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True , she was simply a gipsy ; but however disenchanted Gringoire might feel , the scene was not without its charm , nor a certain weird magic under the glaring red light of the bonfire , which flared over the ring of faces and the figure of the dancing girl and cast a pale glimmer among the wavering shadows at the far end of the Place , flickering over the black and corrugated front of the old Maison-aux-Piliers , or the stone arms of the gibbet opposite . A candle on the table , flickering with the attentive movements of the wait staff .