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And above all the voices, that of Johannes de Molendino was audible, piercing the uproar like the fife's derisive serenade: "Commence instantly!" yelped the scholar. "Down with Jupiter and the Cardinal de Bourbon!" vociferated Robin Poussepain and the other clerks perched in the window.
"Upon my soul, so it's you, 'Joannes Frollo de Molendino!" cried one of them, to a sort of little, light-haired imp, with a well-favored and malign countenance, clinging to the acanthus leaves of a capital; "you are well named John of the Mill, for your two arms and your two legs have the air of four wings fluttering on the breeze. How long have you been here?"
The Petit-Pont traversed, the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve crossed, Jehan de Molendino found himself in front of Notre-Dame. Then indecision seized upon him once more, and he paced for several minutes round the statue of M. Legris, repeating to himself with anguish: "The sermon is sure, the crown is doubtful."
This semi-approbation sufficed for Gringoire, and, conducting his own affairs, he began to shout, confounding himself with the crowd as much as possible: "Begin the mystery again! begin again!" "The devil!" said Joannes de Molendino, "what are they jabbering down yonder, at the end of the hall?" They want to begin it all over again. That's not fair!" "No, no!" shouted all the scholars.
"Good day, Mister Elector!" "Good night, Madame Electress!" "How happy they are to see all that!" sighed Joannes de Molendino, still perched in the foliage of his capital. Meanwhile, the sworn bookseller of the university, Master Andry Musnier, was inclining his ear to the furrier of the king's robes, Master Gilles Lecornu. "I tell you, sir, that the end of the world has come.
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