"A bad neighborhood for young girls, close to these men with helmets and sabers," remarked Gildas sententiously. "A bad neighborhood. That reminds me of the song, The Demand:
"In my dove-cote a little dove
Once had I,
When low the sparrow hawk swooped down
Upon her like a gust of wind;
He frightened my wee dove away
And now none
Knows what has become of her.[4]
"Do you understand, Jeanike? The doves are young girls; the sparrow-hawk—"
"Is the dragoon. You are speaking more wisely than you know, Gildas."
"What, Jeanike! Can you have realized that the neighborhood of sparrow-hawks—that is, dragoons—is unwholesome for you?"
"I was not thinking of myself."
"Of whom, then?"
"Tush, Gildas! You are a loyal fellow. I must ask your advice. This is what has happened: Four days ago, mademoiselle, who usually stays in the rear of the shop, was at the desk in the absence of madam. I happened to look out on the street, when I saw a military man stop before our windows."
"A dragoon? A sparrow-hawk of a dragoon? Was it, Jeanike?"
"Yes; but he was not a soldier; he wore large gold epaulettes, and a cockade on his hat. He must have been at least a colonel. He stopped before the shop, and looked in."