English
Afterhavingrunforsometimeatthetopofhisspeed,withoutknowingwhither,knockinghisheadagainstmanyastreetcorner,leapingmanyagutter,traversingmanyanalley,manyacourt,manyasquare,seekingflightandpassagethroughallthemeanderingsoftheancientpassagesoftheHalles,exploringinhispanicterrorwhatthefineLatinofthemapscalls~totavia,cheminumetviaria~,ourpoetsuddenlyhaltedforlackofbreathinthefirstplace,andinthesecond,becausehehadbeencollared,afterafashion,byadilemmawhichhadjustoccurredtohismind.
"Itstrikesme,MasterPierreGringoire,"hesaidtohimself,placinghisfingertohisbrow,"thatyouarerunninglikeamadman.
Thelittlescampsarenolessafraidofyouthanyouareofthem.
Itstrikesme,Isay,thatyouheardtheclatteroftheirwoodenshoesfleeingsouthward,whileyouwerefleeingnorthward.
Now,oneoftwothings,eithertheyhavetakenflight,andthepallet,whichtheymusthaveforgottenintheirterror,ispreciselythathospitablebedinsearchofwhichyouhavebeenrunningeversincemorning,andwhichmadametheVirginmiraculouslysendsyou,inordertorecompenseyouforhavingmadeamoralityinherhonor,accompaniedbytriumphsandmummeries;orthechildrenhavenottakenflight,andinthatcasetheyhaveputthebrandtothepallet,andthatispreciselythegoodfirewhichyouneedtocheer,dry,andwarmyou.
Ineithercase,goodfireorgoodbed,thatstrawpalletisagiftfromheaven.
TheblessedVirginMariewhostandsatthecorneroftheRueMauconseil,couldonlyhavemadeEustacheMoubondieforthatexpresspurpose;anditisfollyonyourparttofleethuszigzag,likeaPicardbeforeaFrenchman,leavingbehindyouwhatyouseekbeforeyou;andyouareafool!"
Thenheretracedhissteps,andfeelinghiswayandsearching,withhisnosetothewindandhisearsonthealert,hetriedtofindtheblessedpalletagain,butinvain.
Therewasnothingtobefoundbutintersectionsofhouses,closedcourts,andcrossingsofstreets,inthemidstofwhichhehesitatedanddoubtedincessantly,beingmoreperplexedandentangledinthismedleyofstreetsthanhewouldhavebeeneveninthelabyrinthoftheHôteldesTournelles.
Atlengthhelostpatience,andexclaimedsolemnly:"Cursedbecrossroads!
'tisthedevilwhohasmadethemintheshapeofhispitchfork!"
Thisexclamationaffordedhimalittlesolace,andasortofreddishreflectionwhichhecaughtsightofatthatmoment,attheextremityofalongandnarrowlane,completedtheelevationofhismoraltone."Godbepraised!"saidhe,"Thereitisyonder!Thereismypalletburning."
Andcomparinghimselftothepilotwhosuffersshipwreckbynight,"~Salve~,"headdedpiously,"~salve,marisstella~!"
DidheaddressthisfragmentoflitanytotheHolyVirgin,ortothepallet?Weareutterlyunabletosay.
Hehadtakenbutafewstepsinthelongstreet,whichslopeddownwards,wasunpaved,andmoreandmoremuddyandsteep,whenhenoticedaverysingularthing.
Itwasnotdeserted;hereandtherealongitsextentcrawledcertainvagueandformlessmasses,alldirectingtheircoursetowardsthelightwhichflickeredattheendofthestreet,likethoseheavyinsectswhichdragalongbynight,frombladetobladeofgrass,towardstheshepherd'sfire.
Nothingrendersonesoadventurousasnotbeingabletofeeltheplacewhereone'spocketissituated.
Gringoirecontinuedtoadvance,andhadsoonjoinedthatoneoftheformswhichdraggedalongmostindolently,behindtheothers.
Ondrawingnear,heperceivedthatitwasnothingelsethanawretchedleglesscrippleinabowl,whowashoppingalongonhistwohandslikeawoundedfield–spiderwhichhasbuttwolegsleft.
Atthemomentwhenhepassedclosetothisspeciesofspiderwithahumancountenance,itraisedtowardshimalamentablevoice:"~Labuonamancia,signor!labuonamancia~!"*
*Alms.
"Deucetakeyou,"saidGringoire,"andmewithyou,ifIknowwhatyoumean!"
Andhepassedon.
Heovertookanotheroftheseitinerantmasses,andexaminedit.
Itwasanimpotentman,bothhaltandcrippled,andhaltandcrippledtosuchadegreethatthecomplicatedsystemofcrutchesandwoodenlegswhichsustainedhim,gavehimtheairofamason'sscaffoldingonthemarch.
Gringoire,wholikednobleandclassicalcomparisons,comparedhiminthoughttothelivingtripodofVulcan.
Thislivingtripodsalutedhimashepassed,butstoppinghishatonalevelwithGringoire'schin,likeashavingdish,whileheshoutedinthelatter'sears:"~Senorcabellero,paracomprarunpedasodepan~!"*
*Givemethemeanstobuyabitofbread,sir.
"Itappears,"saidGringoire,"thatthisonecanalsotalk;but'tisarudelanguage,andheismorefortunatethanIifheunderstandsit."
Then,smitinghisbrow,inasuddentransitionofideas:"Bytheway,whatthedeucedidtheymeanthismorningwiththeirEsmeralda?"
Hewasmindedtoaugmenthispace,butforthethirdtimesomethingbarredhisway.
Thissomethingor,rather,someonewasablindman,alittleblindfellowwithabearded,Jewishface,who,rowingawayinthespaceabouthimwithastick,andtowedbyalargedog,dronedthroughhisnosewithaHungarianaccent:"~Facitotecaritatem~!"
"Well,now,"saidGringoire,"here'soneatlastwhospeaksaChristiantongue.
Imusthaveaverycharitableaspect,sincetheyaskalmsofmeinthepresentleanconditionofmypurse.
Myfriend,"andheturnedtowardstheblindman,"Isoldmylastshirtlastweek;thatistosay,sinceyouunderstandonlythelanguageofCicero:~Vendidihebdomadenupertransitameamultimamchemisan~."
Thatsaid,heturnedhisbackupontheblindman,andpursuedhisway.
Buttheblindmanbegantoincreasehisstrideatthesametime;and,behold!
thecrippleandtheleglessman,inhisbowl,cameupontheirsideingreathaste,andwithgreatclamorofbowlandcrutches,uponthepavement.
Thenallthree,jostlingeachotheratpoorGringoire'sheels,begantosingtheirsongtohim,—
"~Caritatem~!"chantedtheblindman.
"~Labuonamancia~!"chantedthecrippleinthebowl.
Andthelamemantookupthemusicalphrasebyrepeating:"~Unpedasodepan~!"
Gringoirestoppeduphisears."Oh,towerofBabel!"heexclaimed.
Hesetouttorun.Theblindmanran!Thelamemanran!Thecrippleinthebowlran!
Andthen,inproportionasheplungeddeeperintothestreet,cripplesinbowls,blindmenandlamemen,swarmedabouthim,andmenwithonearm,andwithoneeye,andtheleprouswiththeirsores,someemergingfromlittlestreetsadjacent,somefromtheair–holesofcellars,howling,bellowing,yelping,alllimpingandhalting,allflingingthemselvestowardsthelight,andhumpedupinthemire,likesnailsafterashower.
Gringoire,stillfollowedbyhisthreepersecutors,andnotknowingverywellwhatwastobecomeofhim,marchedalonginterroramongthem,turningoutforthelame,steppingoverthecripplesinbowls,withhisfeetimbeddedinthatant–hilloflamemen,liketheEnglishcaptainwhogotcaughtinthequicksandofaswarmofcrabs.
Theideaoccurredtohimofmakinganefforttoretracehissteps.Butitwastoolate.
Thiswholelegionhadclosedinbehindhim,andhisthreebeggarsheldhimfast.
Soheproceeded,impelledbothbythisirresistibleflood,byfear,andbyavertigowhichconvertedallthisintoasortofhorribledream.
Atlasthereachedtheendofthestreet.
Itopeneduponanimmenseplace,whereathousandscatteredlightsflickeredintheconfusedmistsofnight.
Gringoireflewthither,hopingtoescape,bytheswiftnessofhislegs,fromthethreeinfirmspectreswhohadclutchedhim.
"~Ondevas,hombre~?"(Whereareyougoing,myman?)
criedthecripple,flingingawayhiscrutches,andrunningafterhimwiththebestlegsthatevertracedageometricalstepuponthepavementsofParis.
Inthemeantimetheleglessman,erectuponhisfeet,crownedGringoirewithhisheavyironbowl,andtheblindmanglaredinhisfacewithflamingeyes!
"WhereamI?"saidtheterrifiedpoet.
"IntheCourtofMiracles,"repliedafourthspectre,whohadaccostedthem.
"Uponmysoul,"resumedGringoire,"Icertainlydobeholdtheblindwhosee,andthelamewhowalk,butwhereistheSaviour?"
Theyrepliedbyaburstofsinisterlaughter.
Thepoorpoetcasthiseyesabouthim.Itwas,intruth,thatredoubtableCourdesMiracles,whitheranhonestmanhadneverpenetratedatsuchanhour;themagiccirclewheretheofficersoftheChâteletandthesergeantsoftheprovostship,whoventuredthither,disappearedinmorsels;acityofthieves,ahideouswartonthefaceofParis;asewer,fromwhichescapedeverymorning,andwhitherreturnedeverynighttocrouch,thatstreamofvices,ofmendicancyandvagabondagewhichalwaysoverflowsinthestreetsofcapitals;amonstroushive,towhichreturnedatnightfall,withtheirbooty,allthedronesofthesocialorder;alyinghospitalwherethebohemian,thedisfrockedmonk,theruinedscholar,thene'er–do–wellsofallnations,Spaniards,Italians,Germans,—ofallreligions,Jews,Christians,Mahometans,idolaters,coveredwithpaintedsores,beggarsbyday,weretransformedbynightintobrigands;animmensedressing–room,inaword,where,atthatepoch,theactorsofthateternalcomedy,whichtheft,prostitution,andmurderplayuponthepavementsofParis,dressedandundressed.
Itwasavastplace,irregularandbadlypaved,likeallthesquaresofParisatthatdate.
Fires,aroundwhichswarmedstrangegroups,blazedhereandthere.
Everyonewasgoing,coming,andshouting.
Shrilllaughterwastobeheard,thewailingofchildren,thevoicesofwomen.
Thehandsandheadsofthisthrong,blackagainsttheluminousbackground,outlinedagainstitathousandeccentricgestures.
Attimes,upontheground,wheretrembledthelightofthefires,mingledwithlarge,indefiniteshadows,onecouldbeholdadogpassing,whichresembledaman,amanwhoresembledadog.
Thelimitsofracesandspeciesseemedeffacedinthiscity,asinapandemonium.
Men,women,beasts,age,sex,health,maladies,allseemedtobeincommonamongthesepeople;allwenttogether,theymingled,confounded,superposed;eachonethereparticipatedinall.
ThepoorandflickeringflamesofthefirepermittedGringoiretodistinguish,amidhistrouble,allaroundtheimmenseplace,ahideousframeofancienthouses,whosewormeaten,shrivelled,stuntedfaades,eachpiercedwithoneortwolightedatticwindows,seemedtohim,inthedarkness,likeenormousheadsofoldwomen,rangedinacircle,monstrousandcrabbed,winkingastheylookedonattheWitches'Sabbath.
Itwaslikeanewworld,unknown,unheardof,misshapen,creeping,swarming,fantastic.
Gringoire,moreandmoreterrified,clutchedbythethreebeggarsasbythreepairsoftongs,dazedbyathrongofotherfaceswhichfrothedandyelpedaroundhim,unhappyGringoireendeavoredtosummonhispresenceofmind,inordertorecallwhetheritwasaSaturday.
Buthiseffortswerevain;thethreadofhismemoryandofhisthoughtwasbroken;and,doubtingeverything,waveringbetweenwhathesawandwhathefelt,heputtohimselfthisunanswerablequestion,—
"IfIexist,doesthisexist?ifthisexists,doIexist?"
Atthatmoment,adistinctcryaroseinthebuzzingthrongwhichsurroundedhim,"Let'stakehimtotheking!let'stakehimtotheking!"
"HolyVirgin!"murmuredGringoire,"thekingheremustbearam."
"Totheking!totheking!"repeatedallvoices.
Theydraggedhimoff.Eachviedwiththeotherinlayinghisclawsuponhim.Butthethreebeggarsdidnotloosetheirholdandtorehimfromtherest,howling,"Hebelongstous!"
Thepoet'salreadysicklydoubletyieldeditslastsighinthisstruggle.
Whiletraversingthehorribleplace,hisvertigovanished.
Aftertakingafewsteps,thesentimentofrealityreturnedtohim.
Hebegantobecomeaccustomedtotheatmosphereoftheplace.
Atthefirstmomenttherehadarisenfromhispoet'shead,or,simplyandprosaically,fromhisemptystomach,amist,avapor,sotospeak,which,spreadingbetweenobjectsandhimself,permittedhimtocatchaglimpseofthemonlyintheincoherentfogofnightmare,—inthoseshadowsofdreamswhichdistorteveryoutline,agglomeratingobjectsintounwieldygroups,dilatingthingsintochimeras,andmenintophantoms.
Littlebylittle,thishallucinationwassucceededbyalessbewilderedandexaggeratingview.
Realitymadeitswaytothelightaroundhim,struckhiseyes,struckhisfeet,anddemolished,bitbybit,allthatfrightfulpoetrywithwhichhehad,atfirst,believedhimselftobesurrounded.
HewasforcedtoperceivethathewasnotwalkingintheStyx,butinmud,thathewaselbowednotbydemons,butbythieves;thatitwasnothissoulwhichwasinquestion,buthislife(sincehelackedthatpreciousconciliator,whichplacesitselfsoeffectuallybetweenthebanditandthehonestman—apurse).
Inshort,onexaminingtheorgymoreclosely,andwithmorecoolness,hefellfromthewitches'sabbathtothedram–shop.
TheCourdesMiracleswas,infact,merelyadram–shop;butabrigand'sdram–shop,reddenedquiteasmuchwithbloodaswithwine.
Thespectaclewhichpresenteditselftohiseyes,whenhisraggedescortfinallydepositedhimattheendofhistrip,wasnotfittedtobearhimbacktopoetry,eventothepoetryofhell.
Itwasmorethanevertheprosaicandbrutalrealityofthetavern.
Werewenotinthefifteenthcentury,wewouldsaythatGringoirehaddescendedfromMichaelAngelotoCallot.
Aroundagreatfirewhichburnedonalarge,circularflagstone,theflamesofwhichhadheatedred–hotthelegsofatripod,whichwasemptyforthemoment,somewormeatentableswereplaced,hereandthere,haphazard,nolackeyofageometricalturnhavingdeignedtoadjusttheirparallelism,ortoseetoitthattheydidnotmaketoounusualangles.
Uponthesetablesgleamedseveraldrippingpotsofwineandbeer,androundthesepotsweregroupedmanybacchicvisages,purplewiththefireandthewine.
Therewasamanwithahugebellyandajovialface,noisilykissingawomanofthetown,thicksetandbrawny.
Therewasasortofshamsoldier,a"naquois,"astheslangexpressionruns,whowaswhistlingasheundidthebandagesfromhisfictitiouswound,andremovingthenumbnessfromhissoundandvigorousknee,whichhadbeenswathedsincemorninginathousandligatures.
Ontheotherhand,therewasawretchedfellow,preparingwithcelandineandbeef'sblood,his"legofGod,"forthenextday.
Twotablesfurtheron,apalmer,withhispilgrim'scostumecomplete,waspractisingthelamentoftheHolyQueen,notforgettingthedroneandthenasaldrawl.
Furtheron,ayoungscampwastakingalessoninepilepsyfromanoldpretender,whowasinstructinghimintheartoffoamingatthemouth,bychewingamorselofsoap.
Besidehim,amanwiththedropsywasgettingridofhisswelling,andmakingfourorfivefemalethieves,whoweredisputingatthesametable,overachildwhohadbeenstolenthatevening,holdtheirnoses.
Allcircumstanceswhich,twocenturieslater,"seemedsoridiculoustothecourt,"asSauvalsays,"thattheyservedasapastimetotheking,andasanintroductiontotheroyalballetofNight,dividedintofourpartsanddancedonthetheatreofthePetit–Bourbon."
"Never,"addsaneyewitnessof1653,"havethesuddenmetamorphosesoftheCourtofMiraclesbeenmorehappilypresented.
Benseradepreparedusforitbysomeverygallantverses."
Loudlaughtereverywhere,andobscenesongs.
Eachoneheldhisowncourse,carpingandswearing,withoutlisteningtohisneighbor.
Potsclinked,andquarrelssprangupattheshockofthepots,andthebrokenpotsmaderentsintherags.
Abigdog,seatedonhistail,gazedatthefire.
Somechildrenweremingledinthisorgy.Thestolenchildweptandcried.
Another,abigboyfouryearsofage,seatedwithlegsdangling,uponabenchthatwastoohighforhim,beforeatablethatreachedtohischin,andutteringnotaword.
Athird,gravelyspreadingoutuponthetablewithhisfinger,themeltedtallowwhichdrippedfromacandle.
Lastofall,alittlefellowcrouchinginthemud,almostlostinacauldron,whichhewasscrapingwithatile,andfromwhichhewasevokingasoundthatwouldhavemadeStradivariusswoon.
Nearthefirewasahogshead,andonthehogsheadabeggar.Thiswasthekingonhisthrone.
ThethreewhohadGringoireintheirclutchesledhiminfrontofthishogshead,andtheentirebacchanalroutfellsilentforamoment,withtheexceptionofthecauldroninhabitedbythechild.
Gringoiredaredneitherbreathenorraisehiseyes.
"~Hombre,quitatusombrero~!"saidoneofthethreeknaves,inwhosegrasphewas,and,beforehehadcomprehendedthemeaning,theotherhadsnatchedhishat—awretchedheadgear,itistrue,butstillgoodonasunnydayorwhentherewasbutlittlerain.Gringoiresighed.
Meanwhilethekingaddressedhim,fromthesummitofhiscask,—
"Whoisthisrogue?"
Gringoireshuddered.Thatvoice,althoughaccentuatedbymenace,recalledtohimanothervoice,which,thatverymorning,haddealtthedeathblowtohismystery,bydrawling,nasally,inthemidstoftheaudience,"Charity,please!"Heraisedhishead.ItwasindeedClopinTrouillefou.
ClopinTrouillefou,arrayedinhisroyalinsignia,woreneitheroneragmorenoroneragless.
Thesoreuponhisarmhadalreadydisappeared.
Heheldinhishandoneofthosewhipsmadeofthongsofwhiteleather,whichpolicesergeantsthenusedtorepressthecrowd,andwhichwerecalled~boullayes~.
Onhisheadheworeasortofheadgear,boundroundandclosedatthetop.
Butitwasdifficulttomakeoutwhetheritwasachild'scaporaking'scrown,thetwothingsboresostrongaresemblancetoeachother.
MeanwhileGringoire,withoutknowingwhy,hadregainedsomehope,onrecognizingintheKingoftheCourdesMiracleshisaccursedmendicantoftheGrandHall.
"Master,"stammeredhe;"monseigneur—sire—howoughtItoaddressyou?"
hesaidatlength,havingreachedtheculminatingpointofhiscrescendo,andknowingneitherhowtomounthigher,nortodescendagain.
"Monseigneur,hismajesty,orcomrade,callmewhatyouplease.Butmakehaste.Whathaveyoutosayinyourowndefence?"
"Inyourowndefence?"thoughtGringoire,"thatdispleasesme."Heresumed,stuttering,"Iamhe,whothismorning—"
"Bythedevil'sclaws!"interruptedClopin,"yourname,knave,andnothingmore.Listen.
Youareinthepresenceofthreepowerfulsovereigns:myself,ClopinTrouillefou,KingofThunes,successortotheGrandCoesre,supremesuzerainoftheRealmofArgot;MathiasHunyadiSpicali,DukeofEgyptandofBohemia,theoldyellowfellowwhomyouseeyonder,withadishcloutroundhishead;GuillaumeRousseau,EmperorofGalilee,thatfatfellowwhoisnotlisteningtousbutcaressingawench.
Weareyourjudges.
YouhaveenteredtheKingdomofArgot,withoutbeingan~argotier~;youhaveviolatedtheprivilegesofourcity.
Youmustbepunishedunlessyouarea~capon~,a~franc–mitou~ora~rifodé~;thatistosay,intheslangofhonestfolks,—athief,abeggar,oravagabond.Areyouanythingofthatsort?
Justifyyourself;announceyourtitles."
"Alas!"saidGringoire,"Ihavenotthathonor.Iamtheauthor—"
"Thatissufficient,"resumedTrouillefou,withoutpermittinghimtofinish."Youaregoingtobehanged.
'Tisaverysimplematter,gentlemenandhonestbourgeois!
asyoutreatourpeopleinyourabode,sowetreatyouinours!
Thelawwhichyouapplytovagabonds,vagabondsapplytoyou.'Tisyourfaultifitisharsh.
Onereallymustbeholdthegrimaceofanhonestmanabovethehempencollarnowandthen;thatrendersthethinghonorable.
Come,friend,divideyourragsgaylyamongthesedamsels.
Iamgoingtohaveyouhangedtoamusethevagabonds,andyouaretogivethemyourpursetodrinkyourhealth.
Ifyouhaveanymummerytogothroughwith,there'saverygoodGodtheFatherinthatmortaryonder,instone,whichwestolefromSaint–PierreauxBoeufs.
Youhavefourminutesinwhichtoflingyoursoulathishead."
Theharanguewasformidable.
"Wellsaid,uponmysoul!ClopinTrouillefoupreachesliketheHolyFatherthePope!"exclaimedtheEmperorofGalilee,smashinghispotinordertopropuphistable.
"Messeigneurs,emperors,andkings,"saidGringoirecoolly(forIknownothow,firmnesshadreturnedtohim,andhespokewithresolution),"don'tthinkofsuchathing;mynameisPierreGringoire.
IamthepoetwhosemoralitywaspresentedthismorninginthegrandhalloftheCourts."
"Ah!soitwasyou,master!"saidClopin."Iwasthere,~xteDieu~!Well!comrade,isthatanyreason,becauseyouboredustodeaththismorning,thatyoushouldnotbehungthisevening?"
"Ishallfinddifficultyingettingoutofit,"saidGringoiretohimself.
Nevertheless,hemadeonemoreeffort:"Idon'tseewhypoetsarenotclassedwithvagabonds,"saidhe.
"Vagabond,Aesopuscertainlywas;Homeruswasabeggar;Mercuriuswasathief—"
Clopininterruptedhim:"Ibelievethatyouaretryingtoblarneyuswithyourjargon.Zounds!letyourselfbehung,anddon'tkickupsucharowoverit!"
"Pardonme,monseigneur,theKingofThunes,"repliedGringoire,disputingthegroundfootbyfoot."Itisworthtrouble—Onemoment!
—Listentome—Youarenotgoingtocondemnmewithouthavingheardme"—
Hisunluckyvoicewas,infact,drownedintheuproarwhichrosearoundhim.
Thelittleboyscrapedawayathiscauldronwithmorespiritthanever;and,tocrownall,anoldwomanhadjustplacedonthetripodafrying–panofgrease,whichhissedawayonthefirewithanoisesimilartothecryofatroopofchildreninpursuitofamasker.
Inthemeantime,ClopinTrouillefouappearedtoholdamomentaryconferencewiththeDukeofEgypt,andtheEmperorofGalilee,whowascompletelydrunk.Thenheshoutedshrilly:"Silence!"
and,asthecauldronandthefrying–pandidnotheedhim,andcontinuedtheirduet,hejumpeddownfromhishogshead,gaveakicktotheboiler,whichrolledtenpacesawaybearingthechildwithit,akicktothefrying–pan,whichupsetinthefirewithallitsgrease,andgravelyremountedhisthrone,withouttroublinghimselfaboutthestifledtearsofthechild,orthegrumblingoftheoldwoman,whosesupperwaswastingawayinafinewhiteflame.
Trouillefoumadeasign,andtheduke,theemperor,andthepassedmastersofpickpockets,andtheisolatedrobbers,cameandrangedthemselvesaroundhiminahorseshoe,ofwhichGringoire,stillroughlyheldbythebody,formedthecentre.
Itwasasemicircleofrags,tatters,tinsel,pitchforks,axes,legsstaggeringwithintoxication,huge,barearms,facessordid,dull,andstupid.
InthemidstofthisRoundTableofbeggary,ClopinTrouillefou,—asthedogeofthissenate,asthekingofthispeerage,asthepopeofthisconclave,—dominated;firstbyvirtueoftheheightofhishogshead,andnextbyvirtueofanindescribable,haughty,fierce,andformidableair,whichcausedhiseyestoflash,andcorrectedinhissavageprofilethebestialtypeoftheraceofvagabonds.
Onewouldhavepronouncedhimaboaramidaherdofswine.
"Listen,"saidhetoGringoire,fondlinghismisshapenchinwithhishornyhand;"Idon'tseewhyyoushouldnotbehung.
Itistruethatitappearstoberepugnanttoyou;anditisverynatural,foryoubourgeoisarenotaccustomedtoit.
Youformforyourselvesagreatideaofthething.Afterall,wedon'twishyouanyharm.
Hereisameansofextricatingyourselffromyourpredicamentforthemoment.Willyoubecomeoneofus?"
ThereadercanjudgeoftheeffectwhichthispropositionproduceduponGringoire,whobeheldlifeslippingawayfromhim,andwhowasbeginningtolosehisholduponit.Heclutchedatitagainwithenergy.
"CertainlyIwill,andrightheartily,"saidhe.
"Doyouconsent,"resumedClopin,"toenrollyourselfamongthepeopleoftheknife?"
"Oftheknife,precisely,"respondedGringoire.
"Yourecognizeyourselfasamemberofthefreebourgeoisie?"*addedtheKingofThunes.
*Ahigh–tonedsharper.
"Ofthefreebourgeoisie."
"SubjectoftheKingdomofArgot?"
"OftheKingdomofArgot*."
*Thieves.
"Avagabond?"
"Avagabond."
"Inyoursoul?"
"Inmysoul."
"Imustcallyourattentiontothefact,"continuedtheking,"thatyouwillbehungallthesame."
"Thedevil!"saidthepoet.
"Only,"continuedClopinimperturbably,"youwillbehunglateron,withmoreceremony,attheexpenseofthegoodcityofParis,onahandsomestonegibbet,andbyhonestmen.Thatisaconsolation."
"Justso,"respondedGringoire.
"Thereareotheradvantages.Inyourqualityofahigh–tonedsharper,youwillnothavetopaythetaxesonmud,orthepoor,orlanterns,towhichthebourgeoisofParisaresubject."
"Sobeit,"saidthepoet."Iagree.
Iamavagabond,athief,asharper,amanoftheknife,anythingyouplease;andIamallthatalready,monsieur,KingofThunes,forIamaphilosopher;~etomniainphilosophia,omnesinphilosophocontinentur~,—allthingsarecontainedinphilosophy,allmeninthephilosopher,asyouknow."
TheKingofThunesscowled.
"Whatdoyoutakemefor,myfriend?WhatHungarianJewpatterareyoujabberingatus?Idon'tknowHebrew.
Oneisn'taJewbecauseoneisabandit.Idon'tevenstealanylonger.I'mabovethat;Ikill.Cut–throat,yes;cutpurse,no."
Gringoiretriedtoslipinsomeexcusebetweenthesecurtwords,whichwrathrenderedmoreandmorejerky.
"Iaskyourpardon,monseigneur.ItisnotHebrew;'tisLatin."
"Itellyou,"resumedClopinangrily,"thatI'mnotaJew,andthatI'llhaveyouhung,bellyofthesynagogue,likethatlittleshopkeeperofJudea,whoisbyyourside,andwhomIentertainstronghopesofseeingnailedtoacounteroneofthesedays,likethecounterfeitcointhatheis!"
Sosaying,hepointedhisfingeratthelittle,beardedHungarianJewwhohadaccostedGringoirewithhis~facitotecaritatem~,andwho,understandingnootherlanguagebeheldwithsurprisetheKingofThunes'sill–humoroverflowuponhim.
AtlengthMonsieurClopincalmeddown.
"Soyouwillbeavagabond,youknave?"hesaidtoourpoet.
"Ofcourse,"repliedthepoet.
"Willingisnotall,"saidthesurlyClopin;"goodwilldoesn'tputoneonionthemoreintothesoup,and'tisgoodfornothingexcepttogotoParadisewith;now,Paradiseandthethieves'bandaretwodifferentthings.
Inordertobereceivedamongthethieves,*youmustprovethatyouaregoodforsomething,andforthatpurpose,youmustsearchthemanikin."
*L'argot.
"I'llsearchanythingyoulike,"saidGringoire.
Clopinmadeasign.Severalthievesdetachedthemselvesfromthecircle,andreturnedamomentlater.
Theybroughttwothickposts,terminatedattheirlowerextremitiesinspreadingtimbersupports,whichmadethemstandreadilyupontheground;totheupperextremityofthetwopoststheyfittedacross–beam,andthewholeconstitutedaveryprettyportablegibbet,whichGringoirehadthesatisfactionofbeholdingrisebeforehim,inatwinkling.
Nothingwaslacking,noteventherope,whichswunggracefullyoverthecross–beam.
"Whataretheygoingtodo?"Gringoireaskedhimselfwithsomeuneasiness.
Asoundofbells,whichheheardatthatmoment,putanendtohisanxiety;itwasastuffedmanikin,whichthevagabondsweresuspendingbytheneckfromtherope,asortofscarecrowdressedinred,andsohungwithmule–bellsandlargerbells,thatonemighthavetrickedoutthirtyCastilianmuleswiththem.
Thesethousandtinybellsquiveredforsometimewiththevibrationoftherope,thengraduallydiedaway,andfinallybecamesilentwhenthemanikinhadbeenbroughtintoastateofimmobilitybythatlawofthependulumwhichhasdethronedthewaterclockandthehour–glass.
ThenClopin,pointingouttoGringoirearicketyoldstoolplacedbeneaththemanikin,—"Climbupthere."
"Deathofthedevil!"objectedGringoire;"Ishallbreakmyneck.YourstoollimpslikeoneofMartial'sdistiches;ithasonehexameterlegandonepentameterleg."
"Climb!"repeatedClopin.
Gringoiremountedthestool,andsucceeded,notwithoutsomeoscillationsofheadandarms,inregaininghiscentreofgravity.
"Now,"wentontheKingofThunes,"twistyourrightfootroundyourleftleg,andriseonthetipofyourleftfoot."
"Monseigneur,"saidGringoire,"soyouabsolutelyinsistonmybreakingsomeoneofmylimbs?"
Clopintossedhishead.
"Harkye,myfriend,youtalktoomuch.Here'sthegistofthematterintwowords:youaretoriseontiptoe,asItellyou;inthatwayyouwillbeabletoreachthepocketofthemanikin,youwillrummageit,youwillpulloutthepursethatisthere,—andifyoudoallthiswithoutourhearingthesoundofabell,alliswell:youshallbeavagabond.
Allweshallthenhavetodo,willbetothrashyousoundlyforthespaceofaweek."
"~Ventre–Dieu~!Iwillbecareful,"saidGringoire."AndsupposeIdomakethebellssound?"
"Thenyouwillbehanged.Doyouunderstand?"
"Idon'tunderstandatall,"repliedGringoire.
"Listen,oncemore.Youaretosearchthemanikin,andtakeawayitspurse;ifasinglebellstirsduringtheoperation,youwillbehung.Doyouunderstandthat?"
"Good,"saidGringoire;"Iunderstandthat.Andthen?"
"Ifyousucceedinremovingthepursewithoutourhearingthebells,youareavagabond,andyouwillbethrashedforeightconsecutivedays.Youunderstandnow,nodoubt?"
"No,monseigneur;Inolongerunderstand.Whereistheadvantagetome?hangedinonecase,cudgelledintheother?"
"Andavagabond,"resumedClopin,"andavagabond;isthatnothing?Itisforyourinterestthatweshouldbeatyou,inordertohardenyoutoblows."
"Manythanks,"repliedthepoet.
"Come,makehaste,"saidtheking,stampinguponhiscask,whichresoundedlikeahugedrum!
Searchthemanikin,andlettherebeanendtothis!
Iwarnyouforthelasttime,thatifIhearasinglebell,youwilltaketheplaceofthemanikin."
ThebandofthievesapplaudedClopin'swords,andarrangedthemselvesinacircleroundthegibbet,withalaughsopitilessthatGringoireperceivedthatheamusedthemtoomuchnottohaveeverythingtofearfromthem.
Nohopewasleftforhim,accordingly,unlessitweretheslightchanceofsucceedingintheformidableoperationwhichwasimposeduponhim;hedecidedtoriskit,butitwasnotwithoutfirsthavingaddressedaferventprayertothemanikinhewasabouttoplunder,andwhowouldhavebeeneasiertomovetopitythanthevagabonds.
Thesemyriadbells,withtheirlittlecoppertongues,seemedtohimlikethemouthsofsomanyasps,openandreadytostingandtohiss.
"Oh!"hesaid,inaverylowvoice,"isitpossiblethatmylifedependsontheslightestvibrationoftheleastofthesebells?Oh!"
headded,withclaspedhands,"bells,donotring,hand–bellsdonotclang,mule–bellsdonotquiver!"
HemadeonemoreattemptuponTrouillefou.
"Andifthereshouldcomeagustofwind?"
"Youwillbehanged,"repliedtheother,withouthesitation.
Perceivingthatnorespite,norreprieve,norsubterfugewaspossible,hebravelydecideduponhiscourseofaction;hewoundhisrightfootroundhisleftleg,raisedhimselfonhisleftfoot,andstretchedouthisarm:butatthemomentwhenhishandtouchedthemanikin,hisbody,whichwasnowsupportedupononelegonly,waveredonthestoolwhichhadbutthree;hemadeaninvoluntaryefforttosupporthimselfbythemanikin,losthisbalance,andfellheavilytotheground,deafenedbythefatalvibrationofthethousandbellsofthemanikin,which,yieldingtotheimpulseimpartedbyhishand,describedfirstarotarymotion,andthenswayedmajesticallybetweenthetwoposts.
"Malediction!"hecriedashefell,andremainedasthoughdead,withhisfacetotheearth.
Meanwhile,heheardthedreadfulpealabovehishead,thediabolicallaughterofthevagabonds,andthevoiceofTrouillefousaying,—
"Pickmeupthatknave,andhanghimwithoutceremony."Herose.Theyhadalreadydetachedthemanikintomakeroomforhim.
Thethievesmadehimmountthestool,Clopincametohim,passedtheropeabouthisneck,and,tappinghimontheshoulder,—
"Adieu,myfriend.Youcan'tescapenow,evenifyoudigestedwiththepope'sguts."
Theword"Mercy!"diedawayuponGringoire'slips.Hecasthiseyesabouthim;buttherewasnohope:allwerelaughing.
"Bellevignedel'Etoile,"saidtheKingofThunestoanenormousvagabond,whosteppedoutfromtheranks,"climbuponthecrossbeam."
Bellevignedel'Etoilenimblymountedthetransversebeam,andinanotherminute,Gringoire,onraisinghiseyes,beheldhim,withterror,seateduponthebeamabovehishead.
"Now,"resumedClopinTrouillefou,"assoonasIclapmyhands,you,AndrytheRed,willflingthestooltothegroundwithablowofyourknee;you,FranoisChante–Prune,willclingtothefeetoftherascal;andyou,Bellevigne,willflingyourselfonhisshoulders;andallthreeatonce,doyouhear?"
Gringoireshuddered.
"Areyouready?"saidClopinTrouillefoutothethreethieves,whoheldthemselvesinreadinesstofalluponGringoire.
Amomentofhorriblesuspenseensuedforthepoorvictim,duringwhichClopintranquillythrustintothefirewiththetipofhisfoot,somebitsofvineshootswhichtheflamehadnotcaught."Areyouready?"
herepeated,andopenedhishandstoclap.
Onesecondmoreandallwouldhavebeenover.
Buthepaused,asthoughstruckbyasuddenthought.
"Onemoment!"saidhe;"Iforgot!
Itisourcustomnottohangamanwithoutinquiringwhetherthereisanywomanwhowantshim.Comrade,thisisyourlastresource.
Youmustwedeitherafemalevagabondorthenoose."
Thislawofthevagabonds,singularasitmaystrikethereader,remainsto–daywrittenoutatlength,inancientEnglishlegislation.(SeeBurington'sObservations.)
Gringoirebreathedagain.Thiswasthesecondtimethathehadreturnedtolifewithinanhour.Sohedidnotdaretotrusttoittooimplicitly.
"Holá!"criedClopin,mountedoncemoreuponhiscask,"holá!
women,females,isthereamongyou,fromthesorceresstohercat,awenchwhowantsthisrascal?Holá,ColettelaCharonne!ElisabethTrouvain!SimoneJodouyne!MariePiédebou!ThonnelaLongue!BérardeFanouel!MichelleGenaille!ClaudeRonge–oreille!MathurineGirorou!—Holá!Isabeau–la–Thierrye!Comeandsee!Amanfornothing!Whowantshim?"
Gringoire,nodoubt,wasnotveryappetizinginthismiserablecondition.
Thefemalevagabondsdidnotseemtobemuchaffectedbytheproposition.
Theunhappywretchheardthemanswer:"No!no!
hanghim;there'llbethemorefunforusall!"
Nevertheless,threeemergedfromthethrongandcametosmellofhim.
Thefirstwasabigwench,withasquareface.
Sheexaminedthephilosopher'sdeplorabledoubletattentively.
Hisgarmentwasworn,andmorefullofholesthanastoveforroastingchestnuts.Thegirlmadeawryface."Oldrag!"
shemuttered,andaddressingGringoire,"Let'sseeyourcloak!""Ihavelostit,"repliedGringoire."Yourhat?""Theytookitawayfromme.""Yourshoes?""Theyhavehardlyanysolesleft.""Yourpurse?""Alas!"
stammeredGringoire,"Ihavenotevenasou."
"Letthemhangyou,then,andsay'Thankyou!'"
retortedthevagabondwench,turningherbackonhim.
Thesecond,—old,black,wrinkled,hideous,withanuglinessconspicuousevenintheCourdesMiracles,trottedroundGringoire.
Healmosttrembledlestsheshouldwanthim.
Butshemumbledbetweenherteeth,"He'stoothin,"andwentoff.
Thethirdwasayounggirl,quitefresh,andnottoougly."Saveme!"
saidthepoorfellowtoher,inalowtone.
Shegazedathimforamomentwithanairofpity,thendroppedhereyes,madeaplaitinherpetticoat,andremainedinindecision.
Hefollowedallthesemovementswithhiseyes;itwasthelastgleamofhope.
"No,"saidtheyounggirl,atlength,"no!GuillaumeLonguejouewouldbeatme."Sheretreatedintothecrowd.
"Youareunlucky,comrade,"saidClopin.
Thenrisingtohisfeet,uponhishogshead.
"Noonewantshim,"heexclaimed,imitatingtheaccentofanauctioneer,tothegreatdelightofall;"noonewantshim?once,twice,threetimes!"
and,turningtowardsthegibbetwithasignofhishand,"Gone!"
Bellevignedel'Etoile,AndrytheRed,FranoisChante–Prune,steppeduptoGringoire.
Atthatmomentacryaroseamongthethieves:"LaEsmeralda!LaEsmeralda!"
Gringoireshuddered,andturnedtowardsthesidewhencetheclamorproceeded.
Thecrowdopened,andgavepassagetoapureanddazzlingform.
Itwasthegypsy.
"LaEsmeralda!"saidGringoire,stupefiedinthemidstofhisemotions,bytheabruptmannerinwhichthatmagicwordknottedtogetherallhisreminiscencesoftheday.
Thisrarecreatureseemed,evenintheCourdesMiracles,toexerciseherswayofcharmandbeauty.
Thevagabonds,maleandfemale,rangedthemselvesgentlyalongherpath,andtheirbrutalfacesbeamedbeneathherglance.
Sheapproachedthevictimwithherlightstep.HerprettyDjalifollowedher.Gringoirewasmoredeadthanalive.Sheexaminedhimforamomentinsilence.
"Youaregoingtohangthisman?"shesaidgravely,toClopin.
"Yes,sister,"repliedtheKingofThunes,"unlessyouwilltakehimforyourhusband."
Shemadeherprettylittlepoutwithherunderlip."I'lltakehim,"saidshe.
Gringoirefirmlybelievedthathehadbeeninadreameversincemorning,andthatthiswasthecontinuationofit.
Thechangewas,infact,violent,thoughagratifyingone.Theyundidthenoose,andmadethepoetstepdownfromthestool.Hisemotionwassolivelythathewasobligedtositdown.
TheDukeofEgyptbroughtanearthenwarecrock,withoututteringaword.ThegypsyofferedittoGringoire:"Flingitontheground,"saidshe.
Thecrockbrokeintofourpieces.
"Brother,"thensaidtheDukeofEgypt,layinghishandsupontheirforeheads,"sheisyourwife;sister,heisyourhusbandforfouryears.Go."
Share this article to
FINISH