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"Thunder, if I understand you!" said the outcast. "Do you know what o'clock it is?" "I do not know," replied Gringoire. Clopin approached the Duke of Egypt. "Comrade Mathias, the time we have chosen is not a good one. King Louis XI. is said to be in Paris." "Another reason for snatching our sister from his claws," replied the old Bohemian. "You speak like a man, Mathias," said the King of Thunes.
The Bohemians, said Gringoire, were vassals of the King of Algiers, in his quality of chief of the White Moors. One thing is certain, that la Esmeralda had come to France while still very young, by way of Hungary.
Gringoire had passed from the love of an idea to the love of the form of that idea. At this For-l'Eveque, there was a charming chapel of the fourteenth century, whose apse was on the street. Gringoire was devoutly examining its exterior sculptures.
And first of all, how comes it that you have not been seen for two months, and that now one finds you in the public squares, in a fine equipment in truth! Motley red and yellow, like a Caudebec apple?" "Messire," said Gringoire, piteously, "it is, in fact, an amazing accoutrement. You see me no more comfortable in it than a cat coiffed with a calabash.
At the same time, a great sound of applause was heard from without. "What's the meaning of this, of the Esmeralda?" said Gringoire, wringing his hands in despair. "Ah, good heavens! it seems to be the turn of the windows now." He returned towards the marble table, and saw that the representation had been interrupted.
I am sure books tell you all those things, because I see the students coming and going with them; and when I saw once the millions of books in the Rue du Musée, I asked the keeper what use they were for, and he said, 'To make men wise, my dear. But Gringoire Bac, the cobbler, who was with me, it was a fête day, Bac, he said, 'Do not you believe that, Bébée; they only muddle folks' brains; for one book tells them one thing, and another book another, and so on, till they are dazed with all the contrary lying; and if you see a bookish man, be sure you see a very poor creature who could not hoe a patch, or kill a pig, or stitch an upper-leather, were it ever so. But I do not believe that Bac said right.
What harm does it do if a poor girl takes shelter under the flying buttresses of Notre-Dame, beside the swallows' nests?" "There are satans in this world," remarked the archdeacon. "'Tis devilish badly done," observed Gringoire. The archdeacon resumed after a silence, "So, she saved your life?" "Among my good friends the outcasts. A little more or a little less and I should have been hanged.
"Master Denis le Mercier, guardian of the house of the blind at Paris!" etc., etc., etc. This was becoming unbearable. This strange accompaniment, which rendered it difficult to follow the piece, made Gringoire all the more indignant because he could not conceal from himself the fact that the interest was continually increasing, and that all his work required was a chance of being heard.
He approached him and addressed him, shaking his arm slightly; for the good man was leaning on the balustrade and dozing a little. "Monsieur," said Gringoire, "I thank you!" "Monsieur," replied the big man with a yawn, "for what?" "I see what wearies you," resumed the poet; "'tis all this noise which prevents your hearing comfortably. But be at ease! your name shall descend to posterity!
Gringoire firmly believed that he had been in a dream ever since morning, and that this was the continuation of it. The change was, in fact, violent, though a gratifying one. They undid the noose, and made the poet step down from the stool. His emotion was so lively that he was obliged to sit down. The Duke of Egypt brought an earthenware crock, without uttering a word.
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