"Then who brought you up, Goualeuse?" asked Rodolph.
"I don't know, sir. As far back as I can remember—I was, I think, about six or seven years old—I was with an old one-eyed woman, whom they call the Chouette,[6] because she had a hooked nose, a green eye quite round, and was like an owl with one eye out."
[6] The Screech-owl.
"Ha! ha! ha! I think I see her, the old night-bird!" shouted the Chourineur, laughing.
"The one-eyed woman," resumed Fleur-de-Marie, "made me sell barley-sugar in the evenings on the Pont Neuf; but that was only an excuse for asking charity; and when I did not bring her in at least ten sous, the Chouette beat me instead of giving me any supper."
"Are you sure the woman was not your mother?" inquired Rodolph.
"Quite sure; for she often scolded me for being fatherless and motherless, and said she picked me up one day in the street."
"So," said the Chourineur, "you had a dance instead of a meal, if you did not pick up ten sous?"
"Yes. And after that I went to lie down on some straw spread on the ground; when I was cold—very cold."
"I do not doubt it, for the feather of beans (straw) is a very cold sort of stuff," said the Chourineur. "A dung-heap is twice as good; but then people don't like your smell, and say, 'Oh, the blackguard! where has he been?'"