.
The tall, light-haired young man retreated a step; but the two curious maidens had no mind to let slip their prize.
"Messire," said Gisquette, with the impetuosity of an open sluice, or of a woman who has made up her mind, "do you know that soldier who is to play the part of Madame the Virgin in the mystery ?" "You mean the part of Jupiter ?" replied the stranger.
"He! yes," said Lienarde, "isn't she stupid?
So you know Jupiter ?" "Michel Giborne ?" replied the unknown; "yes, madam." "He has a fine beard!" said Lienarde.
"Will what they are about to say here be fine ?" inquired Gisquette, timidly.
"Very fine, mademoiselle," replied the unknown, without the slightest hesitation.
"What is it to be ?" said Lienarde.
"'The Good Judgment of Madame the Virgin,'-- a morality, if you please, damsel." "Ah! that makes a difference," responded Lienarde.
A brief silence ensued--broken by the stranger.
"It is a perfectly new morality, and one which has never yet been played." "Then it is not the same one," said Gisquette, "that was given two years ago, on the day of the entrance of monsieur the legate, and where three handsome maids played the parts--" "Of sirens," said Lienarde.
"And all naked," added the young man.
Lienarde lowered her eyes modestly.

Gisquette glanced at her and did the same.