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A vagabond presented his banner to Clopin, who planted it solemnly between two paving-stones. It was a pitchfork from whose points hung a bleeding quarter of carrion meat. That done, the King of Thunes turned round and cast his eyes over his army, a fierce multitude whose glances flashed almost equally with their pikes. After a momentary pause, "Forward, my Sons!" he cried; "to work, locksmiths!"
But the impulse had been given, the King of Thunes had set the example. Evidently, the bishop was defending himself, and they only battered the door with the more rage, in spite of the stones which cracked skulls right and left. It was remarkable that all these stones fell one by one; but they followed each other closely.
Still, from time to time, and in consequence of this very movement, the ancient slang crops up again and becomes new once more. It has its headquarters where it maintains its sway. The Temple preserved the slang of the seventeenth century; Bicetre, when it was a prison, preserved the slang of Thunes. There one could hear the termination in anche of the old Thuneurs.
Antam ante annum is a word of Thunes slang, which signified the past year, and by extension, formerly. Thirty-five years ago, at the epoch of the departure of the great chain-gang, there could be read in one of the cells at Bicetre, this maxim engraved with a nail on the wall by a king of Thunes condemned to the galleys: Les dabs d'antan trimaient siempre pour la pierre du Coesre.
"Now," went on the King of Thunes, "twist your right foot round your left leg, and rise on the tip of your left foot." "Monseigneur," said Gringoire, "so you absolutely insist on my breaking some one of my limbs?" Clopin tossed his head. "Hark ye, my friend, you talk too much.
"To you, Louis de Beaumont, bishop of Paris, counsellor in the Court of Parliament, I, Clopin Trouillefou, king of Thunes, grand Coesre, prince of Argot, bishop of fools, I say: Our sister, falsely condemned for magic, hath taken refuge in your church, you owe her asylum and safety.
"Do you consent," resumed Clopin, "to enroll yourself among the people of the knife?" "Of the knife, precisely," responded Gringoire. "You recognize yourself as a member of the free bourgeoisie?"* added the King of Thunes. * A high-toned sharper. "Of the free bourgeoisie." "Subject of the Kingdom of Argot?" "Of the Kingdom of Argot*." * Thieves. "A vagabond?" "A vagabond." "In your soul?"
"Bellevigne de l'Etoile," said the King of Thunes to an enormous vagabond, who stepped out from the ranks, "climb upon the cross beam." Bellevigne de l'Etoile nimbly mounted the transverse beam, and in another minute, Gringoire, on raising his eyes, beheld him, with terror, seated upon the beam above his head.
Clopin interrupted him: "I believe that you are trying to blarney us with your jargon. Zounds! let yourself be hung, and don't kick up such a row over it!" "Pardon me, monseigneur, the King of Thunes," replied Gringoire, disputing the ground foot by foot. "It is worth trouble One moment! Listen to me You are not going to condemn me without having heard me"
I am a vagabond, a thief, a sharper, a man of the knife, anything you please; and I am all that already, monsieur, King of Thunes, for I am a philosopher; et omnia in philosophia, omnes in philosopho continentur, all things are contained in philosophy, all men in the philosopher, as you know." The King of Thunes scowled. "What do you take me for, my friend?
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