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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Of course," replied Gringoire, a good deal shocked by the question. "In that case, messire," she resumed, "would you have the courtesy to explain to me " "What they are about to say?" interrupted Gringoire. "Well, listen." "No," said Gisquette, "but what they have said so far." Gringoire started, like a man whose wound has been probed to the quick.
He bent to close the valise, and with a start abruptly concluded his song at the sight of a miniature with the portrait of a woman looking at him from the bottom of the bag. "Mort de ma vie! what a fool I am; what a forgetful vengeur, to be chanting Gringoire in the house of Doom and my quarry still to hunt!"
And, without reckoning our Pierre Gringoire, who may represent them in the fifteenth century if we succeed in bestowing upon him the distinction which he deserves, it certainly was their spirit which animated Father du Breul, when he wrote, in the sixteenth, these naively sublime words, worthy of all centuries: "I am a Parisian by nation, and a Parrhisian in language, for parrhisia in Greek signifies liberty of speech; of which I have made use even towards messeigneurs the cardinals, uncle and brother to Monsieur the Prince de Conty, always with respect to their greatness, and without offending any one of their suite, which is much to say."
She made her disdainful little grimace, drew up her head like a bird, then burst out laughing, and the tiny poniard disappeared as it had come, without Gringoire being able to see where the wasp concealed its sting. A moment later, there stood upon the table a loaf of rye bread, a slice of bacon, some wrinkled apples and a jug of beer. Gringoire began to eat eagerly.
At the same time, the white goat placed itself in front of her, and presented to Gringoire a hostile front, bristling with two pretty horns, gilded and very sharp. All this took place in the twinkling of an eye. * A small dessert apple, bright red on one side and greenish-white on the other. The dragon-fly had turned into a wasp, and asked nothing better than to sting.
Trouillefou made a sign, and the duke, the emperor, and the passed masters of pickpockets, and the isolated robbers, came and ranged themselves around him in a horseshoe, of which Gringoire, still roughly held by the body, formed the centre. It was a semicircle of rags, tatters, tinsel, pitchforks, axes, legs staggering with intoxication, huge, bare arms, faces sordid, dull, and stupid.
But there stood beside him a black figure veiled from head to foot, which struck her by its silence. "Oh!" continued Gringoire in a tone of reproach, "Djali recognized me before you!" The little goat had not, in fact, waited for Gringoire to announce his name.
They are few in number, but it is a choice audience, a lettered audience." An instant later, a symphony which had been intended to produce the greatest effect on the arrival of the Virgin, was lacking. Gringoire perceived that his music had been carried off by the procession of the Pope of the Fools. "Skip it," said he, stoically.
Who wants him?" Gringoire, no doubt, was not very appetizing in this miserable condition. The female vagabonds did not seem to be much affected by the proposition. The unhappy wretch heard them answer: "No! no! hang him; there'll be the more fun for us all!" Nevertheless, three emerged from the throng and came to smell of him. The first was a big wench, with a square face.
"I will also swear it by the head of my father, for the two things have more affinity between them. But, my reverend master, permit me a question in my turn." "Speak, sir." "What concern is it of yours?" The archdeacon's pale face became as crimson as the cheek of a young girl. He remained for a moment without answering; then, with visible embarrassment, "Listen, Master Pierre Gringoire.
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