English
AssoonasPierreGringoirehadseenhowthiswholeaffairwasturning,andthattherewoulddecidedlybetherope,hanging,andotherdisagreeablethingsfortheprincipalpersonagesinthiscomedy,hehadnotcaredtoidentifyhimselfwiththematterfurther.
Theoutcastswithwhomhehadremained,reflectingthat,afterall,itwasthebestcompanyinParis,—theoutcastshadcontinuedtointerestthemselvesinbehalfofthegypsy.
Hehadthoughtitverysimpleonthepartofpeoplewhohad,likeherself,nothingelseinprospectbutCharmolueandTorterue,andwho,unlikehimself,didnotgallopthroughtheregionsofimaginationbetweenthewingsofPegasus.
Fromtheirremarks,hehadlearnedthathiswifeofthebrokencrockhadtakenrefugeinNotre–Dame,andhewasverygladofit.
Buthefeltnotemptationtogoandseeherthere.
Hemeditatedoccasionallyonthelittlegoat,andthatwasall.
Moreover,hewasbusyexecutingfeatsofstrengthduringthedayforhisliving,andatnighthewasengagedincomposingamemorialagainsttheBishopofParis,forherememberedhavingbeendrenchedbythewheelsofhismills,andhecherishedagrudgeagainsthimforit.
HealsooccupiedhimselfwithannotatingthefineworkofBaudry–le–Rouge,BishopofNoyonandTournay,DeCupaPetrarum,whichhadgivenhimaviolentpassionforarchitecture,aninclinationwhichhadreplacedinhishearthispassionforhermeticism,ofwhichitwas,moreover,onlyanaturalcorollary,sincethereisanintimaterelationbetweenhermeticismandmasonry.
Gringoirehadpassedfromtheloveofanideatotheloveoftheformofthatidea.
OnedayhehadhaltednearSaintGermain–l'Auxerrois,atthecornerofamansioncalled"For–l'Evque"(theBishop'sTribunal),whichstoodoppositeanothercalled"For–le–Roi"(theKing'sTribunal).
AtthisFor–l'Evque,therewasacharmingchapelofthefourteenthcentury,whoseapsewasonthestreet.
Gringoirewasdevoutlyexaminingitsexteriorsculptures.
Hewasinoneofthosemomentsofegotistical,exclusive,supreme,enjoymentwhentheartistbeholdsnothingintheworldbutart,andtheworldinart.
Allatoncehefeelsahandlaidgravelyonhisshoulder.Heturnsround.
Itwashisoldfriend,hisformermaster,monsieurthearchdeacon.
Hewasstupefied.Itwasalongtimesincehehadseenthearchdeacon,andDomClaudewasoneofthosesolemnandimpassionedmen,ameetingwithwhomalwaysupsetstheequilibriumofascepticalphilosopher.
Thearchdeaconmaintainedsilenceforseveralminutes,duringwhichGringoirehadtimetoobservehim.
HefoundDomClaudegreatlychanged;paleasawinter'smorning,withholloweyes,andhairalmostwhite.
Thepriestbrokethesilenceatlength,bysaying,inatranquilbutglacialtone,—
"Howdoyoudo,MasterPierre?"
"Myhealth?"repliedGringoire."Eh!eh!
onecansaybothonethingandanotheronthatscore.Still,itisgood,onthewhole.Itakenottoomuchofanything.
Youknow,master,thatthesecretofkeepingwell,accordingtoHippocrates;~idest:cibi,potus,somni,venus,omniamoderatasint~."
"Soyouhavenocare,MasterPierre?"resumedthearchdeacon,gazingintentlyatGringoire.
"None,i'faith!"
"Andwhatareyoudoingnow?"
"Yousee,master.Iamexaminingthechisellingofthesestones,andthemannerinwhichyonderbas–reliefisthrownout."
Thepriestbegantosmilewiththatbittersmilewhichraisesonlyonecornerofthemouth.
"Andthatamusesyou?"
"'Tisparadise!"exclaimedGringoire.
Andleaningoverthesculptureswiththefascinatedairofademonstratoroflivingphenomena:"Doyounotthink,forinstance,thatyonmetamorphosisinbas–reliefisexecutedwithmuchadroitness,delicacyandpatience?Observethatslendercolumn.
Aroundwhatcapitalhaveyouseenfoliagemoretenderandbettercaressedbythechisel.
HerearethreeraisedbossesofJeanMaillevin.
Theyarenotthefinestworksofthisgreatmaster.
Nevertheless,thenaivete,thesweetnessofthefaces,thegayetyoftheattitudesanddraperies,andthatinexplicablecharmwhichismingledwithallthedefects,renderthelittlefiguresverydivertinganddelicate,perchance,eventoomuchso.Youthinkthatitisnotdiverting?"
"Yes,certainly!"saidthepriest.
"Andifyouweretoseetheinteriorofthechapel!"
resumedthepoet,withhisgarrulousenthusiasm."Carvingseverywhere.
'Tisasthicklyclusteredastheheadofacabbage!
Theapseisofaverydevout,andsopeculiarafashionthatIhaveneverbeheldanythinglikeitelsewhere!"
DomClaudeinterruptedhim,—
"Youarehappy,then?"
Gringoirerepliedwarmly;—
"Onmyhonor,yes!FirstIlovedwomen,thenanimals.NowIlovestones.Theyarequiteasamusingaswomenandanimals,andlesstreacherous."
Thepriestlaidhishandonhisbrow.Itwashishabitualgesture.
"Really?"
"Stay!"saidGringoire,"onehasone'spleasures!"
Hetookthearmofthepriest,wholethimhavehisway,andmadehimenterthestaircaseturretofFor–l'Evque."Hereisastaircase!everytimethatIseeitIamhappy.
ItisofthesimplestandrarestmannerofstepsinParis.Allthestepsarebevelledunderneath.
Itsbeautyandsimplicityconsistintheinterspacingofboth,beingafootormorewide,whichareinterlaced,interlocked,fittedtogether,enchainedenchased,interlinedoneuponanother,andbiteintoeachotherinamannerthatistrulyfirmandgraceful."
"Andyoudesirenothing?"
"No."
"Andyouregretnothing?"
"Neitherregretnordesire.Ihavearrangedmymodeoflife."
"Whatmenarrange,"saidClaude,"thingsdisarrange."
"IamaPyrrhonianphilosopher,"repliedGringoire,"andIholdallthingsinequilibrium."
"Andhowdoyouearnyourliving?"
"Istillmakeepicsandtragediesnowandthen;butthatwhichbringsmeinmostistheindustrywithwhichyouareacquainted,master;carryingpyramidsofchairsinmyteeth."
"Thetradeisbutaroughoneforaphilosopher."
"'Tisstillequilibrium,"saidGringoire."Whenonehasanidea,oneencountersitineverything."
"Iknowthat,"repliedthearchdeacon.
Afterasilence,thepriestresumed,—
"Youare,nevertheless,tolerablypoor?"
"Poor,yes;unhappy,no."
Atthatmoment,atramplingofhorseswasheard,andourtwointerlocutorsbehelddefilingattheendofthestreet,acompanyoftheking'sunattachedarchers,theirlancesbornehigh,anofficerattheirhead.
Thecavalcadewasbrilliant,anditsmarchresoundedonthepavement.
"Howyougazeatthatofficer!"saidGringoire,tothearchdeacon.
"BecauseIthinkIrecognizehim."
"Whatdoyoucallhim?"
"Ithink,"saidClaude,"thathisnameisPhoebusdeChâteaupers."
"Phoebus!Acuriousname!ThereisalsoaPhoebus,ComtedeFoix.IrememberhavingknownawenchwhosworeonlybythenameofPhoebus."
"Comeawayfromhere,"saidthepriest."Ihavesomethingtosaytoyou."
Fromthemomentofthattroop'spassing,someagitationhadpiercedthroughthearchdeacon'sglacialenvelope.Hewalkedon.
Gringoirefollowedhim,beingaccustomedtoobeyhim,likeallwhohadonceapproachedthatmansofullofascendency.
TheyreachedinsilencetheRuedesBernardins,whichwasnearlydeserted.HereDomClaudepaused.
"Whathaveyoutosaytome,master?"Gringoireaskedhim.
"Doyounotthinkthatthedressofthosecavalierswhomwehavejustseenisfarhandsomerthanyoursandmine?"
Gringoiretossedhishead.
"I'faith!Ilovebettermyredandyellowjerkin,thanthosescalesofironandsteel.Afinepleasuretoproduce,whenyouwalk,thesamenoiseastheQuayofOldIron,inanearthquake!"
"So,Gringoire,youhavenevercherishedenvyforthosehandsomefellowsintheirmilitarydoublets?"
"Envyforwhat,monsieurthearchdeacon?theirstrength,theirarmor,theirdiscipline?Betterphilosophyandindependenceinrags.Iprefertobetheheadofaflyratherthanthetailofalion."
"Thatissingular,"saidthepriestdreamily."Yetahandsomeuniformisabeautifulthing."
Gringoire,perceivingthathewasinapensivemood,quittedhimtogoandadmiretheporchofaneighboringhouse.Hecamebackclappinghishands.
"Ifyouwerelessengrossedwiththefineclothesofmenofwar,monsieurthearchdeacon,Iwouldentreatyoutocomeandseethisdoor.
IhavealwayssaidthatthehouseoftheSieurAubryhadthemostsuperbentranceintheworld."
"PierreGringoire,"saidthearchdeacon,"Whathaveyoudonewiththatlittlegypsydancer?"
"LaEsmeralda?Youchangetheconversationveryabruptly."
"Wasshenotyourwife?"
"Yes,byvirtueofabrokencrock.Weweretohavefouryearsofit.Bytheway,"addedGringoire,lookingatthearchdeaconinahalfbanteringway,"areyoustillthinkingofher?"
"Andyouthinkofhernolonger?"
"Verylittle.Ihavesomanythings.Goodheavens,howprettythatlittlegoatwas!"
"Hadshenotsavedyourlife?"
"'Tistrue,pardieu!"
"Well,whathasbecomeofher?Whathaveyoudonewithher?"
"Icannottellyou.Ibelievethattheyhavehangedher."
"Youbelieveso?"
"Iamnotsure.WhenIsawthattheywantedtohangpeople,Iretiredfromthegame."
"Thatisallyouknowofit?"
"Waitabit.IwastoldthatshehadtakenrefugeinNotre–Dame,andthatshewassafethere,andIamdelightedtohearit,andIhavenotbeenabletodiscoverwhetherthegoatwassavedwithher,andthatisallIknow."
"Iwilltellyoumore,"criedDomClaude;andhisvoice,hithertolow,slow,andalmostindistinct,turnedtothunder.
"Shehasinfact,takenrefugeinNotre–Dame.
Butinthreedaysjusticewillreclaimher,andshewillbehangedontheGrève.Thereisadecreeofparliament."
"That'sannoying,"saidGringoire.
Thepriest,inaninstant,becamecoldandcalmagain.
"Andwhothedevil,"resumedthepoet,"hasamusedhimselfwithsolicitingadecreeofreintegration?
Whycouldn'ttheyleaveparliamentinpeace?
WhatharmdoesitdoifapoorgirltakesshelterundertheflyingbuttressesofNotre–Dame,besidetheswallows'nests?"
"Therearesatansinthisworld,"remarkedthearchdeacon.
"'Tisdevilishbadlydone,"observedGringoire.
Thearchdeaconresumedafterasilence,—
"So,shesavedyourlife?"
"Amongmygoodfriendstheoutcasts.AlittlemoreoralittlelessandIshouldhavebeenhanged.Theywouldhavebeensorryforitto–day."
"Wouldnotyouliketodosomethingforher?"
"Iasknothingbetter,DomClaude;butwhatifIentanglemyselfinsomevillanousaffair?"
"Whatmattersit?"
"Bah!whatmattersit?Youaregood,master,thatyouare!Ihavetwogreatworksalreadybegun."
Thepriestsmotehisbrow.Inspiteofthecalmwhichheaffected,aviolentgesturebetrayedhisinternalconvulsionsfromtimetotime.
"Howisshetobesaved?"
Gringoiresaidtohim;"Master,Iwillreplytoyou;~Ilpadelt~,whichmeansinTurkish,'Godisourhope.'"
"Howisshetobesaved?"repeatedClaudedreamily.
Gringoiresmotehisbrowinhisturn.
"Listen,master.Ihaveimagination;Iwilldeviseexpedientsforyou.Whatifoneweretoaskherpardonfromtheking?"
"OfLouisXI.!Apardon!"
"Whynot?"
"Totakethetiger'sbonefromhim!"
Gringoirebegantoseekfreshexpedients.
"Well,stay!ShallIaddresstothemidwivesarequestaccompaniedbythedeclarationthatthegirliswithchild!"
Thismadethepriest'sholloweyeflash.
"Withchild!knave!doyouknowanythingofthis?"
Gringoirewasalarmedbyhisair.Hehastenedtosay,"Oh,no,notI!Ourmarriagewasareal~forismaritagium~.Istayedoutside.Butonemightobtainarespite,allthesame."
"Madness!Infamy!Holdyourtongue!"
"Youdowrongtogetangry,"mutteredGringoire."Oneobtainsarespite;thatdoesnoharmtoanyone,andallowsthemidwives,whoarepoorwomen,toearnfortydeniersparisis."
Thepriestwasnotlisteningtohim!
"Butshemustleavethatplace,nevertheless!"
hemurmured,"thedecreeistobeexecutedwithinthreedays.
Moreover,therewillbenodecree;thatQuasimodo!Womenhaveverydepravedtastes!"
Heraisedhisvoice:"MasterPierre,Ihavereflectedwell;thereisbutonemeansofsafetyforher."
"What?Iseenonemyself."
"Listen,MasterPierre,rememberthatyouoweyourlifetoher.Iwilltellyoumyideafrankly.
Thechurchiswatchednightandday;onlythoseareallowedtocomeout,whohavebeenseentoenter.Henceyoucanenter.Youwillcome.Iwillleadyoutoher.Youwillchangeclotheswithher.
Shewilltakeyourdoublet;youwilltakeherpetticoat."
"Sofar,itgoeswell,"remarkedthephilosopher,"andthen?"
"Andthen?shewillgoforthinyourgarments;youwillremainwithhers.Youwillbehanged,perhaps,butshewillbesaved."
Gringoirescratchedhisear,withaveryseriousair."Stay!"saidhe,"thatisanideawhichwouldneverhaveoccurredtomeunaided."
AtDomClaude'sproposition,theopenandbenignfaceofthepoethadabruptlycloudedover,likeasmilingItalianlandscape,whenanunluckysquallcomesupanddashesacloudacrossthesun.
"Well!Gringoire,whatsayyoutothemeans?"
"Isay,master,thatIshallnotbehanged,perchance,butthatIshallbehangedindubitably.
"Thatconcernsusnot."
"Thedeuce!"saidGringoire.
"Shehassavedyourlife.'Tisadebtthatyouaredischarging."
"ThereareagreatmanyotherswhichIdonotdischarge."
"MasterPierre,itisabsolutelynecessary."
Thearchdeaconspokeimperiously."
"Listen,DomClaude,"repliedthepoetinutterconsternation.Youclingtothatidea,andyouarewrong.IdonotseewhyIshouldgetmyselfhangedinsomeoneelse'splace."
"Whathaveyou,then,whichattachesyousostronglytolife?"
"Oh!athousandreasons!"
"Whatreasons,ifyouplease?"
"What?Theair,thesky,themorning,theevening,themoonlight,mygoodfriendsthethieves,ourjeerswiththeoldhagsofgo–betweens,thefinearchitectureofParistostudy,threegreatbookstomake,oneofthembeingagainstthebishopsandhismills;andhowcanItellall?
Anaxagorassaidthathewasintheworldtoadmirethesun.
Andthen,frommorningtillnight,Ihavethehappinessofpassingallmydayswithamanofgenius,whoismyself,whichisveryagreeable."
"Aheadfitforamulebell!"mutteredthearchdeacon."Oh!
tellmewhopreservedforyouthatlifewhichyourendersocharmingtoyourself?
Towhomdoyouoweitthatyoubreathethatair,beholdthatsky,andcanstillamuseyourlark'smindwithyourwhimsicalnonsenseandmadness?
Wherewouldyoube,haditnotbeenforher?
Doyouthendesirethatshethroughwhomyouarealive,shoulddie?
thatsheshoulddie,thatbeautiful,sweet,adorablecreature,whoisnecessarytothelightoftheworldandmoredivinethanGod,whileyou,halfwise,andhalffool,avainsketchofsomething,asortofvegetable,whichthinksthatitwalks,andthinksthatitthinks,youwillcontinuetolivewiththelifewhichyouhavestolenfromher,asuselessasacandleinbroaddaylight?
Come,havealittlepity,Gringoire;begenerousinyourturn;itwasshewhosettheexample."
Thepriestwasvehement.Gringoirelistenedtohimatfirstwithanundecidedair,thenhebecametouched,andwoundupwithagrimacewhichmadehispallidfaceresemblethatofanew–borninfantwithanattackofthecolic.
"Youarepathetic!"saidhe,wipingawayatear."Well!Iwillthinkaboutit.That'saqueerideaofyours.
—Afterall,"hecontinuedafterapause,"whoknows?perhapstheywillnothangme.
Hewhobecomesbetrotheddoesnotalwaysmarry.
Whentheyfindmeinthatlittlelodgingsogrotesquelymuffledinpetticoatandcoif,perchancetheywillburstwithlaughter.Andthen,iftheydohangme,—well!thehalterisasgoodadeathasany.
'Tisadeathworthyofasagewhohaswaveredallhislife;adeathwhichisneitherfleshnorfish,likethemindofaveritablesceptic;adeathallstampedwithPyrrhonismandhesitation,whichholdsthemiddlestationbetwixtheavenandearth,whichleavesyouinsuspense.
'Tisaphilosopher'sdeath,andIwasdestinedthereto,perchance.
Itismagnificenttodieasonehaslived."
Thepriestinterruptedhim:"Isitagreed."
"Whatisdeath,afterall?"pursuedGringoirewithexaltation.
"Adisagreeablemoment,atoll–gate,thepassageoflittletonothingness.
SomeonehavingaskedCercidas,theMegalopolitan,ifhewerewillingtodie:'Whynot?'
hereplied;'foraftermydeathIshallseethosegreatmen,Pythagorasamongthephilosophers,Hecataeusamonghistorians,Homeramongpoets,Olympusamongmusicians.'"
Thearchdeacongavehimhishand:"Itissettled,then?Youwillcometo–morrow?"
ThisgesturerecalledGringoiretoreality.
"Ah!i'faithno!"hesaidinthetoneofamanjustwakingup."Behanged!'tistooabsurd.Iwillnot."
"Farewell,then!"andthearchdeaconaddedbetweenhisteeth:"I'llfindyouagain!"
"Idonotwantthatdevilofamantofindme,"thoughtGringoire;andheranafterDomClaude.
"Stay,monsieurthearchdeacon,noill–feelingbetweenoldfriends!
Youtakeaninterestinthatgirl,mywife,Imean,and'tiswell.
YouhavedevisedaschemetogetheroutofNotre–Dame,butyourwayisextremelydisagreeabletome,Gringoire.IfIhadonlyanotheronemyself!
Ibegtosaythataluminousinspirationhasjustoccurredtome.
IfIpossessedanexpedientforextricatingherfromadilemma,withoutcompromisingmyownnecktotheextentofasinglerunningknot,whatwouldyousaytoit?Willnotthatsufficeyou?
IsitabsolutelynecessarythatIshouldbehanged,inorderthatyoumaybecontent?"
Thepriesttoreoutthebuttonsofhiscassockwithimpatience:"Streamofwords!Whatisyourplan?"
"Yes,"resumedGringoire,talkingtohimselfandtouchinghisnosewithhisforefingerinsignofmeditation,—"that'sit!—Thethievesarebravefellows!—ThetribeofEgyptloveher!—Theywillriseatthefirstword!—Nothingeasier!—Asuddenstroke.
—Undercoverofthedisorder,theywilleasilycarryheroff!—Beginningto–morrowevening.Theywillasknothingbetter.
"Theplan!speak,"criedthearchdeaconshakinghim.
Gringoireturnedmajesticallytowardshim:"Leaveme!YouseethatIamcomposing."
Hemeditatedforafewmomentsmore,thenbegantoclaphishandsoverhisthought,crying:"Admirable!successissure!"
"Theplan!"repeatedClaudeinwrath.
Gringoirewasradiant.
"Come,thatImaytellyouthatverysoftly.'Tisatrulygallantcounter–plot,whichwillextricateusallfromthematter.Pardieu,itmustbeadmittedthatIamnofool."
Hebrokeoff.
"Oh,bytheway!isthelittlegoatwiththewench?"
"Yes.Thedeviltakeyou!"
"Theywouldhavehangeditalso,wouldtheynot?"
"Whatisthattome?"
"Yes,theywouldhavehangedit.Theyhangedasowlastmonth.Theheadsmanloveththat;heeatsthebeastafterwards.TakemyprettyDjali!Poorlittlelamb!"
"Malediction!"exclaimedDomClaude."Youaretheexecutioner.Whatmeansofsafetyhaveyoufound,knave?Mustyourideabeextractedwiththeforceps?"
"Veryfine,master,thisisit."
Gringoirebenthisheadtothearchdeacon'sheadandspoketohiminaverylowvoice,castinganuneasyglancethewhilefromoneendtotheotherofthestreet,thoughnoonewaspassing.
Whenhehadfinished,DomClaudetookhishandandsaidcoldly:"'Tiswell.Farewelluntilto–morrow."
"Untilto–morrow,"repeatedGringoire.And,whilethearchdeaconwasdisappearinginonedirection,hesetoffintheother,sayingtohimselfinalowvoice:"Here'sagrandaffair,MonsieurPierreGringoire.Nevermind!
'Tisnotwrittenthatbecauseoneisofsmallaccountoneshouldtakefrightatagreatenterprise.
Bitoucarriedagreatbullonhisshoulders;thewater–wagtails,thewarblers,andthebuntingstraversetheocean."
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