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She hated Caillette for her youth and her beauty; she hated Fanfar for his goodness, and hated Gudel for his patience and for his good spirits. Robeccal joined the troop. Gudel had found him dying of hunger, and had rescued him. Soon he and Roulante were on excellent terms; both were thoroughly vicious.
Caillette asked from house to house; every one had seen the woman, but she had gone in a different direction; and so the poor child wandered onward, right and left, forward and backward, always hoping to discover them. Finally, after she had been thirty-six hours on the way, she found the maniac in a little tavern by the roadside.
In a book of a contemporary of Rabelais, the Legende de Pierre Faifeu by the Angevin, Charles de Bourdigne, the first edition of which dates from 1526 and the second 1531 both so rare and so forgotten that the work is only known since the eighteenth century by the reprint of Custelier in the introductory ballad which recommends this book to readers, occur these lines in the list of popular books which Faifeu would desire to replace: 'Laissez ester Caillette le folastre, Les quatre filz Aymon vestuz de bleu, Gargantua qui a cheveux de plastre.
Finally the measured beat of oars was heard, the prow of a boat struck against the pebbly beach, and shadows were seen coming toward the cottage. The door opened. Irène and Caillette burst into tears. Francine cried, "Fanfar! my brother!" "Zounds!" cried Gudel, "it was not such an easy matter getting here." Fanfar sank on his knees before Françoise. "My poor mother!" he exclaimed.
Caillette, too, had noticed the young lady address Fanfaro, and she became violently jealous. What business had the rich heiress with the young man, whom she was accustomed to look upon as her own property? For Caillette, as well as Madame Ursula, it was fortunate that they had not heard Fanfaro's words, and yet it was only good advice which the young man had given Irene.
He divined what was going on in Caillette, as many words hastily spoken had told the young man that the young girl loved him not as the sister loves the brother, but with a more passionate love. Caillette was still unaware of it, but every day, every hour could explain her feelings to her, and Fanfaro feared that moment, for he did not love her. How was this possible?
Caillette laughed, and at once began to dance, standing on the points of her toes and whirling round and round. But they were not so absorbed in their practice that they refrained from talking. "You are sad," said Bobichel. "No," answered Caillette, suddenly throwing out her left leg. Bobichel picked up a sou with his teeth.
"Oh! women, women! you have much to answer for!" sighed the innkeeper. "I was happy enough with my first wife, though, and Caillette is her very image." "She must be a big girl, now, it is five years since I saw her." "And she is nearly sixteen. An angel without wings!" "How does she get on with your wife?" "Oh! Roulante can't endure her!" Schwann shook his head.
He, however, had eyes alone for the broken-down old woman who clung to Caillette in great excitement and gently implored: "Jacques where is Jacques? I do not see him!" "Here I am, my poor dear mother," sobbed Fanfaro, sinking on his knees in front of the old lady. With trembling hands she caressed his hair, pressed her lips upon her son's forehead, and then sank, with a smile, to the floor.
"Go, wake father and tell him I must speak to him; do not lose a minute," urged Caillette. The clown did not ask any more questions. He hurried to wake Girdel and Fanfaro, and then called Caillette. The young girl hastily told what she had heard.
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