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"Djali," she continued, "what month is this?" The goat lifted its fore foot, and struck one blow upon the tambourine. It was the first month in the year, in fact. "Djali," pursued the young girl, turning her tambourine round, "what day of the month is this?" Djali raised his little gilt hoof, and struck six blows on the tambourine.
Gringoire's first care on entering the boat was to place the goat on his knees. He took a position in the stern; and the young girl, whom the stranger inspired with an indefinable uneasiness, seated herself close to the poet. When our philosopher felt the boat sway, he clapped his hands and kissed Djali between the horns. "Oh!" said he, "now we are safe, all four of us."
The headsman loveth that; he eats the beast afterwards. Take my pretty Djali! Poor little lamb!" "Malediction!" exclaimed Dom Claude. "You are the executioner. What means of safety have you found, knave? Must your idea be extracted with the forceps?" "Very fine, master, this is it."
When the young girl stopped at last, breathless, the people applauded eagerly. "Djali," said the gypsy, "it's your turn now." And a pretty little white goat got up from a corner of the carpet. "Djali, what month in the year is this?" The goat raised his forefoot and struck once upon the tambourine held out to him. The crowd applauded. "Djali, what day of the month is it?"
She passed her days in caressing Djali, in watching the door of the Gondelaurier house, in talking to herself about Phoebus, and in crumbling up her bread for the swallows. She had entirely ceased to see or hear Quasimodo. The poor bellringer seemed to have disappeared from the church.
Esmeralda began to crumble some bread, which Djali ate gracefully from the hollow of her hand. Moreover, Gringoire did not give her time to resume her revery. He hazarded a delicate question. "So you don't want me for your husband?" The young girl looked at him intently, and said, "No." "For your lover?" went on Gringoire. She pouted, and replied, "No." "For your friend?" pursued Gringoire.
A fear took hold of her; she called Djali, and hurriedly returned to Tostes by the high road, threw herself into an armchair, and for the rest of the evening did not speak. But towards the end of September something extraordinary fell upon her life; she was invited by the Marquis d'Andervilliers to Vaubyessard.
A fear took hold of her; she called Djali, and hurriedly returned to Tostes by the highroad, threw herself into an armchair, and for the rest of the evening did not speak. But towards the end of September something extraordinary fell upon her life; she was invited by the Marquis d'Andervilliers to Vaubyessard.
He was thinking that the goat also, "according to existing law," would be hung if recaptured; which would be a great pity, poor Djali! that he had thus two condemned creatures attached to him; that his companion asked no better than to take charge of the gypsy.
It was far worse when the procurator of the king, having emptied upon a floor a certain bag filled with movable letters, which Djali wore round his neck, they beheld the goat extract with his hoof from the scattered alphabet the fatal name of Phoebus.
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