English
Afewmomentslaterourpoetfoundhimselfinatinyarchedchamber,verycosy,verywarm,seatedatatablewhichappearedtoasknothingbetterthantomakesomeloansfromalarderhangingnearby,havingagoodbedinprospect,andalonewithaprettygirl.Theadventuresmackedofenchantment.
Hebeganseriouslytotakehimselfforapersonageinafairytale;hecasthiseyesabouthimfromtimetotimetotime,asthoughtoseeifthechariotoffire,harnessedtotwo–wingedchimeras,whichalonecouldhavesorapidlytransportedhimfromTartarustoParadise,werestillthere.
Attimes,also,hefixedhiseyesobstinatelyupontheholesinhisdoublet,inordertoclingtoreality,andnotlosethegroundfromunderhisfeetcompletely.
Hisreason,tossedaboutinimaginaryspace,nowhungonlybythisthread.
Theyounggirldidnotappeartopayanyattentiontohim;shewentandcame,displacedastool,talkedtohergoat,andindulgedinapoutnowandthen.
Atlastshecameandseatedherselfnearthetable,andGringoirewasabletoscrutinizeherathisease.
Youhavebeenachild,reader,andyouwould,perhaps,beveryhappytobeonestill.
Itisquitecertainthatyouhavenot,morethanonce(andformypart,Ihavepassedwholedays,thebestemployedofmylife,atit)followedfromthickettothicket,bythesideofrunningwater,onasunnyday,abeautifulgreenorbluedragon–fly,breakingitsflightinabruptangles,andkissingthetipsofallthebranches.
Yourecollectwithwhatamorouscuriosityyourthoughtandyourgazewereriveteduponthislittlewhirlwind,hissingandhummingwithwingsofpurpleandazure,inthemidstofwhichfloatedanimperceptiblebody,veiledbytheveryrapidityofitsmovement.
Theaerialbeingwhichwasdimlyoutlinedamidthisquiveringofwings,appearedtoyouchimerical,imaginary,impossibletotouch,impossibletosee.
Butwhen,atlength,thedragon–flyalightedonthetipofareed,and,holdingyourbreaththewhile,youwereabletoexaminethelong,gauzewings,thelongenamelrobe,thetwoglobesofcrystal,whatastonishmentyoufelt,andwhatfearlestyoushouldagainbeholdtheformdisappearintoashade,andthecreatureintoachimera!
Recalltheseimpressions,andyouwillreadilyappreciatewhatGringoirefeltoncontemplating,beneathhervisibleandpalpableform,thatEsmeraldaofwhom,uptothattime,hehadonlycaughtaglimpse,amidstawhirlwindofdance,song,andtumult.
Sinkingdeeperanddeeperintohisrevery:"Sothis,"hesaidtohimself,followinghervaguelywithhiseyes,"islaEsmeralda!acelestialcreature!astreetdancer!somuch,andsolittle!
'Twasshewhodealtthedeath–blowtomymysterythismorning,'tisshewhosavesmylifethisevening!Myevilgenius!Mygoodangel!Aprettywoman,onmyword!
andwhomustneedslovememadlytohavetakenmeinthatfashion.
Bytheway,"saidhe,risingsuddenly,withthatsentimentofthetruewhichformedthefoundationofhischaracterandhisphilosophy,"Idon'tknowverywellhowithappens,butIamherhusband!"
Withthisideainhisheadandinhiseyes,hesteppeduptotheyounggirlinamannersomilitaryandsogallantthatshedrewback.
"Whatdoyouwantofme?"saidshe.
"Canyouaskme,adorableEsmeralda?"repliedGringoire,withsopassionateanaccentthathewashimselfastonishedatitonhearinghimselfspeak.
Thegypsyopenedhergreateyes."Idon'tknowwhatyoumean."
"What!"resumedGringoire,growingwarmerandwarmer,andsupposingthat,afterall,hehadtodealmerelywithavirtueoftheCourdesMiracles;"amInotthine,sweetfriend,artthounotmine?"
And,quiteingenuously,heclaspedherwaist.
Thegypsy'scorsageslippedthroughhishandsliketheskinofaneel.
Sheboundedfromoneendofthetinyroomtotheother,stoopeddown,andraisedherselfagain,withalittleponiardinherhand,beforeGringoirehadevenhadtimetoseewhencetheponiardcame;proudandangry,withswellinglipsandinflatednostrils,hercheeksasredasanapiapple,*andhereyesdartinglightnings.
Atthesametime,thewhitegoatplaceditselfinfrontofher,andpresentedtoGringoireahostilefront,bristlingwithtwoprettyhorns,gildedandverysharp.
Allthistookplaceinthetwinklingofaneye.
*Asmalldessertapple,brightredononesideandgreenish–whiteontheother.
Thedragon–flyhadturnedintoawasp,andaskednothingbetterthantosting.
Ourphilosopherwasspeechless,andturnedhisastonishedeyesfromthegoattotheyounggirl."HolyVirgin!"hesaidatlast,whensurprisepermittedhimtospeak,"herearetwoheartydames!"
Thegypsybrokethesilenceonherside.
"Youmustbeaveryboldknave!"
"Pardon,mademoiselle,"saidGringoire,withasmile."Butwhydidyoutakemeforyourhusband?"
"ShouldIhaveallowedyoutobehanged?"
"So,"saidthepoet,somewhatdisappointedinhisamoroushopes."Youhadnootherideainmarryingmethantosavemefromthegibbet?"
"AndwhatotherideadidyousupposethatIhad?"
Gringoirebithislips."Come,"saidhe,"IamnotyetsotriumphantinCupido,asIthought.Butthen,whatwasthegoodofbreakingthatpoorjug?"
MeanwhileEsmeralda'sdaggerandthegoat'shornswerestilluponthedefensive.
"MademoiselleEsmeralda,"saidthepoet,"letuscometoterms.
Iamnotaclerkofthecourt,andIshallnotgotolawwithyouforthuscarryingadaggerinParis,intheteethoftheordinancesandprohibitionsofM.theProvost.
Nevertheless,youarenotignorantofthefactthatNoelLescrivainwascondemned,aweekago,topaytenParisiansous,forhavingcarriedacutlass.
Butthisisnoaffairofmine,andIwillcometothepoint.
Isweartoyou,uponmyshareofParadise,nottoapproachyouwithoutyourleaveandpermission,butdogivemesomesupper."
Thetruthis,Gringoirewas,likeM.Despreaux,"notveryvoluptuous."
Hedidnotbelongtothatchevalierandmusketeerspecies,whotakeyounggirlsbyassault.
Inthematteroflove,asinallotheraffairs,hewillinglyassentedtotemporizingandadjustingterms;andagoodsupper,andanamiablette–a–tteappearedtohim,especiallywhenhewashungry,anexcellentinterludebetweentheprologueandthecatastropheofaloveadventure.
Thegypsydidnotreply.Shemadeherdisdainfullittlegrimace,drewupherheadlikeabird,thenburstoutlaughing,andthetinyponiarddisappearedasithadcome,withoutGringoirebeingabletoseewherethewaspconcealeditssting.
Amomentlater,therestooduponthetablealoafofryebread,asliceofbacon,somewrinkledapplesandajugofbeer.Gringoirebegantoeateagerly.
Onewouldhavesaid,tohearthefuriousclashingofhisironforkandhisearthenwareplate,thatallhislovehadturnedtoappetite.
Theyounggirlseatedoppositehim,watchedhiminsilence,visiblypreoccupiedwithanotherthought,atwhichshesmiledfromtimetotime,whilehersofthandcaressedtheintelligentheadofthegoat,gentlypressedbetweenherknees.
Acandleofyellowwaxilluminatedthissceneofvoracityandrevery.
Meanwhile,thefirstcravingsofhisstomachhavingbeenstilled,Gringoirefeltsomefalseshameatperceivingthatnothingremainedbutoneapple.
"Youdonoteat,MademoiselleEsmeralda?"
Sherepliedbyanegativesignofthehead,andherpensiveglancefixeditselfuponthevaultoftheceiling.
"Whatthedeuceisshethinkingof?"thoughtGringoire,staringatwhatshewasgazingat;"'tisimpossiblethatitcanbethatstonedwarfcarvedinthekeystoneofthatarch,whichthusabsorbsherattention.Whatthedeuce!Icanbearthecomparison!"
Heraisedhisvoice,"Mademoiselle!"
Sheseemednottohearhim.
Herepeated,stillmoreloudly,"MademoiselleEsmeralda!"
Troublewasted.Theyounggirl'smindwaselsewhere,andGringoire'svoicehadnotthepowertorecallit.Fortunately,thegoatinterfered.Shebegantopullhermistressgentlybythesleeve.
"Whatdostthouwant,Djali?"saidthegypsy,hastily,asthoughsuddenlyawakened.
"Sheishungry,"saidGringoire,charmedtoenterintoconversation.Esmeraldabegantocrumblesomebread,whichDjaliategracefullyfromthehollowofherhand.
Moreover,Gringoiredidnotgivehertimetoresumeherrevery.Hehazardedadelicatequestion.
"Soyoudon'twantmeforyourhusband?"
Theyounggirllookedathimintently,andsaid,"No."
"Foryourlover?"wentonGringoire.
Shepouted,andreplied,"No."
"Foryourfriend?"pursuedGringoire.
Shegazedfixedlyathimagain,andsaid,afteramomentaryreflection,"Perhaps."
This"perhaps,"sodeartophilosophers,emboldenedGringoire.
"Doyouknowwhatfriendshipis?"heasked.
"Yes,"repliedthegypsy;"itistobebrotherandsister;twosoulswhichtouchwithoutmingling,twofingersononehand."
"Andlove?"pursuedGringoire.
"Oh!love!"saidshe,andhervoicetrembled,andhereyebeamed."Thatistobetwoandtobebutone.Amanandawomanmingledintooneangel.Itisheaven."
Thestreetdancerhadabeautyasshespokethus,thatstruckGringoiresingularly,andseemedtohiminperfectkeepingwiththealmostorientalexaltationofherwords.
Herpure,redlipshalfsmiled;hersereneandcandidbrowbecametroubled,atintervals,underherthoughts,likeamirrorunderthebreath;andfrombeneathherlong,drooping,blackeyelashes,thereescapedasortofineffablelight,whichgavetoherprofilethatidealserenitywhichRaphaelfoundatthemysticpointofintersectionofvirginity,maternity,anddivinity.
Nevertheless,Gringoirecontinued,—
"Whatmustonebethen,inordertopleaseyou?"
"Aman."
"AndI—"saidhe,"what,then,amI?"
"Amanhasahemletonhishead,aswordinhishand,andgoldenspursonhisheels."
"Good,"saidGringoire,"withoutahorse,noman.Doyouloveanyone?"
"Asalover?—"
"Yes."
Sheremainedthoughtfulforamoment,thensaidwithapeculiarexpression:"ThatIshallknowsoon."
"Whynotthisevening?"resumedthepoettenderly."Whynotme?"
Shecastagraveglanceuponhimandsaid,—
"Icanneverloveamanwhocannotprotectme."
Gringoirecolored,andtookthehint.Itwasevidentthattheyounggirlwasalludingtotheslightassistancewhichhehadrenderedherinthecriticalsituationinwhichshehadfoundherselftwohourspreviously.
Thismemory,effacedbyhisownadventuresoftheevening,nowrecurredtohim.Hesmotehisbrow.
"Bytheway,mademoiselle,Ioughttohavebegunthere.Pardonmyfoolishabsenceofmind.HowdidyoucontrivetoescapefromtheclawsofQuasimodo?"
Thisquestionmadethegypsyshudder.
"Oh!thehorriblehunchback,"saidshe,hidingherfaceinherhands.Andsheshudderedasthoughwithviolentcold.
"Horrible,intruth,"saidGringoire,whoclungtohisidea;"buthowdidyoumanagetoescapehim?"
LaEsmeraldasmiled,sighed,andremainedsilent.
"Doyouknowwhyhefollowedyou?"beganGringoireagain,seekingtoreturntohisquestionbyacircuitousroute.
"Idon'tknow,"saidtheyounggirl,andsheaddedhastily,"butyouwerefollowingmealso,whywereyoufollowingme?"
"Ingoodfaith,"respondedGringoire,"Idon'tknoweither."
Silenceensued.Gringoireslashedthetablewithhisknife.Theyounggirlsmiledandseemedtobegazingthroughthewallatsomething.Allatonceshebegantosinginabarelyarticulatevoice,—
~Quandolaspintadasaves,Mudasestan,ylatierra~—*
*Whenthegay–plumagedbirdsgrowweary,andtheearth—
Shebrokeoffabruptly,andbegantocaressDjali.
"That'saprettyanimalofyours,"saidGringoire.
"Sheismysister,"sheanswered.
"Whyareyoucalled'laEsmeralda?'"askedthepoet.
"Idonotknow."
"Butwhy?"
Shedrewfromherbosomasortoflittleoblongbag,suspendedfromherneckbyastringofadrézarachbeads.
Thisbagexhaledastrongodorofcamphor.
Itwascoveredwithgreensilk,andboreinitscentrealargepieceofgreenglass,inimitationofanemerald.
"Perhapsitisbecauseofthis,"saidshe.
Gringoirewasonthepointoftakingthebaginhishand.Shedrewback.
"Don'ttouchit!Itisanamulet.Youwouldinjurethecharmorthecharmwouldinjureyou."
Thepoet'scuriositywasmoreandmorearoused.
"Whogaveittoyou?"
Shelaidonefingeronhermouthandconcealedtheamuletinherbosom.Hetriedafewmorequestions,butshehardlyreplied.
"Whatisthemeaningofthewords,'laEsmeralda?'"
"Idon'tknow,"saidshe.
"Towhatlanguagedotheybelong?"
"TheyareEgyptian,Ithink."
"Isuspectedasmuch,"saidGringoire,"youarenotanativeofFrance?"
"Idon'tknow."
"Areyourparentsalive?"
Shebegantosing,toanancientair,—~Monpreestoiseau,Mamreestoiselle.BJepassel'eausansnacelle,Jepassel'eausansbateau,Mamreestoiselle,Monpreestoiseau~.*
*Myfatherisabird,mymotherisabird.Icrossthewaterwithoutabarque,Icrossthewaterwithoutaboat.Mymotherisabird,myfatherisabird.
"Good,"saidGringoire."AtwhatagedidyoucometoFrance?"
"WhenIwasveryyoung."
"AndwhentoParis?"
"Lastyear.AtthemomentwhenwewereenteringthepapalgateIsawareedwarblerflitthroughtheair,thatwasattheendofAugust;Isaid,itwillbeahardwinter."
"Soitwas,"saidGringoire,delightedatthisbeginningofaconversation."Ipasseditinblowingmyfingers.Soyouhavethegiftofprophecy?"
Sheretiredintoherlaconicsagain.
"IsthatmanwhomyoucalltheDukeofEgypt,thechiefofyourtribe?"
"Yes."
"Butitwashewhomarriedus,"remarkedthepoettimidly.
Shemadehercustomaryprettygrimace.
"Idon'tevenknowyourname."
"Myname?Ifyouwantit,hereitis,—PierreGringoire."
"Iknowaprettierone,"saidshe.
"Naughtygirl!"retortedthepoet."Nevermind,youshallnotprovokeme.
Wait,perhapsyouwilllovememorewhenyouknowmebetter;andthen,youhavetoldmeyourstorywithsomuchconfidence,thatIoweyoualittleofmine.
Youmustknow,then,thatmynameisPierreGringoire,andthatIamasonofthefarmerofthenotary'sofficeofGonesse.
MyfatherwashungbytheBurgundians,andmymotherdisembowelledbythePicards,atthesiegeofParis,twentyyearsago.
Atsixyearsofage,therefore,Iwasanorphan,withoutasoletomyfootexceptthepavementsofParis.
IdonotknowhowIpassedtheintervalfromsixtosixteen.
Afruitdealergavemeaplumhere,abakerflungmeacrustthere;intheeveningIgotmyselftakenupbythewatch,whothrewmeintoprison,andthereIfoundabundleofstraw.
Allthisdidnotpreventmygrowingupandgrowingthin,asyousee.
InthewinterIwarmedmyselfinthesun,undertheporchoftheHôteldeSens,andIthoughtitveryridiculousthatthefireonSaintJohn'sDaywasreservedforthedogdays.
Atsixteen,Iwishedtochooseacalling.Itriedallinsuccession.
Ibecameasoldier;butIwasnotbraveenough.
Ibecameamonk;butIwasnotsufficientlydevout;andthenI'mabadhandatdrinking.
Indespair,Ibecameanapprenticeofthewoodcutters,butIwasnotstrongenough;Ihadmoreofaninclinationtobecomeaschoolmaster;'tistruethatIdidnotknowhowtoread,butthat'snoreason.
Iperceivedattheendofacertaintime,thatIlackedsomethingineverydirection;andseeingthatIwasgoodfornothing,ofmyownfreewillIbecameapoetandrhymester.
Thatisatradewhichonecanalwaysadoptwhenoneisavagabond,andit'sbetterthanstealing,assomeyoungbrigandsofmyacquaintanceadvisedmetodo.
OnedayImetbyluck,DomClaudeFrollo,thereverendarchdeaconofNotre–Dame.
Hetookaninterestinme,anditistohimthatIto–dayoweitthatIamaveritablemanofletters,whoknowsLatinfromthe~deOfficiis~ofCicerotothemortuologyoftheCelestineFathers,andabarbarianneitherinscholastics,norinpolitics,norinrhythmics,thatsophismofsophisms.
IamtheauthoroftheMysterywhichwaspresentedto–daywithgreattriumphandagreatconcourseofpopulace,inthegrandhallofthePalaisdeJustice.
Ihavealsomadeabookwhichwillcontainsixhundredpages,onthewonderfulcometof1465,whichsentonemanmad.Ihaveenjoyedstillothersuccesses.
Beingsomewhatofanartillerycarpenter,IlentahandtoJeanMangue'sgreatbombard,whichburst,asyouknow,onthedaywhenitwastested,onthePontdeCharenton,andkilledfourandtwentycuriousspectators.
YouseethatIamnotabadmatchinmarriage.
Iknowagreatmanysortsofveryengagingtricks,whichIwillteachyourgoat;forexample,tomimictheBishopofParis,thatcursedPhariseewhosemillwheelssplashpassers–bythewholelengthofthePontauxMeuniers.
Andthenmymysterywillbringmeinagreatdealofcoinedmoney,iftheywillonlypayme.
Andfinally,Iamatyourorders,Iandmywits,andmyscienceandmyletters,readytolivewithyou,damsel,asitshallpleaseyou,chastelyorjoyously;husbandandwife,ifyouseefit;brotherandsister,ifyouthinkthatbetter."
Gringoireceased,awaitingtheeffectofhisharangueontheyounggirl.Hereyeswerefixedontheground.
"'Phoebus,'"shesaidinalowvoice.Then,turningtowardsthepoet,"'Phoebus',—whatdoesthatmean?"
Gringoire,withoutexactlyunderstandingwhattheconnectioncouldbebetweenhisaddressandthisquestion,wasnotsorrytodisplayhiserudition.Assuminganairofimportance,hereplied,—
"ItisaLatinwordwhichmeans'sun.'"
"Sun!"sherepeated.
"Itisthenameofahandsomearcher,whowasagod,"addedGringoire.
"Agod!"repeatedthegypsy,andtherewassomethingpensiveandpassionateinhertone.
Atthatmoment,oneofherbraceletsbecameunfastenedandfell.
Gringoirestoopedquicklytopickitup;whenhestraightenedup,theyounggirlandthegoathaddisappeared.Heheardthesoundofabolt.
Itwasalittledoor,communicating,nodoubt,withaneighboringcell,whichwasbeingfastenedontheoutside.
"Hassheleftmeabed,atleast?"saidourphilosopher.
Hemadethetourofhiscell.Therewasnopieceoffurnitureadaptedtosleepingpurposes,exceptatolerablylongwoodencoffer;anditscoverwascarved,toboot;whichaffordedGringoire,whenhestretchedhimselfoutuponit,asensationsomewhatsimilartothatwhichMicromégaswouldfeelifheweretoliedownontheAlps.
"Come!"saidhe,adjustinghimselfaswellaspossible,"Imustresignmyself.Buthere'sastrangenuptialnight.'Tisapity.
Therewassomethinginnocentandantediluvianaboutthatbrokencrock,whichquitepleasedme."
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