Classic Audiobook Collection - The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Starting point is 00:00:00 Book 1, Chapter 1 of The hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. Preface. A few years ago, while visiting, or rather rummaging about Notre Dame, the author of this book found, in an obscure nook of one of the towers, the following word, engraved by hand upon the wall. Anark These Greek capitals, black with age, and quite deeply graven in the same, and quite deeply graven in stone, with, I know not what signs peculiar to Gothic calligraphy, imprinted upon their forms and upon their attitudes, as though with the purpose of revealing that it had been a hand of the Middle Ages which had inscribed them there, and especially the fatal and melancholy meaning

Starting point is 00:00:48 contained in them struck the author deeply. He questioned himself. He sought to divine who could have been that soul in torment which had not been willing to quit this world. without leaving this stigma of crime or unhappiness upon the brow of the ancient church. Afterwards, the wall was whitewashed or scraped down, I know not which, and the inscription disappeared. For it is thus that people have been in the habit of proceeding with the marvelous churches of the Middle Ages for the last two hundred years. Mutilations come to them from every quarter, from within, as well as from without. The priest whitewashes them, the archdeacon scrapes them down, then the populace arrives and demolishes them. Thus, with the exception of the fragile memory which the author of this book here consecrates to it,

Starting point is 00:01:43 there remains today nothing whatever of the mysterious word engraved within the gloomy tower of Notre Dame, nothing of the destiny which it so sadly summed up. The man who wrote that word upon the wall disappeared from the middle of the middle of the world. of the generations of man many centuries ago. The word, in its turn, has been effaced from the wall of the church. The church will, perhaps, itself soon disappear from the face of the earth. It is upon this word that this book is founded. March 1831. Book 1, Chapter 1. The Grand Hall 348 years, six months, and 19 days ago today, the Parisians awoke to the sound of all the bells in the triple circuit of the city, the university, and the town ringing a full peal.

Starting point is 00:02:42 The 6th of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picard's, nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Loss, nor an entry of our much-dread lord Monsieur the King, nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves in the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the 15th century, of some plumed and bedizened embassy. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of that nature, that of the Flemish ambassadors, charged with concluding the marriage between the Dolphine

Starting point is 00:03:35 and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of Monsieur la Cardinal Le Bourbon, who, for the sake of pleasing the king, had been obliged to assume an amiable mean towards this whole rustic rabble of Flemish burgomasters, and to regale them at his Hotel de Bourbon with a very pretty morality, allegorical satire and farce, while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door. What put the whole population of Paris in commotion, as Jeanne de Troyes expresses it, on the 6th of January, was the double solemnity, united from time immemorial, of the Epiphany and the Feast of Fools. On that day there was to a bonfire at the Place de Greve, a maypole at the Chappelle de Brac, and a mystery at the Palais de Justice.

Starting point is 00:04:32 It had been cried, to the sound of the trumpet, the preceding evening at all the crossroads by the provost's men, clad in handsome, short, sleeveless coats of violet camelot, with large white crosses upon their breasts. So the crowd of citizens, male and female, having closed their houses and shops, thronged from every direction at early morn towards some one of the three spots designated. Each had made his choice. One the bonfire, another the Maypole, another the mystery play. It must be stated, in honor of the good sense of the loungers of Paris, that the greater part of this crowd directed their steps towards the bonfire, which was quite in season, or towards the mystery play, which was to be presented in the Grand Hall of the Palais de Justice,

Starting point is 00:05:23 the Courts of Law, which was well-roofed and walled, and that the Curious left the poor, scantily-flowered Maypole to shiver all alone beneath the sky of January in the cemetery of the Chapel of Brack. The populace thronged the avenues of the law courts in particular, because they knew that the Flemish ambassadors, who had arrived two days previously, in intended to be present at the representation of the mystery, and at the election of the Pope of Fools, which was also to take place in the Grand Hall. It was no easy matter on that day to force one's way into that Grand Hall, although it was then reputed to be the largest covered enclosure in the world. It is true that Soval had not yet measured the Grand Hall of the Chateau of Montargis.

Starting point is 00:06:14 The Palace-plas, encumbered with people, offered to the curious gazers at the windows the aspect of a sea, into which five or six streets, like so many mouths of rivers, discharged every moment fresh floods of heads. The waves of this crowd, augmented incessantly, dashed against the angles of the houses which projected here and there, like so many promontories, into the irregular basin of the place. In the center of the lofty Gothic façade of the palace, the grand staircase, incessantly ascended and descended by a double current, which, after parting on the intermediate landing place, flowed in broad waves along its lateral slopes, the grand staircase, I say, trickled incessantly into the place, like a cascade into a lake. The cries, the laughter,

Starting point is 00:07:08 the trampling of those thousands of feet produced a great norm. noise and a great clamor. From time to time, this noise and clamor redoubled. The current, which drove the crowd towards the grand staircase, flowed backwards, became troubled, formed whirlpools. This was produced by the Buffet of an archer, or the horse of one of the provost sergeants, which kicked to restore order. An admirable tradition which the provostship has bequeath to the Constabulary. The Constabulary to the Marra Chaucer, the Marra Chaucer to our Gendarmerie of Paris. Thousands of good, calm bourgeois faces thronged the windows, the doors, the dormer windows, the roofs, gazing at the palace, gazing at the populace, and asking nothing more. For many Parisians

Starting point is 00:08:02 content themselves with the spectacle of the spectators, and a wall behind which something is going on becomes at once, for us, a very curious thing indeed. If it could be granted to us, the men of 1830, to mingle in thought with those Parisians of the 15th century, and to enter with them, jostled, elbowed, pulled about, into that immense hall of the palace, which was so cramped on that 6th of January 1482, the spectacle would not be devoid of either interest or charm, and we should have about us only things that were so old that they would seem new. With the reader's consent, we will endeavor to retrace in thought the impression which he would have experienced in company with us on crossing the threshold of that grand hall,

Starting point is 00:08:55 in the midst of that tumultuous crowd in surcoats, short sleeveless jackets, and doublets. And first of all, there is a buzzing in the ears, a dazzlinger, in the eyes. Above our heads is a double Ojai vault, paneled with wood carving, painted azure, and sewn with golden fleur-de-le. Beneath our feet, a pavement of black and white marble, alternating. A few paces distant, an enormous pillar, then another, then another, seven pillars in all, down the length of the hall, sustaining the spring of the arches of the double vault in the center of its width. Around the round. Four of the pillars, stalls of merchants, all sparkling with glass and tinsel.

Starting point is 00:09:43 Around the last three, benches of oak, worn and polished by the trunk hose of the litigants, and the robes of the attorneys. Around the hall, along the lofty wall, between the doors, between the windows, between the pillars, the interminable row of all the kings of France, from Fairmont down, the lazy kings, with pedant arms and downcast eyes, the valiant and combative kings, with heads and arms raised boldly heavenward. Then, in the long pointed windows,

Starting point is 00:10:17 glass of a thousand hues. At the wide entrances to the hall, rich doors, finely sculptured. And all, the vaults, pillars, walls, jams, panelling door statues, covered from top to bottom with a splendid blue and gold illumination. which, a trifle tarnished at the epic when we behold it, had almost entirely disappeared beneath

Starting point is 00:10:41 dust and spiders in the year of grace 1549, when De Brule still admired it from tradition. Let the reader picture to himself now, this immense oblong hall, illuminated by the pallid light of a January day, invaded by a motley and noisy throng which drifts along the walls, and eddies round the seven pillars, and he will have a confused idea of the hold effect of the picture, whose curious details we shall make an effort to indicate with more precision. It is certain that if Ravayak had not assassinated Henri IV, there would have been no documents in the trial of Ravajak deposited in the clerk's office of the Palaire de Justice.

Starting point is 00:11:29 No accomplices interested in causing the said documents to disappear. Hence, no incendiary is obliged, for the lack of better means, to burn the Clark's office in order to burn the documents, and to burn the Palais de Justice in order to burn the Clark's office. Consequently, in short, no conflagration in 1618. The old Palais would be standing still, with its ancient Grand Hall. I should be able to say to the reader, go and look at it, and we should thus both escape. the necessity, I of making, and he of reading, a description of it, such as it is, which demonstrates a new truth, that great events have incalculable results.

Starting point is 00:12:16 It is true that it may be quite possible in the first place that Ravayak had no accomplices, and in the second that if he had any, they were in no way connected with the fire of 1618. Two other very plausible explanations exist. First, the great flaming star, a foot broad, and a cubit high, which fell from heaven, as everyone knows, upon the law courts, after midnight on the 7th of March. Second, Teofio's quatrain. Sure t'was but a sorry game, when at Paris dame justice, through having eaten too much spice, set the palace all aflame.

Starting point is 00:13:00 Whatever may be thought of this triple explanation, political, physical, and poetical, of the burning of the law courts in 1618, the unfortunate fact of the fire is certain. Very little today remains, thanks to this catastrophe. Thanks, above all, to the successive restorations which have completed what it spared, very little remains of that first dwelling of the kings of France, of that elder palace of the Louvre. already so old in the time of Philip the handsome that they sought there for the traces of the magnificent buildings erected by King Robert and described by Helgaldus. Nearly everything has disappeared.

Starting point is 00:13:44 What has become of the chamber of the chancelry, where San Luis consummated his marriage? The garden where he administered justice, clad in a coat of Camelot, a surcoat of Lindsay Woolsey without sleeves, and a surmantle of black sand. as he lay upon the carpet with Jean V. Where is the chamber of the Emperor Sigismond, and that of Chara the Fourth, that of Jean the Landless? Where is the staircase,

Starting point is 00:14:13 from which Charros the sixth promulgated his edict of pardon? The slab where Marcel cut the throats of Robert de Clermont and the Marshal of Champagne in the presence of the dauphin. The wicket where the bulls of Pope Benedict were torn. and whence those who had brought them departed decked out in derision in copes and mitres, and making an apology through all Paris, and the Grand Hall, with its gilding, its azure, its statues, its pointed arches, its pillars, its immense vaults, all fretted with carvings. And the gilded chamber, and the stone lion, which stood at the door, with lowered head

Starting point is 00:14:56 and tailed between his legs, like the lions on the throne of Sopheins. Solomon in the humiliated attitude which befits force in the presence of justice, and the beautiful doors, and the stained glass, and the chaste ironwork which drove Biscornet to despair, and the delicate woodwork of Anci. What has time, what have men done with these marvels? What have they given us in return for all this Gallic history, for all this Gothic art? The heavy, flattened arches of Monsieur de Brosse, that awkward architect of the Saint-Gervais portal.

Starting point is 00:15:35 So much for art. And, as for history, we have the gossiping reminiscences of the great pillar, still ringing with the tattle of the patru. It is not much. Let us return to the veritable grand hall of the veritable old palace. The two extremities of this gigantic, paralellogram were occupied, the one by the famous marble table, so long, so broad and so thick, that, as the ancient land rolls, in a style that would have given gargantua an appetite,

Starting point is 00:16:11 say, such a slice of marble as was never beheld in the world. The other, by the chapel, where Louis XI. 11th had himself sculptured on his knees before the Virgin, and whither he caused to be brought, without heeding the two gaps thus made in the row of royal statues, the statues of Charlemagne and of San Luis, two saints whom he supposed to be great in favor in heaven, as kings of France. This chapel, quite new, having been built only six years, was entirely in that charming taste of delicate architecture, of marvelous sculpture, of fine and deep chasing, which marks with us the end of the Gothic era, and which is perpetuated to about the middle of the 16th century in the fairy-like fancies of the Renaissance.

Starting point is 00:17:02 The little open-work rose window, pierced above the portal, was, in particular, a masterpiece of lightness and grace. One would have pronounced it a star of lace. In the middle of the hall, opposite the great door, a platform of gold brocade placed against the wall, a special entrance to which had been affected through a window in the corner. corridor of the gold chamber, had been erected for the Flemish emissaries and the other great personages invited to the presentation of the mystery play. It was upon the marble table that the mystery was to be enacted as usual. It had been arranged for the purpose, early in the morning. Its rich slabs of marble, all scratched by the heels of law clerks, supported a cage of

Starting point is 00:17:50 carpenters' work of considerable height, the upper surface of which, within view of the whole hall, was to serve as the theater, and whose interior, masked by tapestries, was to take the place of dressing-rooms for the personages of the piece. A ladder, naively placed on the outside, was to serve as means of communication between the dressing-room and the stage, and lend its rude rungs to entrances as well as to exits. There was no personage, however unexpected, no sudden change, no theatrical effect which was not obliged to mount that ladder. Innocent and venerable infancy of art and contrivances. Four of the bailiff of the palace's sergeants,

Starting point is 00:18:37 perfunctory guardians of all the pleasures of the people, on days of festival, as well as on days of execution, stood at the four corners of the marble table. The piece was only to begin with the twelfth stroke of the great palace clock sounding midday. It was very late, no doubt, for a theatrical representation, but they had been obliged to fix the hour to suit the convenience of the ambassadors. Now, this whole multitude had been waiting since morning. A goodly number of curious, good people had been shivering since daybreak before the grand staircase of the palace. Some even affirmed that they had passed the night

Starting point is 00:19:19 across the threshold of the great door, in order to make sure that they should be the first to pass in. The crowd grew more dense every moment, and, like water, which rises above its normal level, began to mount along the walls, to swell around the pillars, to spread out on the entablatures, on the cornices, on the window-sills, on all the salient points of the architecture, on all the reliefs of the sculpture. Hence, discomfort, impatience, weariness, the liberty of a day of cynicism and folly, the quarrels which break forth for all sorts of causes, a pointed elbow, an iron-shod shoe, the fatigue of long waiting, had already, long before the hour appointed for the arrival of the ambassadors imparted a harsh and bitter accent to the clamor of these people who are shut in,

Starting point is 00:20:10 fitted into each other, pressed, trampled upon, stifled. Nothing was to be heard but imprecations on the Flemish, the provost of the merchants, the Cardinal de Bourbon, the bailiff of the courts, Madame Marguerite of Austria, the sergeants with their rods, the cold, the heat, the bad weather, the Bishop of Paris, the Pope of the fools, the pillars, the statues, that closed door, that open window. all to the vast amusement of a band of scholars and lackeys scattered through the mass,

Starting point is 00:20:44 who mingled with all this discontent their teasing remarks, and their malicious suggestions, and pricked the general bad temper with a pin, so to speak. Among the rest there was a group of these merry imps, who, after smashing the glass in a window, had seated themselves heartily on the entablature, and from that point dispatched their gaze, and their railleries, both within and without, upon the throng in the hall, and the throng

Starting point is 00:21:14 upon the place. It was easy to see, from their parodied gestures, their ringing laughter, the bantering appeals which they exchanged with their comrades, from one end of the hall to the other, that these young clerks did not share the weariness and fatigue of the rest of the spectators, and that they understood very well the art of extracting, for their own private diversion, from that which they had under their eyes, a spectacle which made them await the other with patience. "'Upon my soul! So it's you, Joanne's Frollo Domolandino!' cried one of them

Starting point is 00:21:51 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? By the mercy of the devil, retorted Joanne Frollo, these four hours and more, and I hope they will be reckoned to my credit in purgatory.

Starting point is 00:22:22 I heard the eight singers of the King of Sicily intoned the first verse of seven o'clock Mass in the Saint-Chapelle. Fine singers, replied the other, with voices even more pointed than their caps, Before founding a mass for Monsieur Saint-Jean, the king should have inquired whether Monsieur Saint-Jean likes Latin droned out in a Provensal accent. He did it for the sake of employing those accursed singers of the King of Sicily, cried an old woman sharply from among the crowd beneath the window.

Starting point is 00:22:56 I just put it to you. A thousand livres perisi for a mass! And out of the tax on sea-fish in the markets of Paris to boot! "'Piece, old crone,' said a tall, grave person, stopping up his nose on the side towards the fishwife. "'A mass had to be founded. Would you wish the king to fall ill again?' "'Bravely spoken, Sir Gilles Lecourneau, master furrier of king's robes,' cried the little

Starting point is 00:23:25 student, clinging to the capital. A shout of laughter from all the students greeted the unlucky name of the poor furrier of the king's robes. "'Lecarnu! Gillesque Lecornau!' said some. "'Cornutus et Hurtus!' Horned and hairy,' another went on. "'He, of course,' continued the small imp on the capital. "'What are they laughing at? An honorable man is Gilles Le Cornu, brother of Master Jeanne Le Corneau, provost of the king's house,

Starting point is 00:24:00 son of Master Mahier Le Cornu, first porter of the Bois de Vincennes. all bourgeois of Paris, all married from father to son. The gaiety redoubled. The big furrier, without uttering a word in reply, tried to escape all the eyes riveted upon him from all sides. But he perspired and panted in vain. Like a wedge entering the wood, his effort served only to bury still more deeply in the shoulders of his neighbors, his large, apoplectic face, purple.

Starting point is 00:24:35 with spite and rage. At length one of these, as fat, short and venerable as himself, came to his rescue. Abomination! Scholars addressing a bourgeois in that fashion in my day would have been flogged with a faggot which would have afterwards been used to burn them. The whole band burst into laughter. "'Ola'é, who is scolding so? Who is that screech-owl of evil fortune?' "'Hold, I know him,' said one of them. "'Tis Master André Mune. "'Because he is one of the four sworn booksellers of the university,' said the other. "'Everything goes by fours in that shop,' cried a third. "'The four nations, the four faculties, the four feasts, the four procurators, the four electors,

Starting point is 00:25:29 the four booksellers.' "'Well,' began Jean Frollo, once more. We must play the devil with them. Mounier, we'll burn your books. Marnier, we'll beat your lackeys. Mouinie, we'll kiss you a wife. That fine Mademoiselle who dodd, who is as fresh and as gay though she were a widow. Devil'll take you, growled Master André Munei. Master André, Pursue Jean-Jahann, still clinging to his capital, hold your tongue, or I'll drop on your head."

Starting point is 00:26:06 Master Andrey raised his eyes, seemed to measure in an instant the height of the pillar, the weight of the scamp, mentally multiplied that weight by the square of the velocity, and remained silent. Jehan, master of the field of battle, pursued triumphantly. That's what I'll do, even if I am the brother of an archdeacon. Fine gentry are our people of the university, not a very good one. have caused our privileges to be respected on such a day as this. However, there is a maypole and a bonfire in the town, a mystery, Pope of the fools, and Flemish ambassadors in the city,

Starting point is 00:26:47 and at the university, nothing. Nevertheless, the plasmal bear is sufficiently large, interposed one of the clerks established on the window-sill. Down with the rector, the electors, and the procurators! cried Johan's. "'We must have a bonfire this evening in the Sham Gaiard,' went on the other, made of Master André's books. "'And the desks of the scribes,' added his neighbor. "'And the Beatles' wands, and the spatoons of the deans,

Starting point is 00:27:23 and the cupboards of the procurators, and the hudges of the electors, and the stools of the rector, down with them, put in little Jehan as counterpoint. Down with Master Andri, the Beatles and the scribes, the the theologians, the doctors, and the decretists, the procurators, the electors, and the rector. The end of the world has come, muttered Master André, stopping up his ears. By the way, there's the rector. See, he is passing through the plas, cried one of those in the window. Each rivaled his neighbor in his haste to turn towards the

Starting point is 00:28:01 Plus. "'Is it really our venerable rector, Master Thibault?' demanded Jahan Frollo Dumalan, who, as he was clinging to one of the inner pillars, could not see what was going on outside. "'Yes, yes,' replied all the others. "'It is really he, Master Thibault, the rector!' It was, in fact, the rector and all the dignitaries of the university who were marching in procession in front of the embassy, and at that moment traversing the place. The students crowded into the window, saluted them as they passed with sarcasm and ironical applause. The rector, who was walking at the head of his company, had to support the first broadside.

Starting point is 00:28:44 It was severe. Good day, monsieur le rector, ole good day there! How does he manage to be here, the old gambler, has he abandoned his dice? How he trots along on his mule, hurst. ears are not so long as his. "'Ola'e! Good day, Monsieur le rector Tibault. Tibald Eliotr, old fool, old gambler. God preserve you! Did you throw double-six often last night? Oh, what a decrepit face, livid and haggard and drawn with the love of gambling and of dice.

Starting point is 00:29:25 Where are you bound for in that fashion, Tibol? Tibaldi adados, with a your back turned to the university and trotting towards the town?" "'He is on his way, no doubt, to seek a lodging in the Rue Tibo O'Day,' cried Jeanne de Monsieu-Moulin." The entire band repeated this quip in a voice of thunder, clapping their hands furiously. "'You are going to seek a lodging in the Rue Tibo O'Day, are you not, Monseigneur, gamester on the side of the devil.' Then came the turns of the other dignitaries.

Starting point is 00:30:03 Down with the beetles! Down with the mace-bearers! Tell me, Robain-Puis-Pan. Who is that yonder? He is your bear desui, Girbertus do Soliaco, the Chancellor of the College of Outtune. Hold on, here's my shoe.

Starting point is 00:30:21 You are a better place than I. Fling it in his face. Saturnalitios mitemos Echinuces. Down with the six theologians, with their white surpluses! Are those the theologians? I thought they were the white geese given by Saint-Jean-Viev to the city for the fief of Rogni. Down with the doctors!

Starting point is 00:30:44 Down with the cardinal disputations and quibblers! My cap to you, Chancellor of Saint-Jean-Viev, you have done me a wrong. Tis true! He gave my place in the nation of Normandy to little Ascanio Faisalzabler. who comes from the province of Borgias, since he's an Italian. That is an injustice, said all the scholars, down with the Chancellor of San Jean-Viev. O'Eye, Master Joquim de la D'Ause, O'Ewee Louis-Dawie, O'Ele-Lambert-Hotemar! May the devil stifle the procurator of the German nation, and the chaplains of the

Starting point is 00:31:26 chan-chapel with their grey amuses, com tunic. Greece's Grecies. Say you do Pellibus Greciis foratis. Olae, master of arts! All the beautiful black copes! All the fine red copes! They make a fine tail for the rector.

Starting point is 00:31:45 One would say that he was a doge of Venice on his way to his bridle with the sea. Say Jehan, here are the canons of San Jambiev. To the deuce with a whole set of cannons! "'Abe Clod showat, Dr. Clos Chowat. Are you in search of Marie La Gaffaard?' "'She is in the Rue de Glattigny. She is making the bed of the King of the De Boches. She is paying her four deniers, quatior deniaros.

Starting point is 00:32:18 "'Out unamboum-bombom!' "'Would you like to have her pay you in the face?' "'Comards. Mr. Simons Saint-Guin, the elector of Picardee, with his wife on the cropper. Post-equitem Sechlet atra-yura, behind the horseman sits black care. Courage, Master Simone. Good day, Mr. Elector. Good night, Madame Electress.

Starting point is 00:32:44 How happy they are to see all that, sighed Joanne de Melendino, still perched in the foliage of his capital. Meanwhile, the sworn bookseller of the university, Master Andri Munier, was inclining his ear to the furrier of the king's robes, Master Gilles Le Corneux. I tell you, sir, that the end of the world has come. No one has ever beheld such outbreaks among the students. It is the accursed inventions of this century that are ruining everything. Artilleries, bombards, and above all, printing!

Starting point is 00:33:19 That other German pest! No more manuscripts, no more books. Printing will kill book-selling. It is the end of the world. that is drawing nigh. I see that plainly, from the progress of velvet stuffs, said the fur merchant.

Starting point is 00:33:36 At this moment, midday sounded. Ha! explained the entire crowd in one voice. The scholars held their peace. Then a great hurly-burly ensued, a vast movement of feet, hands and heads, a general outbreak of coughs and handkerchiefs.

Starting point is 00:33:56 Each one arranged himself assuming his post, raised himself up and grouped himself. Then came a great silence. All necks remained outstretched, all mouths remained open. All glances were directed towards the marble table. Nothing made its appearance there. The bailiff's four sergeants were still there, stiff, motionless, as painted statues. All eyes turned to the Estrade reserved for the Flemish envoys. The door remained closed, the platform empty. This crowd had been waiting since daybreak for three things. Noonday, the Embassy from Flanders, the mystery play.

Starting point is 00:34:36 Noonday alone had arrived on time. On this occasion, it was too much. They waited one, two, three, five minutes, a quarter of an hour. Nothing came. The deus remained empty, the theater dumb. In the meantime, wrath had succeeded to impatience. Irritated words circulated in a low tone, still it is true. The mystery! The mystery! they murmured in hollow voices.

Starting point is 00:35:06 Heads began to ferment. A tempest, which was only rumbling in the distance as yet, was floating on the surface of this crowd. It was Shahand Dumilin who struck the first spark from it. "'The mystery! And to the devil with the Flemings!' he exclaimed at the full force of his lungs, "'twining like a serpent around his pillar. "'The crowd clapped their hands. "'The mystery,' it repeated, "'and may all the devils take Flanders!'

Starting point is 00:35:35 "'We must have the mystery instantly,' resumed the student, "'or else my advice is that we should hang the bailiff of the courts "'by way of a morality and a comedy.' "'Well said,' cried the people, "'and let us begin the hanging with his sergeants.' A grand acclamation followed. The four poor fellows began to turn pale and to exchange glances. The crowd hurled itself towards them, and they already beheld the frail wooden railing, which separated them from it, giving way and bending before the pressure of the throng.

Starting point is 00:36:12 It was a critical moment. "'To the sack! To the sack!' rose the cry on all sides. At that moment the tapestry of the dressing-room, which we have described above, was raised. raised, and afforded passage to a personage, the mere sight of whom suddenly stopped the crowd, and changed its wrath into curiosity as by enchantment. Silence! Silence! The personage, but little reassured and trembling in every limb, advanced to the edge of the marble table with a vast amount of boughs, which, in proportion as he drew nearer,

Starting point is 00:36:49 more and more resembled genuflections. In the meanwhile, tranquility had gradually been restored. All that remained was that slight murmur which always rises above the silence of a crowd. "'Monsieur the bejo-gois,' said he, "'and Mademoiselle the bourgeoisers, "'we shall have the honour of declaiming and representing, "'before his eminence, Monsieur the Cardinal, "'a very beautiful morality which has for its title,

Starting point is 00:37:18 "'the good judgment of Madame the Virgin-March, Mary. I am to play Jupiter. His eminence is, at this moment, escorting the very honorable embassy of the Duke of Austria, which is detained at present, listening to the harangue of Monsieur the rector of the University at the Gate Baudet. As soon as his illustrious eminence, the Cardinal arrives, we will begin. It is certain that nothing less than the intervention of Jupiter was required to save the four unfortunate sergeants of the bailiff of the courts. If we had the happiness of having invented this very voracious tale, and of being, in consequence, responsible for it before our Lady criticism, it is not against us that the classic precept

Starting point is 00:38:06 necdeus interseat could be invoked. Moreover, the costume of Signor Jupiter was very handsome, and contributed not a little towards calming the crowd by attracting all its attention. Jupiter was clad in a coat of mail, covered with black velvet, with gilt nails. And, had it not been for the rouge and the huge red beard, each of which covered one half of his face, had it not been for the roll of gilded cardboard, spangled and all bristling with strips of tinsel, which he held in his hand, and in which the eyes of the initiated easily recognized thunderbolts, had not his feet been flesh-colored and banded with ribbons in Greek fashion, he might have borne comparison, so far as the severity of his main was concerned,

Starting point is 00:38:58 with a Breton archer from the guard of Monsieur de Béry. End of Chapter 1. Book 1st, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 2. Pierre Gringua Nevertheless, as he harangued them, the satisfaction and admiration unanimously excited by his costume were dissipated by his words. And when he reached that untoward conclusion, As soon as his illustrious eminence the Cardinal arrives, we will begin.

Starting point is 00:39:51 His voice was drowned in a thunder of hooting. "'Begin instantly! The mystery! The mystery immediately!' shrieked the people. And above all the voices, that of Joanne de Mollandino 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 Robins-Puis-Pan, and the other clerks perched in the window. "'The morality! This very instant!' repeated the crowd. "'This very instant! The sack and the rope for the comedians and the Cardinal!' Poor Jupiter, haggard, frightened, pale beneath his rouge, dropped his thunderbolt,

Starting point is 00:40:41 took his cap in his hand. Then he bowed and trembled and stammered. "'His eminence, the ambassadors, Madame Marguerite of Flanders—' He did not know what to say. In truth, he was afraid of being hung, hung by the populace for waiting, hung by the cardinal for not having waited. He saw between the two dilemmas only an abyss, that is to say, a gallows. Luckily, someone came to rescue him from his embarrassment and assumed the responsibility. An individual who was standing beyond the railing in the free space around the marble table and whom no one had yet caught sight of, since his long, thin body was completely sheltered from

Starting point is 00:41:27 every visual ray by the diameter of the pillar against which he was leaning, this individual, we say, tall, gaunt, pallid, blonde, still young, although already wrinkled about the brow and cheeks, with brilliant eyes and a smiling mouth, clad in garments of black serge, worn and shining with age, approached the marble table and made a sign to the poor sufferer. But the other was so confused that he did not see him. The newcomer advanced another step. "'Jupiter,' he said, "'my dear Jupiter!'

Starting point is 00:42:02 The other did not hear. At last the tall blonde, driven out of patience, shrieked almost in his face. "'Michens jebon!' "'Who calls me?' said Jupiter, as though awakened with a start. "'I,' replied the person clad in black. "'Ah,' said Jupiter,

Starting point is 00:42:23 "'begin at once,' went on the other. "'Satisfy the populace. "'I undertake to appease the bailiff, "'who will appease Monsieur the Cardinal.' Jupiter breathed once more. "'Messonieurs de bourgeois,' he cried, "'at the top of his lungs to the crowd which continued to hoot him. "'We are going to begin at once.'

Starting point is 00:42:46 "'Evoe, Jupiter!' "'Plaude de Kivés! All hail Jupiter! "'Applaud, citizens!' shouted the scholars. "'Noelle! Noel! Noelle! Good! Good!' shouted the people. The hand-clapping was deafening, and Jupiter had already withdrawn under his tapestry, while the hall still trembled with acclamations. In the meanwhile, the personage who had so magically turned the tempest into dead calm, as our old Indier Cornier puts it, had modestly retreated to the half-shadow of his pillar,

Starting point is 00:43:22 and would, no doubt, have remained invisible there, motionless and mute as before, had he not been plucked by the sleeve by two young women, who, standing in the front row of the spectators, had noticed his colloquy with Michel Giborne, Jupiter. "'Master!' said one of them, making him a sign to approach. "'Hold your tongue, my dear Leonard,' said her neighbor, pretty, fresh, and very brave, in consequence of being dressed up in her best attire. "'He is not a clerk. He is a layman. You must not say master to him, but messier.' "'Messier,' said Leonard.

Starting point is 00:44:03 The stranger approached the railing. "'What would you have of me, damsels?' he asked with alacrity. "'Oh, nothing,' replied Leonard. in great confusion. It is my neighbor, Gisquette L'Genciennes, who wishes to speak with you. Not so,

Starting point is 00:44:21 replied Gisket, blushing. It was Léinard who called you master. I only told her to say, monsieur. The two young girls dropped their eyes. The man, who asked nothing better than to enter into conversation, looked at them with a smile. So, you have nothing to say to me, damsels?

Starting point is 00:44:40 Oh, nothing at all, replied Gissel. Gisket. "'Nothing,' said Leonard. The tall, light-haired young man retreated a step, but the two curious maidens had no mind to let slip their prize. "'Monsieur,' said Gisket, with the impetuosity of an open sluice or of a woman who was made up her mind. "'Do you know that soldier who is to play the part of Madame the Virgin in the mystery?' "'You mean the part of Jupiter,' replied the stranger.

Starting point is 00:45:12 "'A, yes,' said Leonard. "'Isn't she stupid? "'So you know Jupiter?' "'Michel Jebonne,' replied the unknown. "'Yes, madame.' "'He has a fine beard,' said Leonard. "'Will what they are about to say here be fine?' inquired Gisket timidly.

Starting point is 00:45:34 "'Very fine, mademoiselle,' replied the unknown, "'without the slightest hesitation.' "'What is it to be to be? be, said Leonard. The good judgment of Madame the Virgin, a morality, if you please, damsel. Ah, that makes the difference, responded Leonard. A brief silence ensued, broken by the stranger. It is a perfectly new morality, and one which has never yet been played.

Starting point is 00:46:05 Then it is not the same one, said Giscette, that was given two years ago on the day of the entrance of Monsieur the Leggett and where three handsome maids played the parts. "'Of sirens,' said Leonard. "'And all naked,' added the young man. Leonard lowered her eyes modestly. Gisket glanced at her and did the same. He continued with a smile. "'It was a very pleasant thing to see.

Starting point is 00:46:34 Today it is a morality made expressly for Madame the Damoiselle of Flanders. "'Will they sing shepherd songs?' inquired Gisket. "'Fie!' said the stranger. "'In a morality, you must not confound styles. If it were a farce, well and good.' "'That is a pity,' resumed Gisket. That day, at the Ponsot fountain, there were wild men and women who fought and assumed many aspects as they sang Little Mote's and Bergerets.

Starting point is 00:47:09 "'That which is suitable for a legate,' returned the stranger, with a good deal of dryness, "'is not suitable for a princess.' "'And beside them,' resumed Leonard, played many brass instruments, making great melodies. "'And for the refreshment of the passers-by,' continued Gisket, "'the fountain spouted through three mouths, wine, milk, and hippocras, of which everyone drank who wished. And a little below the Ponceau at the Trinity, pursued Leonard. There was a passion performed, and without any speaking.

Starting point is 00:47:48 How well I remember that! exclaimed Gisket. God on the cross, and the two thieves on the right and left. Here the young gossips, growing warm at the memory of the entrance of Monsieur the Leggett, both began to talk at once. and further on at the Painter's Gate there were other personages very richly clad. And at the fountain of St. Innocent, that huntsman who was chasing a hind with a great clamor of dogs and hunting horns, and at the Paris slaughterhouses, stages representing the fortress of Dieppe.

Starting point is 00:48:25 And when the legate passed, you remember Gisket, they made the assault, and the English all had their throats cut. And against the gate of the shut-up. Lé, there were very fine personages. And on the Port-O-O-Change, which was all draped above. And when the leg had passed, they let fly on the bridge more than two hundred sorts of birds. Wasn't it beautiful, Leonard? It will be better today, finally resumed their interlocutor, who seemed to listen to them with impatience.

Starting point is 00:48:57 Do you promise us that this mystery will be fine, said Giscette? Without doubt, he replied. Then he added, with a certain emphasis, "'I am the author of it, damsels.' "'Truly?' said the young girls, quite taken aback. "'Truly,' replied the poet, bridling a little. "'That is, to say, there are two of us. Jehan Marchand, who has sought the planks and erected the framework

Starting point is 00:49:25 of the theatre and the woodwork, and I who have made the piece. My name is Pierre Gringwa. The author of the Sid could not have said Pierre Corneux with more pride. Our readers have been able to observe that a certain amount of time must have already elapsed, from the moment when Jupiter had retired beneath the tapestry, to the instant when the author of the new morality had thus abruptly revealed himself to the innocent admiration of Gisket and Leonard. Remarkable fact.

Starting point is 00:49:59 That whole crowd, so tumultuous but a few months, moments before, now waited amiably on the word of the comedian, which proves the eternal truth, still experienced every day in our theatres that the best means of making the public wait patiently is to assure them that one is about to begin instantly. However, scholar Joanne had not fallen asleep. "'Ola'et!' he shouted suddenly, in the midst of the peaceable waiting which had followed the tumult. "'Jupiter! Madame the Virgin! "'Bofoons of the devil! Are you jeering at us? The peace! The peace! Commence, or we will commence again!' That was all that was needed. The music of high and low instruments immediately became audible

Starting point is 00:50:47 from the interior of the stage. The tapestry was raised. Four personages, in motley attire and painted faces, emerged from it, climbed the steep ladder of the theatre, and arrived upon the upper platform, arranged themselves in a line before the public whom they saluted with profound reverences. Then the symphony ceased. The mystery was about to begin. The four personages, after having reaped a rich reward of applause for the reverences, began in the midst of profound silence a prologue, which we gladly spare the reader. Moreover, as happens in our own day, the public was more occupied with the costumes that the actors wore than with the roles that they were enacting, and in truth they were right. All four were dressed in party-colored robes of yellow and white,

Starting point is 00:51:42 which were distinguished from each other only by the nature of the stuff. The first was of gold and silver brocade, the second of silk, the third of wool, the fourth of linen. The first of these personages carried in his right hand a sword, the second two golden keys, the third a pair of scales, the fourth a spade. And, in order to aid sluggish minds, which would have not seen clearly through the transparency of these attributes, there was to be read in large black letters, on the hem of the robe of brocade, my name is nobility. On the hem of the silken robe, my name is clergy. On the hem of the woolen robe, my name is clergy. On the hem of the woolen robe, my name is merchandise. On the hem of the linen robe, my name is labor. The sex of the two

Starting point is 00:52:36 male characters was briefly indicated to every judicious spectator by their shorter robes, and by the cap which they wore on their heads, while the two female characters, less briefly clad, were covered with hoods. Much ill-will would also have been required, not to comprehend end, through the medium of the poetry of the prologue, that labor was wedded to merchandise, and clergy to nobility, and that the two happy couples possessed in common a magnificent golden dolphin, which they desired to adjudge to the fairest only. So they were roaming about the world, seeking and searching for this beauty, and, after having successfully rejected the Queen of Galconda, the Princess of Trebezond, the dog

Starting point is 00:53:26 of the Grand Khan of Tartary, etc., labor and clergy, nobility and merchandise, had come to rest upon the marble table of the Palais de Justice, and to utter, in the presence of the honest audience, as many sentences and maxims as could then be dispensed at the Faculty of Arts, at examinations, sophisms, determinances, figures, and acts, where the masters took their degrees. All this was, in fact, very fine. Nevertheless, in that throng, upon which the four allegories vied with each other in pouring out floods of metaphors, there was no ear more attentive, no heart that palpitated more, not an eye was more haggard, no neck more outstretched than the eye, the ear, the neck, and the heart of the author,

Starting point is 00:54:21 of the poet of that brave Pierre Gringua, who had not been able to resist a moment before, the joy of telling his name to two pretty girls. He had retreated a few paces from them, behind his pillar, and there he listened, looked, enjoyed. The amiable applause, which had greeted the beginning of his prologue was still echoing in his bosom, and he was completely absorbed in that species of ecstatic contemplation, with which an author beholds his ideas fall one by one from the mouth of the actor into the vast silence of the audience worthy pierre it pains us to say it but this first ecstasy was speedily disturbed hardly had gringwa raised this intoxicating cup of joy and triumph to his lips when a drop of bitterness was mingled with it a tattered mendicant who could not collect any coins, lost as he was in the midst of the crowd, and who had not probably

Starting point is 00:55:27 found sufficient indemnity in the pockets of his neighbors, had hit upon the idea of perching himself upon some conspicuous point, in order to attract looks and alms. He had, accordingly, hoisted himself during the first verses of the prologue, with the aid of the pillars of the reserve gallery, to the cornice which ran round the balustrade at its lower edge, and there he had seated himself, soliciting the attention and the pity of the multitude, with his rags and a hideous sore which covered his right arm. However, he uttered not a word. The silence which he preserved allowed the prologue to proceed without hindrance, and no perceptible disorder would have ensued if ill-luck had not willed that the scholar Joanne should catch sight from the heights of his

Starting point is 00:56:18 pillar, of the mendicant and his grimaces. A wild fit of laughter took possession of the young scamp, who, without caring that he was interrupting the spectacle, and disturbing the universal composure, shouted boldly, Look! See that sickly creature asking alms! Anyone who has thrown a stone into a frog pond, or fired a shot into a covey of birds, can form an idea of the effect produced. by these incongruous words in the midst of the general attention. It may gringwa shudder as though it had been an electric shock.

Starting point is 00:56:58 The prologue stopped short, and all heads turned tumultuously towards the beggar, who, far from being disconcerted by this, saw in this incident a good opportunity for reaping his harvest, who had begun to whine in a doleful way, half-closing his eyes the while, Charity, please! Well, upon my soul, resumed Joanne, it's Clopin-Trifoe. All away, my friend, did your sore bother you on the leg that you have transferred it to your arm? So saying, with the dexterity of a monkey, he flung a bit of silver into the grey felt hat which the beggar held in his ailing arm.

Starting point is 00:57:42 The mendicot received both the alms and the sarcasm without winsome. and continued in lamentable tones, Charity, please! This episode considerably distracted the attention of the audience, and a goodly number of the spectators, among them Robain-Pous-Pan, and all the clerks at their head, gaily applauded this eccentric duet, which the scholar, with his shrill voice,

Starting point is 00:58:11 and the mendicant had just improvised in the middle of the prologue. Gringua was hot. highly displeased. On recovering from his first stupefaction, he bestirred himself to shout to the four personages on the stage, "'Go on! What the devil! Go on!' Without even deigning to cast a glance of disdain upon the two interruptors. At that moment he felt someone pluck at the hem of his surtoe. He turned round, and not without ill-humor, and found considerable difficulty in smiling. But he was obliged to, do so nevertheless. It was the pretty arm of Giscette La Jancsienne, which, passing through the

Starting point is 00:58:53 railing, was soliciting his attention in this manner. Monsieur, said the young girl, are they going to continue? Of course, replied Gringua, a good deal shocked by the question. In that case, Monsieur, she resumed, would you have the courtesy to explain to me? What they are about to say? interrupted Gringua. "'Well, listen!' "'No,' said Gisket. "'But what they have said so far!'

Starting point is 00:59:24 Gringua started, like a man whose wound has been probed to the quick. "'A plague on the stupid and dull-witted little girl,' he muttered between his teeth. From that moment forth, Gisket was nothing to him. In the meantime the actors had obeyed his injunction, and the public, seeing that they were beginning to speak again, began once more to listen, not without having lost many beauties in the sort of soddered joint, which was formed between the two portions of the piece thus abruptly cut short. Gringwa commented on it bitterly to himself.

Starting point is 01:00:03 Nevertheless, tranquility was gradually restored. The scholar held his peace, the mendicant counted over some coins in his hat, and the piece resumed the upper hand. It was in fact a very fine work, and one which, as it seems to us, might be put to use today, by the aid of a little rearrangement. The exposition, rather long and rather empty, that is to say, according to the rules, was simple, and Gringwa, in the candid sanctuary of his own conscience, admired its clearness. As the reader may surmise, the four allegorical personages were somewhat weary with having traversed the three sections of the world without having found suitable opportunity for getting rid of their golden dolphin.

Starting point is 01:00:52 Thereupon a eulogy of the marvelous fish, with a thousand delicate allusions to the young betrothed of Margarita Flanders, then sadly cloistered in at Ambois, and without a suspicion that labor and clergy, nobility and merchandise had just made the circuit of the world in his behalf. The sad dauphin was then young, was handsome, was stout, and above all, magnificent origin of all royal virtues, he was the son of the Lion of France. I declare that this bold metaphor is admirable, and that the natural history of the theatre, on a day of allegory and royal marriage songs, is not in the least startled by a dolphin who is the son of a lion. It is precisely these rare, and penderic mixtures which prove the poet's enthusiasm. Nevertheless, in order to play the part of

Starting point is 01:01:48 critic also, the poet might have developed this beautiful idea in something less than two hundred lines. It is true that the mystery was to last from noon until four o'clock, in accordance with the orders of Monsieur de Provost, and that it was necessary to say something. Besides, the people listened patiently. All at once, in the very middle of a quarrel between Mademoiselle merchandise and Madame Nobility, at the moment when Monsieur Labour was giving utterance to this wonderful line, In forest, ne'er was seen a more triumphant beast. The door of the reserved gallery, which had hitherto remained so importunely closed,

Starting point is 01:02:32 opened still more inopportunely, and the ringing voice of the usher announced abruptly, His eminence, Monseigneur, the Cardinal de Bourbon. End of Chapter 2. Book 1st, Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 3. Monseigneur the Cardinal. Poor Gringwa! The din of all the great double petards of the same.

Starting point is 01:03:17 Jean, the discharge of twenty archibuses on supports, the detonation of that famous serpentine of the Tower of Billy, which, during the siege of Paris on Sunday the 26th of September 1465, killed seven Burgundians at one blow. The explosion of all the powder stored at the gate of the temple would have rent his ears less rudely at that solemn and dramatic moment than these few words, which fell from the lips of the usher. His eminence, Monseigneur, the Cardinal de Bourbon. It is not that Pierre Gringua either feared or disdained Monsieur the Cardinal. He had neither the weakness nor the audacity for that. A true eclectic, as it would be expressed nowadays, Gringua was one of those firm and lofty,

Starting point is 01:04:10 moderate and calm spirits, which always know how to bear themselves amid all circumstances. Starre in Dimidio Riram, and who are full of reason and of liberal philosophy, while still setting store by cardinals. A rare, precious, and never-interrupted race of philosophers to whom wisdom, like another Ariadne, seems to have given a clue of thread which they have been walking along unwinding since the beginning of the world, through the labyrinth of human affairs. One finds them in all ages, ever the same, that is to say, always according to all times. And without reckoning, our Pierre Gringua, who may represent them in the 15th century, if we succeed in bestowing upon him the distinction which he deserves, it certainly was their

Starting point is 01:05:04 spirit which animated Father de Brule, when he wrote in the 16th these naively sublime words worthy of all the centuries. I am a Parisian by nation and a Parisian in language, for Parisia, in Greek, signifies liberty of speech, of which I have made use even towards Monsignor's the Cardinals, uncle and brother to Monsieur the Prince de Conte, always with respect to their greatness, and without offending any one of their sweet, which is much to say. There was then neither hatred for the Cardinal nor disdain for his presence, in the disagreeable impression produced upon Pierre Gringua. Quite the contrary, our poet had too much good sense and to threadbare a coat not to attach

Starting point is 01:05:57 particular importance to having the numerous illusions in his prologue, and in particular The glorification of the Dolphan, son of the Lion of France, fall upon the most eminent ear. But it is not interest which predominates in the noble nature of poets. I suppose that the entity of the poet may be represented by the number ten. It is certain that a chemist on analyzing and pharmacopalizing it, as Rabelais says, would find it composed of one-part interest to nine parts of self-esteem. Now, at the moment when the door had opened to admit the Cardinal, the nine parts of self-esteem in Gringua, swollen and expanded by the breadth of popular admiration, were in a state

Starting point is 01:06:46 of prodigious augmentation, beneath which disappeared, as though stifled, that imperceptible molecule of which we have just remarked upon in the constitution of poets. A precious ingredient, by the way, a ballast of reality and humanity. without which they would not touch earth. Gringua enjoyed seeing, feeling, fingering, so to speak, an entire assembly. Of knaves it is true, but what matters that? Stupified, petrified, and as though asphyxiated in the presence of the incommensurable tirades which weld up every instant from all parts of his bridal song.

Starting point is 01:07:28 I affirm that he shared the general beatitude, and that quite the reverse of La Fontaine, who at the presentation of his comedy of the Florentine asked, Who is the ill-bred lout who made that rhapsody? Gringwa would gladly have inquired of his neighbor. Whose masterpiece is this? The reader can now judge of the effect produced upon him by the abrupt and unseasonable arrival of the cardinal. That which he had feared was only too fully realized. The entrance of his eminence upset the audience.

Starting point is 01:08:06 All heads turned towards the gallery. It was no longer possible to hear oneself, "'The Cardinal! The Cardinal!' repeated all mouths. The unhappy prologues stopped short for the second time. The Cardinal halted for a moment on the threshold of the Estrade, while he was sending a rather indifferent glance around the audience. the tumult redoubled each person wished to get a better view of him each man vied with the other in thrusting his head over his neighbor's shoulder he was in fact an exalted personage the sight of whom was well worth any other comedy charles cardinal de bourbon archbishop and comte of leone primate of the gauls was allied both to louis the eleventh through his brother pierre signor de bourbon

Starting point is 01:08:57 Moujo, who had married the king's eldest daughter, and to Charles the Bold, through his mother, Agnes of Burgundy. Now the dominating trait, the peculiar and distinctive trait of the character of the primate of the Gauls, was the spirit of the courtier, and devotion to the powers that be. The reader can form an idea of the numberless embarrassments which this double relationship had caused him, and of all the temporal reefs among which his spiritual bark had been forced to tack. in order not to suffer shipwreck on either Louis or Charles, that Silla and that Caribdis, which had devoured the Duke de Nemours and the constable de Saint-Pol.

Starting point is 01:09:40 Thanks to heaven's mercy, he had made the voyage successfully and had reached home without hindrance. But although he was in port, and precisely because he was in port, he never recalled without disquiet the varied haps of his political career, so long uneasy and laborious. Thus, he was in the habit of saying that the year 1476 had been white and black for him, meaning thereby that in the course of that year he had lost his mother, the Duchess de la Bourbonnet, and his cousin, the Duke of Burgundy, and that one grief had consoled him for the other. Nevertheless, he was a fine man. He had led a joyous Cardinal's life, liked to enliven himself with the royal vintage of chalueau did not hate richard de la garmois and thomas la seyard bestowed alms on pretty girls rather than on old women and for all these reasons was very agreeable to the populace of paris

Starting point is 01:10:45 he never went about otherwise than surrounded by a small court of bishops and abbees of high lineage gallant jovial and given to carousing on occasion And, more than once, the good and devout women of Saint-Germain-Dougère, when passing at night beneath the brightly illuminated windows of Bourbon, had been scandalized to hear the same voices, which had intoned vespers for them during the day, caroling to the clinking of glasses, the bacchic proverb of Benedict the twelfth, that pope who had added a third crown to the tiara, Bibamus Papalitare. It was this justly acquired popularity, no doubt, which preserved him on his entrance from any bad reception at the hands of the mob, which had been so displeased but a moment before, and very

Starting point is 01:11:37 little disposed to respect a cardinal on the very day when it was to elect a pope. But the Parisians cherished little rancor, and then, having forced the beginning of the play by their authority, the good bourgeois had got the upper hand of the cardinal, and this triumph was sufficient for them. Moreover, the Cardinal de Bourbon was a handsome man. He wore a fine scarlet robe which he carried off very well, that is to say, he had all the women on his side, and consequently the best half of the audience. Assuredly, it would be injustice and bad taste to hoot a cardinal for having come late to the spectacle, when he is a handsome man and when he wears his scarlet robe well. He entered then, bowed to those present with the hereditary

Starting point is 01:12:28 smile of the great for the people, and directed his course slowly towards his scarlet velvet armchair, with the air of thinking of something quite different. His cortege, what we should nowadays call his staff, of bishops and abbés invaded the Estrade in his train, not without causing redoubled tumult and curiosity among the audience. Each man vied with his neighbor in pointing them out and naming them, in seeing who should recognize at least one of them. This one, the Bishop of Marseille, Alouette, if my memory serves me right, this one, the primisier of Saint-Denis, this one, Robert de la Cernasse, abb of Saint-Germain-Depre,

Starting point is 01:13:13 that libertine brother of a mistress of Louis X.11, all with many errors and absurdities. As for the scholars, they swore. This was their day, their feast of fools, their Saturnalia, the annual orgy of the corporation of law clerks and of the school. There was no turpitude which was not sacred on that day, and then there were gay gossips in the crowd, Simone Quattrelivre, Agnes Legardin, and Rabin Pia de Bo. Was it not the least that one could do to swear at one's ease? and revile the name of God a little on so fine a day, in such good company as dignitaries

Starting point is 01:13:55 of the church and loose women? So they did not abstain, and in the midst of the uproar there was a frightful concert of blasphemies and enormities of all the unbridled tongues, the tongues the tongues of clerks and students restrained during the rest of the year by the fear of the hot iron of Saint-Louis. Poor Saint-Louis! How they set him at defiance in his own court of law. Each one of them selected from the newcomers on the platform, a black, gray, white, or violet cassock as his target. Johannes Frollo de Mollandine, in his quality of brother to an archdeacon,

Starting point is 01:14:35 boldly attacked the scarlet. He sang in deafening tones, with his impudent eyes fastened on the cardinal, "'Capa repleto, Mero!' All these details which we hear lay bare, for the edification of the reader, were so covered by the general uproar that they were lost in it before reaching the reserved platforms. Moreover, they would have moved the Cardinal but little, so much a part of the customs were the liberties of that day. Moreover, he had another cause for solicitude, and his mean as wholly preoccupied with it which entered the Estrade

Starting point is 01:15:13 the same time as himself. This was the embassy from Flanders. Not that he was a profound politician, nor was he borrowing trouble about the possible consequences of the marriage of his cousin Marguerite de Bergoin to his cousin Charles Dauphin de Vienne, nor as to how long the good understanding which had been patched up between the Duke of Austria and the King of France would last, nor how the King of England would take this disdain of his daughter. All that troubled him but little, and he gave a warm reception every evening to the wine of the royal vintage of Chayot, without a suspicion that several flasks of that same wine, somewhat revised and corrected it is true by Dr. Quatier, cordially offered to

Starting point is 01:16:03 Edward IV by Louis XI. 11th would, some fine mourning, rid Louis XI.11 of Edward the fourth. The much-honoured embassy of Monsieur the Duke of Austria, brought the cardinal none of these cares, but it troubled him in another direction. It was, in fact, somewhat hard, and we have already hinted at it on the second page of this book. For him, Charles de Bourbon, to be obliged to feast and receive cordially, no one knows what bourgeois. For him, a cardinal to receive aldermen.

Starting point is 01:16:38 For him, a Frenchman, a jolly companion, to receive Flemish beer-drinkers, and that in public. This was certainly one of the most irksome grimaces that he had ever executed for the good pleasure of the king. So he turned toward the door, and with the best grace in the world, so well had he trained himself to it, when the usher announced, in a sonorous voice, "'Monsieur, the envoys of Monsieur the Duke of Austria!' It is useless to add that the whole hall did the same.

Starting point is 01:17:13 Then arrived two by two with a gravity which made a contrast in the midst of the frisky ecclesiastical escort of Charles de Barbom, the eight and forty ambassadors of Maximilian of Austria, having at their head the Reverend Father in God, Jeanne Abbott of Saint Bartain, Chancellor of the Golden Fleece, and Jacques de Gaulle, Seor Dobie, Grand bailiff of Gaunt. A deep silence settled over the Assembly, accompanied by stifled laughter at the preposterous names and all the bourgeois designations which each of these personages transmitted with imperturbable gravity to the usher, who then tossed names and titles pell-mell and mutilated to the crowd below. There were Master Luas Relouf, aldermen of the city of Lovain, Monsieur Clay D'Atuay, aldermen of Brussels, Monsieur Paul de Bois, Seigneur de Vormazel,

Starting point is 01:18:13 President of Flanders. Master Jehanne Collegens, Burgermaster of the City of Antwerp. Master Georges de la Muerre, first aldermen of the Quare of the City of Gaunt. Master Geldof van der Heig, first aldermen of the Parchus of the said town, and the Sieur de Birbeck,

Starting point is 01:18:33 and Jehan Pinnock, and Jehan de Marselle, etc., etc., etc., etc. Baylifts, alderman, burgomasters, burgomasters, aldermen, bailiffs. All stiff, affectedly grave, formal, dressed out in velvet and damask, hooded with caps of black velvet, with great tufts of cypress gold thread. Good flemish heads, after all, severe and worthy faces, of the family which Rembrandt makes to stand out so strong and gray from the black background of his night patrol, personages, all of whom bore written on their brows, that Maximilian of

Starting point is 01:19:14 Austria had done well in trusting implicitly, as the manifest ran, in their sense, valor, experience, loyalty, and good wisdom. There was one exception, however, it was a subtle, intelligent, crafty-looking face, a sort of combined monkey and diplomat fizz before whom the cardinal made three steps and a profound bow and whose name nevertheless was only gaium rhyme counsellor and pensioner of the city of ghent few persons were then aware who guyome rhyme was a rare genius who in a time of revolution would have made a brilliant appearance on the surface of events but who who in the 15th century, was reduced to cavernous intrigues and to living in minds, as the Duke de Saint-Simon expresses it. Nevertheless, he was appreciated by the minor of Europe. He plotted familiarly with Louis the eleventh, and often lent a hand to the king's secret jobs. All which things were quite unknown

Starting point is 01:20:23 to that throng, who were amazed at the cardinal's politeness to that frail figure of a Flemish bailiff. End of Chapter 3. Book 1st, Chapter 4 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 1st, Chapter 4, Master Jacques Capanole. While the pensioner of Ghent and his eminence were exchanging very low boughs, and a few words in voices still lower, a man of lofty stature with a large, face and broad shoulders presented himself, in order to enter a breast with Gaium Rime. One would have pronounced him a bulldog by the side of a fox. His felt doublet and leather jerkin made a spot on the velvet and silk which surrounded him. Presuming that he was

Starting point is 01:21:27 some groom who had stolen in, the usher stopped him. "'Hold, my friend, you cannot pass!' The man in the leather jerkin shouldered him aside. "'What does this knave want with me?' said he in stentorian tones, which rendered the entire hall attentive to this strange colloquy. "'Don't you see that I am one of them?' "'Your name?' demanded the usher. "'Jacques Capanole. "'Your titles?

Starting point is 01:21:58 "'Hosier at the sign of the three little chains of Ghent.' The usher recoiled. "'One might bring oneself to announce aldermen, and burgomasters, but a hosier was too much. The cardinal was on thorns. All the people were staring and listening. For two days his eminence had been exerting his utmost efforts to lick these Flemish bears into shape, and to render them a little more presentable to the public. And this freak was startling. But Gaium Rime, with his polished smile, approached the usher. "'Announce Master Jacques Caponol,

Starting point is 01:22:37 "'clerc of the alderman of the city of Ghent,' he whispered very low. "'Usher,' interposed the Cardinal aloud. "'Announce Master Jacques Caponol, "'c, clerk of the alderman of the illustrious city of Ghent.' "'This was a mistake. "'Gaiom Rheim alone might have conjured away the difficulty, "'but Caponel had heard the Cardinal. "'No cross of God, yet.

Starting point is 01:23:03 exclaimed, in his voice of thunder, Jacques Caponell, hosier, do you hear, usher, nothing more, nothing less. Cross of God, hosier, that's fine enough. The Monsieur the Archduke has more than once sought his gant in my hose. Laughter and applause burst forth. A jest is always understood in Paris,

Starting point is 01:23:27 and consequently always applauded. Let us add that Copanol was of the people. and that the auditors which surrounded him were also of the people. Thus the communication between him and them had been prompt, electric, and, so to speak, on a level. The haughty air of the Flemish hosier, by humiliating the courtiers, had touched in all these plebeian souls that latent sentiment of dignity still vague and indistinct in the 15th century. This hosier was an equal, who had just held his own before Monsieur the Cardinal, A very sweet reflection to poor fellows habituated to respect and obedience towards the underlings

Starting point is 01:24:08 of the sergeants of the bailiff of San Janvieve, the Cardinals' train-bearer. Caponot proudly saluted his eminence, who returned the salute of the all-powerful bourgeois feared by Louis XI. Then, while Géhomme Rime, a sage and malicious man, as Philippe de Cominet puts it, watched them both with a smile of raillery and superior. superiority. Each sought his place. The Cardinal quite abashed and troubled, Coppanole, tranquil, and haughty, and thinking, no doubt, that his title of Hosier was as good as any other, after all, and that Marie of Burgundy, mother to that Marguerite whom Copanol was today bestowing in marriage, would have been less afraid of the Cardinal than of the Hosier.

Starting point is 01:24:55 For it is not a cardinal who would have stirred up a revolt among the men of Ghent against the favorites of the daughter of Sharrows the Bold. It is not a cardinal who could have fortified the populace with a word against her tears and prayers when the maid of Flanders came to supplicate her people in their behalf, even at the very foot of the scaffold. While the hosier had only to raise his leather elbow in order to cause to fall your two heads,

Starting point is 01:25:23 the most illustrious seigneur's Guy D'i D'Imbur-Chancelor and Chancellor Geyom Yugonet. Nevertheless, it was over for the poor Cardinal, and he was obliged to quaff to the Dreg's the bitter cup of being in such bad company. The reader has probably not forgotten the impudent beggar who had been clinging fast to the fringes of the Cardinal's gallery ever since the beginning of the prologue. The arrival of the illustrious guests had by no means caused him to relax his hold, and while the prelates and ambassadors were packing themselves into the stalls, like genuine

Starting point is 01:26:01 flemish herrings, he settled himself at his ease, and boldly crossed his legs on the architrave. The insolence of this proceeding was extraordinary, yet no one noticed it at first, the attention of all being directed elsewhere. He, on his side, perceived nothing that was going on in the hall. He wagged his head with the unconcern of a Neapolitic. repeating from time to time amid the clamor, as from a mechanical habit, "'Charity, please!' And assuredly he was, out of all those present, the only one who had not deigned to turn his head at the altercation between Coppanole and the usher.

Starting point is 01:26:44 Now chance ordained that the master Hosier of Ghent, with whom the people were already in lively sympathy, and upon whom all eyes were riveted, should come and seat himself in the front row of the gallery, directly above the mendicant, and people were not a little amazed to see the Flemish ambassador, on concluding his inspection of the nave thus placed beneath his eyes, bestow a friendly tap on that ragged shoulder. The beggar turned round. There was surprise, recognition, a lighting up of the two countenances, and so forth. Then, without paying the slightest heed in the world to the spectators, the hosier and the wretched being began to converse in a low tone, holding each other's hands. In the meantime, while the rags of clopin-tree

Starting point is 01:27:32 foe spread out upon the cloth of gold of the dais produced the effect of a caterpillar on an orange. The novelty of this singular scene excited such a murmur of mirth and gaiety in the hall that the cardinal was not slow to perceive it. He half bent forward, and, as from the point where he was placed, he could catch only an imperfect view of true foe's ignominious doublet. He very naturally imagined that the mendicot was asking alms, and disgusted with his audacity, he exclaimed, "'Beliff of the courts, toss me that nave into the river!' "'Cross of God, Monseigneur the Cardinal,' said Coppanold, without quitting Clopin's hand. "'He is a friend of mine.'

Starting point is 01:28:20 "'Good! Good! Good!' shouted the populace. From that moment, Master Copponol enjoyed in Paris, as in Ghent, great favor with the people, for men of that sort do enjoy it, says Philippe de Comene, when they are thus disorderly. The Cardinal bit his lips. He bent towards his neighbor, the Abbe of San Jean-Viev, and said to him in a low tone, Find ambassadors, Monsieur de Archduke sends here, to announce to us Madame Marguerite. "'Your eminence,' replied the Abbe, "'waste your politeness on these Flemish swine.

Starting point is 01:28:57 "'Margaritas anti-Porkos. "'Purls before swine.' "'Say rather,' retorted the cardinal with a smile, "'Porkos anti-Margaritum. "'Swine before the pearl!' "'The whole little court in Cossacks "'went into ecstasies over this play upon words. "'The cardinal felt a little riftainee,

Starting point is 01:29:20 believed. He was quits with Coppanole. He also had had his jest applauded. Now, will those of our readers who possess the power of generalizing an image or an idea, as the expression runs into the style of today, permit us to ask them if they have formed a very clear conception of the spectacle presented at this moment, upon which we have arrested their attention, by the vast parallelogram of the Grand Hall of the Palace? In the middle of the hall, backed against the western wall, a large and magnificent gallery draped with cloth of gold, into which enter in procession, through a small arched door, grave personages, announced successively by the shrill voice of an usher.

Starting point is 01:30:07 On the front benches were already a number of venerable figures, muffled in ermine, velvet, and scarlet. Around the dais, which remains silent and dignified, below opposite, it everywhere, a great crowd, and a great murmur. Thousands of glances directed by the people on each face upon the dais, a thousand whispers over each name. Certainly this spectacle is curious, and well deserves the attention of the spectators. But yonder, quite at the end, what is that sort of trestle-work with four motley puppets upon it, and more below? Who is that man beside the trestle, with a black doublet and a pale face.

Starting point is 01:30:49 Alas, my dear reader, it is Pierre Gringua and his prologue. We have all forgotten him completely. This is precisely what he feared. From the moment of the Cardinal's entrance, Gringua had never ceased to tremble for the safety of his prologue. At first, he had enjoined the actors, who had stopped in suspense, to continue, and to raise their voices. Then, perceiving that no one was listening, he had stopped them. And during the entire quarter of an hour that the interruption lasted, he had not ceased to

Starting point is 01:31:26 stamp, to flounce about, to appeal to Gisket and Leonard, and to urge his neighbors to the continuance of the prologue, all in vain. No one quitted the Cardinal, the embassy, and the gallery, sole center of this vast circle of visual rays. We must also believe, and we say it with regret, that the prologue had begun slightly to weary the audience at the moment when his eminence had arrived, and created a diversion in so terrible a fashion. After all, on the gallery, as well as on the marble table, the spectacle was the same, the conflict of labor and clergy, of nobility and merchandise. And many people preferred to see them alive, breathing, moving,

Starting point is 01:32:15 moving, elbowing each other in flesh and blood, in this Flemish embassy, in this Episcopal court, under the Cardinal's robe, under Coppano's jerkin, then painted, decked out, talking in verse, and so to speak, stuffed beneath the yellow amid white tunics in which Gringua had so ridiculously clothed them. Nevertheless, when our poet beheld quiet re-established to some extent, he devised a stratagem which might have redeemed all. Monsieur, he said, turning towards one of his neighbors, a fine big man with a patient face, suppose we begin again. What, said his neighbor?

Starting point is 01:32:59 A, the mystery, said Gringua. As you like, returned his neighbor. This semi-approbation sufficed for Gringua, and conducting his own affairs, he began to out, confounding himself with the crowd as much as possible. "'Begin the mystery again! Begin again!' "'The devil!' said Joannus de Melendino. "'What are they jabbering down yonder at the end of the hall?' For Gringua was making noise enough for four.

Starting point is 01:33:29 "'Say, comrades, isn't that mystery finished? They want to begin it all over again. That's not fair!' "'No! No!' shouted all the scholars. down with the mystery, down with it! But Gringua had multiplied himself, and only shouted the more vigorously, "'Begin again! Begin again!' These clamors attracted the attention of the Cardinal. "'Monsieur bailiff of the courts,' said he to a tall black man, placed a few paces from him.

Starting point is 01:34:02 "'Are those knaves in a holy water vessel that they make such a hellish noise?' The bailiff of the courts was a sort of amphibious magistrate, a sort of bat of the judicial order, related to both the rat and the bird, the judge, and the soldier. He approached his eminence, and not without a good deal of fear of the latter's displeasure, he awkwardly explained to him the seeming disrespect of the audience, that noonday had arrived before his eminence, and that the comedians had been forced to begin without waiting for his eminence. The Cardinal burst into a laugh. "'On my faith! The rector of the University ought to have done the same.

Starting point is 01:34:43 What say you, Master Gaiom Rheim?' "'Monseigneur,' replied Gaiom Rime, "'let us be content with having escaped half of the comedy. There is at least that much gained.' "'Can these rascals continue their farce?' asked the bailiff. "'Continue, continue,' said the Cardinal. "'It's all the same to me. I'll read my breviary in the meantime."

Starting point is 01:35:08 The bailiff advanced to the edge of the Estrade, and cried, after having invoked silence by a wave of the hand, "'Beshoie, rustics, and citizens! In order to satisfy those who wish the play to begin again, and those who wish it to end, his eminence orders, that it be continued!' Both parties were forced to resign themselves. But the public and the author long cherished a grudge

Starting point is 01:35:36 against the cardinal. So, the personages on the stage took up their parts, and Gringua hoped that the rest of his work at least would be listened to. This hope was speedily dispelled, like his other illusions. Silence had indeed been restored in the audience after a fashion. But Gringua had not observed that, at the moment when the Cardinal gave the order to continue, the gallery was far from full, and that after the Fleminger's time. envoys there had arrived, new personages, forming part of the cortege, whose names and ranks

Starting point is 01:36:12 shouted out in the midst of his dialogue by the intermittent cry of the usher, produced considerable ravages in it. Let the reader imagine the effect in the midst of a theatrical piece of the yelping of an usher, flinging in between two rhymes and often in the middle of a line, parentheses like the following. Master Jacques Charmeloou, procurator to the king in the ecclesiastical courts. Jehan de Arlée, equerry guardian of the office of Chevalier of the Night Watch of the City of Paris. Monsieur Gellio de Genuayac, Chevalier, Signor de Broussac, Master of the King's Artillery. Mr. Du Raguay, surveyor of the woods and forests,

Starting point is 01:37:03 of the King our sovereign in the land of France, Champagne and Brie. Monsieur Louis de Gravy, Chivalier, Counselor and Chamberlain of the King, Admiral of France, keeper of the Forest of Vincent. Master Denis Le Merci, 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 Gringhua 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.

Starting point is 01:37:48 It was, in fact, difficult to imagine a more ingenious and more dramatic composition. The four personages of the prologue were bewailing themselves in their mortal embarrassment, when Venus in person, Vera Incessa Patuit Dea, presented herself to them, clad in a fine robe bearing the heraldic device of the ship of the city of Paris. She had come herself to claim the dolphin promised to the most beautiful. Jupiter, whose thunder could be heard rumbling in the dressing-room, supported her claim, and Venus was on the point of carrying it off, that is to say, without allegory, of marrying Monsieur the Dauphin, when a young child, clad in white damask and holding in her hand a daisy,

Starting point is 01:38:37 a transparent personification of Mademoiselle Marguerita Flanders, came to contest it with Venus. Theatrical effect and change After a dispute, Venus, Marguerite, and the assistants agreed to submit to the good judgment of Time Holy Virgin. There was another good part, that of the King of the King of VIII. Mesopotamia, but through so many interruptions it was difficult to make out what end he served. All these persons had ascended by ladder to the stage. But all was over. None of these beauties had been felt nor understood. On the entrance of the cardinal one would have said that an invisible

Starting point is 01:39:19 magic thread had suddenly drawn all glances from the marble table to the gallery, from the southern to the western extremity of the hall. Nothing could disenchant the audience. All eyes remained fixed there, and the newcomers and their accursed names and their faces and their costumes afforded a continual diversion. This was very distressing. With the exception of Gisket and Leonard, who turned round from time to time when Gringua plucked them by the sleeve, with the exception of the big, patient neighbor, no one listened. No one looked at the poor, deserted morality full face.

Starting point is 01:39:58 Gringwa saw only profiles. With what bitterness did he behold this whole erection of glory, and of poetry crumbled away bit by bit, and to think that these people have been upon the point of instituting a revolt against the bailiff through impatience to hear his work. Now that they had it, they did not care for it. This same representation which had been begun amid so unanimous an acclamation. Eternal floods and ebb of popular favor. To think that they had been on the point of hanging the bailiff's sergeant!

Starting point is 01:40:35 What would he not have given to be still at that hour of honey? But the usher's brutal monologue came to an end. Everyone had arrived, and Gringua breathed freely once more. The actors continued bravely. But Master Coppano, the hosier, must needs rise of a sudden, and Gringua was forced to listen to him deliver, amid universal attention, the following abominable harangueue. Monsieur's the Bejouroix and Squires of Paris,

Starting point is 01:41:06 I don't know, cross of God, what we are doing here. I certainly do see yonder in the corner on that stage some people who appear to be fighting. I don't know whether that is what you call a mystery, but it is not amusing. They quarrel with their tongues, and nothing more. I have been waiting for the first blow this quarter of an hour. Nothing comes. They are cowards who only scratch each other with insults. You ought to send for the fighters of London or Rotterdam,

Starting point is 01:41:39 and I can tell you you would have had blows of the fist that could be heard in the place. But these men excite our pity. They ought at least to give us a Moorish dance or some other mummer, That is not what was told me. I was promised a feast of fools, with the election of a Pope. We have our Pope of fools at Ghent also. We're not behind-hand in that cross of God. But this is the way we manage it.

Starting point is 01:42:09 We collect a crowd like this one here. Then each person in turn passes his head through a hole and makes a grimace at the rest. Time, one who makes the ugliest, is elected Pope by general acclamation. That's the way it is. It is very diverting. Would you like to make your pope after the fashion of my country? At all events, it will be less wearisome than to listen to chatterers. If they wish to come and make their grimaces through the hole, they can join the game. What say you, messrs. Le Bourgeois? You have here enough grotesque specimens of both sexes to allow of laughing in Flemish fashion. and there are enough of us ugly incontinence to hope for a fine grinning match.

Starting point is 01:42:57 Gringua would have liked to retort. Stupifaction, rage, indignation deprived him of words. Moreover, the suggestion of the popular hosier was received with such enthusiasm by these bourgeois who were flattered at being called squires that all resistance was useless. There was nothing to be done but to allow oneself. to drift with a torrent. Gringwa hid his face between his two hands, not being so fortunate as to have a mantle with which to veil his head, like Agamemnon of Tamanus. End of Chapter 4. Book 1st, Chapter 5 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo.

Starting point is 01:43:52 This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 1st, Chapter 5 Quasimoto In the twinkling of an eye, all was ready to execute Coppano's idea. Bougoir, scholars, and law clerks all set to work. The little chapel situated opposite the marble table was selected for the scene of the grinning match. A pane broken in the pretty rose window above the door, left free a circle of stone through which it was agreed that the competitor should thrust their heads. In order to reach it, it was only necessary to mount upon a couple of hogsheads,

Starting point is 01:44:30 which had been produced from, I know not where, and perched one upon the other after a fashion. It was settled that each candidate, man or woman, for it was possible to choose a female pope, should, for the sake of leaving the impression of his grimace, fresh and complete, cover his face and remain concealed in the chapel until the moment of his appearance. In less than an instant, the chapel was crowded with competitors, upon whom the door was then closed. Coppanole, from his post, ordered all, directed all, arranged all. During the uproar, the Cardinal, no less abashed than Gringua, had retired with all his suite, under the pretext of business and vespers, without the crowd which his arrival had so deeply

Starting point is 01:45:18 stirred being in the least moved by his departure. Guyom Rhyme was the only one who noticed his eminence's discomfiture. The attention of the populace, like the sun, pursued its revolution. Having set out from one end of the hall and halted for a space in the middle, it had now reached the other end. The marble table, the brocated gallery, had each had their day. It was now the turn of the chapel of Louis XI. 11th. Henceforth the field was open to all folly.

Starting point is 01:45:50 There was no one there now, but the Fleming's and the rabble. The grimaces began. The first face which appeared at the aperture, with eyelids turned up to the reds, a mouth open like a maw, and a brow wrinkled like our Hussar boots of the empire, evoked such an inextinguishable peal of laughter that Homer would have taken all these louts for gods. Nevertheless, the Grand Hall was anything but Olympus, and Grimus, and Ringuas's poor Jupiter knew it better than anyone else. A second and third grimace followed, then another and another,

Starting point is 01:46:28 and the laughter and transports of delight went on increasing. There was, in this spectacle, a peculiar power of intoxication and fascination, of which it would be difficult to convey to the reader of our day and our salons any idea. Let the reader picture to himself a series of visages presenting successfully all geometric forms, from the triangle to the trapezium, from the cone to the polyhedron, all human expressions, from wrath to lewdness, all ages, from the wrinkles of the

Starting point is 01:47:04 newborn babe to the wrinkles of the aged and dying, all religious phantasmagories, from fawn to Beelzebub, all animal profiles, from the maw to the beak, from the jowl to the muzzle, Let the reader imagine all these grotesque figures of the Pont Noof, whose nightmares petrified beneath the hand of Germain-Pillon, assuming life and breath, and coming in to stare at you in the face with burning eyes. All the masks of the Carnival of Venice passing in succession before your glass, in a word, a human kaleidoscope. The orgy grew more and more Flemish. Ten years could have given but a very imperfect idea of it. Let the reader picture to himself in Bacchanal form, Salvatore Rosa's Battle.

Starting point is 01:47:56 There were no longer either scholars or ambassadors or bourgeois or men or women. There was no longer any Clopin Troffaut or Gilles Le Corneau or Marie Quattrelivres or Robin Pospin. All was universal license. The Grand Hall was no longer anything but a valse, vast furnace of effrontery and joviality, where every mouth was a cry, every individual a posture. Everything shouted and howled. The strange visages which came in turn to gnash their teeth in the rose window were like so many brants cast into the brazier, and from the whole of this effervescing crowd there escaped, as from a furnace, a sharp, piercing, stinging noise, hissing like the wings of a

Starting point is 01:48:45 gait. Ho-A! Curse it! Just look at that face! It's not good for anything. Goyimette Moujeer-Pui, just look at that bull's muzzle. It only lacks the horns. It can't be your husband. Another! Belly of the Pope! What sort of a grimace is that? Ola-e! That's cheating! One must show only one's face! That damned Perrette Calabot! She's capable of that. Good, good, I'm stifling. There's a fellow whose ears won't go through, et cetera, et cetera. But we must do justice to our friend Jahan.

Starting point is 01:49:28 In the midst of this witch's Sabbath, he was still to be seen on the top of his pillar, like the cabin boy on the topmast. He floundered about with incredible fury. His mouth was wide open, and from it there escaped a cry which no one heard, not that it was covered by the general clamor, great as that was, but because it attained, no doubt, the limit of perceptible sharp sounds, the thousand vibrations of Saviour, or the eight thousands of B.O. As for Gringua, the first moment of depression having passed, he had regained his composure. He had hardened himself against adversity.

Starting point is 01:50:09 "'Continue!' he had said for the third time to his comedian. Indians, speaking machines. Then, as he was marching with great strides in front of the marble table, a fancy seized him to go and appear in his turn at the aperture of the chapel, were it only for the pleasure of making a grimace at that ungrateful populace. But no, that would not be worthy of us, no vengeance. Let us combat until the end, he repeated to himself. The power of poetry over people is great. I will bring them back. We shall see which will carry the day, grimaces or polite literature. Alas, he had been left the sole spectator of his peace. It was far worse than it had been a little

Starting point is 01:50:59 while before. He no longer beheld anything but backs. I am mistaken. The big patient man, whom he had already consulted in a critical moment, had remained with his face turned towards the stage. As for Gisket and Leonard, they had deserted him long ago. Gringua was touched to the heart by the fidelity of his only spectator. 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 Gringua, "'I thank you.' "'Monsieur,' replied the big man with a yawn, "'for what?' "'I see what wearies you,' resumed the poet.

Starting point is 01:51:46 "'Tis all this noise which prevents your hearing comfortably. "'But be at ease. Your name shall descend to posterity. Your name, if you please?' "'Renau-Chateau, guardian of the seals of the Chatea of Paris, at your service. "'Monsieur, you are the only representative of the muses here,' said Gringua. "'You are two kind, sir.' sir, said the guardian of the seals at the Chatelle. "'You are the only one,' resumed Gringua, who has listened to the peace decorously.

Starting point is 01:52:22 What do you think of it?' "'Eh, eh,' replied the fat magistrate, half aroused. "'It's tolerably jolly, that's a fact.' Gringua was forced to content himself with this eulogy, for a thunder of applause, mingled with a prodigious acclamation, cut their conversation short. The Pope of the fools had been elected. "'Noel! Noel! Noel! shouted the people on all sides. That was, in fact, a marvelous grimace

Starting point is 01:52:54 which was beaming at that moment through the aperture in the rose window. After all the pentagonal, hexagonal, and whimsical faces, which had succeeded each other at the whole without realizing the ideal of the grotesque which their imaginations, excited by the orgy, had constructed, nothing less was needed to win their suffrages than the sublime grimace which had just dazzled the assembly. Master Caponol himself applauded, and Clopin Trefo, who had been among the competitors, and God knows what intensity of ugliness his visage could attain, confessed himself conquered. We will do the same. We shall not try to give the reader an idea of that tetrahedral nose, that horseshoe mouth, that little left eye obstructed with a red, bushy,

Starting point is 01:53:43 bristling eyebrow, while the right eye disappeared entirely beneath an enormous wart. Of those teeth in disarray, broken here and there like the embattled parapet of a fortress, of that callous lip upon which one of those teeth encroached, like the tusk of an elephant, of that forked chin, and above all, of the expression spread over the whole, of that mixture of malice, amazement, and sadness. Let the reader dream of this hole if he can. The acclamation was unanimous. People rushed towards the chapel.

Starting point is 01:54:21 They made the lucky pope of the fools come forth in triumph. But it was then that surprise and admiration attained their highest pitch. The grimace was his face. Or rather, his whole person was a grimace. A huge head, bristling with red hair, between his shoulders, an enormous hump, a counterpart perceptible in front, a system of thighs and legs so strangely astray that they could touch each other only at the knees, and viewed from the front resembled the crescents of two sides joined by the handles, large feet, monstrous hands, and with the

Starting point is 01:55:02 all this deformity, an indescribable and redoubtable air of vigor, agility, and courage. Strange exception to the eternal rule which wills that force as well as beauty shall be the result of harmony. Such was the pope whom the fools had just chosen for themselves. One would have pronounced him a giant, who had been broken, and badly put together again. When this species of Cyclops appeared on the threshold of the chapel, motionless, squat, and almost as broad as he was tall, squared on the base, as a great man says, with his doublet half-red, half-violet, sewn with silver bells, and above all, in the perfection of his ugliness, the populace recognized him on the instant, and shouted with one voice,

Starting point is 01:55:53 "'Tis Quasimodo, the bell-ringer! Tis-Quasimodo! The hunch-be! of Notre Dame, Quasimodo the one-eyed, Quasimodo, the bandy-legged, Noel, Noel! It will be seen that the poor fellow had a choice of surnames. Let the women with child beware, shouted the scholars.

Starting point is 01:56:16 Or those who wish to be, resumed Joanne. The women did, in fact, hide their faces. Oh, the horrible monkey, said one of them. "'As wicked as he is ugly,' retorted another. "'He is the devil,' added a third. "'I have the misfortune to live near Notre Dame. "'I hear him prowling round the eaves by night. "'With the cats.

Starting point is 01:56:42 "'He's always on our roofs. "'He throws spells down our chimneys. "'The other evening he came and made a grimace at me "'through my attic window. "'I thought that it was a man, such a fright as I had. i'm sure that he goes to the witch's sabbath once he left a broom on my leads oh what a displeasing hunchback's face oh what an ill-favored soul you the men on the contrary were delighted and applauded quasimodo the object of the tumult still stood on the threshold of the chapel sombre and grave and allowed them to admire him once scholar, Roban-Puis-Pan, I think, came and laughed in his face, and too close. Quasimodo

Starting point is 01:57:34 contended himself with taking him by the girdle and hurling him ten paces off amid the crowd, all without uttering a word. Master Caponol, in amazement, approached him. Cross of God! Holy Father! You possess the handsomest ugliness that I have ever beheld in my life! You would deserve to be Pope at Rome as well as at Paris. So saying he placed his hand gaily on his shoulder. Quasimodo did not stir. Cuppinol went on. You are a rogue with whom I have a fancy for carousing,

Starting point is 01:58:12 were it to cost me a new dozen of twelve livres of tours. How does it strike you? Quasimoto made no reply. Cross of God, said the hosier. Are you deaf? He was, in truth, deaf. Nevertheless, he began to grow impatient with Campanol's behavior, and suddenly turned towards him, with so formidable a gnashing of teeth,

Starting point is 01:58:37 that the Flemish giant recoiled, like a bulldog before a cat. Then there was created around that strange personage, a circle of terror and respect, whose radius was at least fifteen geometrical feet. An old woman explained to Campanol that Quasimot, was deaf. Deaf, said the hosier, with his great Flemish laugh, "'Cross of God! He's a perfect Pope!'

Starting point is 01:59:05 "'He! I recognize him!' exclaimed Jehan, who had at last descended from his capital in order to see Quasimodo at closer quarters. "'He's the bell-ringer of my brother, the Archdeacon. Good day, Quasimodo!' "'What a devil of a man!' said, Roban-Pus-Pan, still all bruised with his fall. He shows himself. He's a hunchback. He walks. He's bandy-legged. He looks at you. He's one-eyed. You speak to him. He's deaf. And what does this polyphemus do with his tongue?

Starting point is 01:59:43 He speaks when he chooses, said the old woman. He became deaf through ringing the bells. He is not "'Dumb?' "'That he lacks,' remarks Jehan. "'And he has one eye too many,' added Roban Puss Pann. "'Not at all,' says Jehan wisely. "'A one-eyed man is far less complete than a blind man. "'He knows what he lacks.' In the meantime, all the beggars, all the lackeys, all the cut-purses,

Starting point is 02:00:17 joined with the scholars, had gone in procession to seek in the cupboard of the law clerk's company, the cardboard tiara, and the derisive robe of the Pope of fools. Quasimodo allowed them to array him in them without wincing, and with a sort of proud docility. Then they made him seat himself on a motley litter. Twelve officers of the fraternity of fools raised him on their shoulders, and a sort of bitter and disdainful joy lighted up the morose face of the cyclops, when he beheld beneath his deformed feet all those heads of the handsome, straight, well-made men. Then the ragged and howling procession set out on its march,

Starting point is 02:01:02 according to custom, around the inner galleries of the courts, before making the circuit of the streets and squares. End of Chapter 5. Book 1st, Chapter 6 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 6. Esmeralda We are delighted to be able to inform the reader that during the hold of this scene, Gringwa and his piece had stood firm. His actors, spurred on by him, had not ceased to spout his comedy, and he had not ceased to

Starting point is 02:01:50 listen to it. He had made up his mind about the tumult, and was determined to proceed to the end, not giving up the hope of a return of attention on the part of the public. This gleam of hope acquired fresh life, when he saw Quasimodo, Capanole, and the deafening escort of the Pope of the procession of fools quit the hall amid the great uproar. The throng rushed eagerly after them. Good, he said to himself, There go all the mischief-makers. Unfortunately, all the mischief-makers constituted the entire audience.

Starting point is 02:02:26 In the twinkling of an eye, the Grand Hall was empty. To tell the truth, a few spectators still remained. Some scattered, others in groups around the pillars, women, old men, or children, who had had enough of the uproar and tumult. Some scholars were still perched astride of the windowsills, engaged in gazing into the place. "'Well,' thought Gringwa, "'here are still as many as are required to hear the end of my

Starting point is 02:02:56 mystery. 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. Gringhua perceived that his music had been carried off by the procession of the Pope of fools. "'Skip it,' said he, stoically. He approached a group of bourgeois, who seemed to him to be discussing his piece. This is the fragment of conversation which he caught. You know Master Shenateau, the Hotel de Navarre, which belonged to Monsieur de Namours? Yes, opposite the Chappelle de Brac.

Starting point is 02:03:40 Well, the treasury has just led it to Gai'om Alexander, historian, for six Irez, eight souls, Parisian a year. How rents are going up! Come, said Gringua to himself with a sigh. the others are listening. Comrades! Suddenly shouted one of the young scamps from the window. La Esmeralda!

Starting point is 02:04:03 La Esmeralda in the place! This word produced a magical effect. Everyone who was left in the hall flew to the windows, climbing the walls in order to see, and repeating, La Esmeralda! La Esmeralda! At the same time, a great sound of applause was heard from without. What's the meaning of this of the Esmeralda? said Gringua, wringing his hands in despair. Ah, good heavens! It seems to be the turn of the windows now. He returned towards the marble table

Starting point is 02:04:37 and saw that the representation had been interrupted. It was precisely at the instant when Jupiter should have appeared with his thunder, but Jupiter was standing motionless at the foot of the stage. "'Michel Gibon,' cried the irritated poet, "'what are you doing there? Is that your part? Come up.' "'Alas,' said Jupiter, "'a scholar has just seized the ladder.' Gringwa looked. It was all but too true. All communication between his plot and its solution was intercepted.

Starting point is 02:05:11 "'The rascal,' he murmured, "'and why did he take that ladder?' "'In order to go and see Asmoralda.' replied Jupiter piteously. He said, Come, here's a ladder that's of no use, and he took it. This was the last blow. Gringwa received it with resignation. "'May the devil fly away with you,' he said to the comedian. "'And if I get my pay, you shall receive yours.'

Starting point is 02:05:41 Then he beat a retreat with drooping head, but the last in the field, like a general who has fought well. And as he descended the winding stairs of the courts, "'A fine rabble of asses and dolts these Parisians,' he muttered between his teeth. "'They come to hear a mystery, and don't listen to it at all. They are engrossed by everyone, by Chopin Trefu, by the Cardinal, by Copanol, by Quasimodo, by the devil. But by the Madame the Virgin Mary, not at all.

Starting point is 02:06:14 If I had known, I'd have given you Virgin Mary. You ninnies! And I, to come to see the faces and behold only backs, to be a poet, and to reap the success of an apothecary. It is true that Homerus begged through the Greek towns, and that Nassau died in exile among the Muscovites. But may the devil flay me if I understand what they mean with their Esmeralda. What is that word in the first place?

Starting point is 02:06:44 Tis Egyptian! End of Chapter 6. Book 2nd, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 2nd, Chapter 1, From Caribdis to Silla. Night comes on early in January. The streets were already dark when Gringua issued forth from the courts. This gloom pleased him.

Starting point is 02:07:21 He was in haste to reach some obscure and deserted alley, in order there to meditate at his ease, and in order that the philosopher might place the first dressing upon the wound of the poet. Philosophy, moreover, was his sole refuge, for he did not know where he was to lodge for the night. After the brilliant failure of his first theatrical venture, he dared not return to the lodging which he occupied in the Rue Grigny-sur-Leod, opposite to the Port-of-Fouin, having depended upon rest of his own. receiving from Monsieur de Provost for his epithalamium, the wherewithal to pay Master Gélyom du Cere, farmer of the taxes on cloven-footed animals in Paris, the rent which he owed him,

Starting point is 02:08:08 that is to say, twelve Saul's Parisian, twelve times the value of all that he possessed in the world, including his trunk hose, his shirt, and his cap. After reflecting a moment, temporarily sheltered beneath the little wicket of the prison of the treasure of the Saint-Chapelle, as to the shelter which he would select for the night, having all the pavements of Paris to choose from, he remembered to have noticed the week previously, in the Rue de la Sabateri, at the door of a councillor of the Parliament, a stepping-stone for mounting a mule, and to have said to himself that the stone would furnish, on occasion, a very excellent pillow for a mendicant or a poet.

Starting point is 02:08:51 He thanked Providence for having sent this happy idea to him, but as he was preparing to cross the place, in order to reach the torturous labyrinth of the city, where meander all those old sister streets, the ruse della barillerie, della Ville drapery, della savatery, de la Jouverie, etc., still extant today with their nine-story houses, he saw the procession of the Pope of fools, which was also also emerging from the courthouse, and rushing across the courtyard with great cries, a great flashing of torches, and the music which belonged to him Gringua. This sight revived the pain of his self-love. He fled. In the bitterness of his dramatic misadventure, everything which reminded him of the festival of that day, irritated his wound

Starting point is 02:09:46 and made it bleed. He was on the point of turning to the Pont-Samp-Miches. shell. Children were running about here and there with firelances and rockets. Pest on firework candles, said Gringua, and he fell back on the Pont of Change. To the house at the head of the bridge there had been affixed three small banners, representing the king, the dauphin, and Marguerite of Flanders, and six little penins on which were portrayed the Duke of Austria, the Cardinal de Brabant, Monsieur de Beauce, and Madame Jean de France. and Malshue the bastard of Bourbon.

Starting point is 02:10:24 I know not whom else, all being illuminated with torches. The rabble were admiring. Happy painter Jean Farbo, said Gringua with a deep sigh, and he turned his back upon the bannets and pennons. A street opened before him. He thought it so dark and deserted that he hoped to there escape from all the rumors, as well as from all the gleams of the festival. At the end of a few moments his foot came in contact with an obstacle.

Starting point is 02:10:55 He stumbled and fell. It was the May Truss, which the clerks of the clerk's law court had deposited that morning at the door of a president of the Parliament, in honor of the solemnity of the day. Gringwa bore this new disaster heroically. He picked himself up and reached the water's edge. After leaving behind him the civic tournell and the criminal tower, and skirted the great walls of the king's garden, on that unpaved strand where the mud reached to his ankles, he reached the western point of the city, and considered for some time the islet of

Starting point is 02:11:30 the Passeur-Ovasse, which has disappeared beneath the bronze horse of the Pont Neuf. The islet appeared to him in the shadows like a black mass, beyond the narrow strip of whitish water which separated him from it. One could divine by the ray of a tiny light, the sort of hut in the form of a beehive, where the ferryman of cows took refuge at night. "'Hapy ferryman,' thought Gringua. "'You do not dream of glory, and you do not make marriage songs. What matters it to you if kings and duchesses of Burgundy Mary?

Starting point is 02:12:07 You know no other daisies, marguerites, than those which your April Green's word gives your cows, to browse upon, while I, a poet, am hooded and shiver, and oh, twelve sous, and the souls of my shoes are so transparent that they might serve as glasses for your lantern. Thanks, ferryman, your cabin rests my eyes, and makes me forget, Paris." He was roused from his almost lyric ecstasy by a big double Saint-Jean Cracker, which suddenly went off from the happy cabin. It was the cow ferryman, who was taking his part in the rejoicings of the day, and letting off fireworks.

Starting point is 02:12:50 This cracker made Gringwa's skin bristle up all over. "'A cursed it festival!' he exclaimed. "'Wilt thou pursue me everywhere? Oh, good God! Even to the ferrymen's!' Then he looked at the seine at his feet, and a horrible temptation took possession of him. "'Oh!' said he, I would gladly drown myself, with the water not so cold.

Starting point is 02:13:17 Then a desperate resolution occurred to him. It was, since he could not escape from the Pope of the Fools, from Jehan for Beers-Bannarettes, from maitrusses, from squibs and crackers, to go to the Plastagrav. At least, he said to himself, I shall there have a firebrand of joy wherewith to warm myself, and I can sup on some crumbs of the, three great armorial bearings of royal sugar which have been erected on the public refreshment

Starting point is 02:13:47 stall of the city. End of Chapter 1. Book 2, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 2, Chapter 2. The Place de Greve There remains today but a very imperceptible vestige of the Plast de Greve. such as it existed then. It consists in the charming little turret, which occupies the angle north of the

Starting point is 02:14:26 place, and which already enshrouded in the ignoble plaster which fills with paste the delicate lines of its sculpture, would soon have disappeared, perhaps submerged by that flood of new houses, which so rapidly devours all the ancient facades of Paris. The persons, who, like ourselves, never crossed the Plastogrev without casting a glance of pity and sympathy on that poor turret, strangled between two hovels of the time of Louis XIV, can easily reconstruct in their minds the aggregate of edifices to which it belonged, and find again entire in it the ancient Gothic place of the 15th century. It was then, as it is today, an irregular trapezoid, bordered on one side by the key and on the other three by a series of lofty, narrow, and gloomy houses.

Starting point is 02:15:20 By day one could admire the variety of its edifices, all sculptured in stone or wood, and already presenting complete specimens of the different domestic architectures of the Middle Ages, running back from the 15th to the 11th century, from the casement which had begun to dethrone the arch, to the Roman semicircle which had been supplanted by the Oge. and which still occupies below it the first story of that ancient house de la tour Roland at the corner of the place upon the same, on the side of the street with the tannery. At night one could distinguish nothing of all that mass of buildings except the black indentation of the roofs, unrolling their chain of acute angles round the

Starting point is 02:16:08 place. For one of the radical differences between the cities of that time and the cities of the present day lay in the facades which looked upon the places and streets, and which were then gables. For the last two centuries the houses have been turned round. In the center of the eastern side of the place rose a heavy and hybrid construction, formed of three buildings placed in juxtaposition. It was called by three names which explain its history, its destination, and its architecture. The house of the Dolphan, because Charles V, when Dolphan had inhabited it, the merchandise, because it had served as town hall, and the pilloried house, Domus ad Pilaria, because of a series of large pillars which sustained the three stories.

Starting point is 02:17:02 The city found there all that is required for a city like Paris, a chapel in which to pray to God, a plaidoyer, or pleading-room in which to hold hearings, and to repel at need the king's people, and under the roof and arsonac, full of artillery. For the bourgeois of Paris were aware that it is not sufficient to pray in every conjuncture, and to plead for the franchises of the city, and they had always in reserve, in the garret of the town hall, a few good, rusty arquebuses. The greve had then that sinister aspect which it preserves today, from the execrable ideas which it awakens, and from the somber town hall of Dominique Bocador, which has replaced the pillared house.

Starting point is 02:17:52 It must be admitted that a permanent gibbet and a pillory, a justice and a ladder, as they were called in that day, erected side by side in the center of the pavement, contributed not a little to cause eyes to be turned away from that fatal place, where so many beings full of life and health have agonized. Here, fifty years later, that fever of Saint-Vallier was destined to have its birth, that terror of the scaffold, the most monstrous of all maladies, because it comes not from God, but from man. It is a consoling idea, let us remark in passing, to think that the death penalty, which, three hundred years ago, still encumbered with its iron wheels, its stone gibbets, and all its paraphernalia

Starting point is 02:18:41 of torture, permanent and riveted to the pavement, the greve, the hall, the Placeauphine, the Cross de Trahuay, the Marsh O Parsot, that hideous Montfasson, the Barrier de Sargent, the Place O'Schat, the Port Saint-Denie, Champagne, the Port St. Boet, the Port St. Jack, without reckoning the innumerable ladders of the provosts, the bishop of the chapters, of the abbots of the priors, who had the decree of life and death, without reckoning the judicial drownings in the river Sane. It is consoling to-day, after having lost successively all the pieces of its armor, its luxury of torment, its penalty of imagination and fancy, its torture, for which it reconstructed every five years a leather bed at the Grand Chattelais,

Starting point is 02:19:36 that ancient suzerain of feudal society almost expunged from our laws and our cities, hunted from code to code, chased from place to place, has no longer in our immense Paris any more than a dishonored corner of the greve, than a miserable guillotine, furtive, uneasy, shameful, which seems always afraid of being caught in the act so quickly does it disappear after having dealt its blow. End of Chapter 2. Book 2, Chapter 3 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 02:20:28 Book 2nd, Chapter 3, Kisses, Four Blows. When Pierre Gringua arrived at the Place de Greve, he was paralyzed. He had directed his course across the Pont-O-Munier in order to avoid the rabble on the Pont-O-Change, and the pennons of Jeanne Forbeau. But the wheels of all the Bishop's mills had splashed him as he passed, and his doublet was drenched. It seemed to him, besides, that the failure of his peace had rendered him still more sensible to coal than usual. Hence he made haste to draw near the bonfire, which was burning magnificent, in the middle of the place. But a considerable crowd formed a circle around it. A cursed Parisians,

Starting point is 02:21:16 he said to himself, for Gringua, like a true dramatic poet, was subject to monologues. There they are obstructing my fire. Nevertheless, I am greatly in need of a chimney corner. My shoes drink in the water, and all those cursed mills wept upon me. That devil of a bishop of Paris with his mills. I'd just like to know what use a bishop can make of a mill. Does he expect to become a miller instead of a bishop? If only my malediction is needed for that, I bestow it upon him, and his cathedral, and his mills. Just see if those boobies will put themselves out. Move aside! I'd like to know what they're doing there. They are warming themselves, Much pleasure may it give them.

Starting point is 02:22:10 They are watching a hundred faggots burn. A fine spectacle. On looking more closely, he perceived that the circle was much larger than was required simply for the purpose of getting warm at the king's fire, and that this concourse of people had not been attracted solely by the beauty of the hundred fagots which were burning. In a vast space left free between the crowd and the fire, a young girl was dancing.

Starting point is 02:22:39 Whether this young girl was a human being, a fairy, or an angel, is what Gringwa, skeptical philosopher, and ironical poet that he was, could not decide at the first moment, so fascinated was he by this dazzling vision. She was not tall, though she seemed so, so boldly did her slender form dart about. She was swarthy of complexion, But one divine that by day her skin must possess that beautiful golden tone of the Andalusians and the Roman women. Her little foot too was Andalusian, for it was both pinched and at ease in its graceful shoe.

Starting point is 02:23:22 She danced, she turned, she whirled rapidly about on an old Persian rug, spread negligently under her feet, and each time that her radiant face passed before you, as she whirled, her great black eyes darted a flash of lightning at you. All around her, all glances were riveted, all mouths open, and in fact, when she danced thus, to the humming of the Basque tambourine, which her two pure, rounded arms raised above her head, slender, frail and vivacious as a wasp, with her corsage of gold without a fold, her variegated gown puffed out, her bare shoulders, her delicate limbs, which her petticoat revealed at times, her black hair, her eyes of flame, she was a supernatural creature.

Starting point is 02:24:13 In truth, said Gringua to himself, she is a salamander, she is a nymph, she is a goddess, she is a bacante of the Manilian mount. At that moment one of the salamander's braids of hair became unfastened, and a piece of yellow copper which was attached. to it rolled to the ground. "'A no,' said he, "'she is a gypsy!'

Starting point is 02:24:40 All illusions had disappeared. She began her dance once more. She took from the ground two swords, whose points she rested against her brow, and which she made to turn in one direction while she turned in the other. It was a purely gypsy effect. But, disenchanted, though Gringua was,

Starting point is 02:25:01 the whole effect of this picture was not without its charm and its magic. The bonfire illuminated with a red, flaring light which trembled all alive over the circle of faces in the crowd, on the brow of the young girl, and at the background of the place cast a pallid reflection, on one side of the ancient black and wrinkled facade of the house of pillars, on the other upon the old stone gibbet. Among the thousands of visages which that light tinged with scarlet, there was one which seemed, even more than all the others, absorbed in contemplation of the dancer.

Starting point is 02:25:40 It was the face of a man, austere, calm, and somber. This man, whose costume was concealed by the crowd which surrounded him, did not appear to be more than five and thirty years of age. Nevertheless, he was bald. He had merely a few tufts of thin gray hair on his temples. His broad, high forehead had begun to be furrowed with wrinkles, but his deep-set eyes sparkled with extraordinary youthfulness, an ardent life, a profound passion.

Starting point is 02:26:13 He kept them fixed incessantly on the gypsy, and while the giddy young girl of sixteen danced and whirled, for the pleasure of all, his reverie seemed to become more and more somber. From time to time a smile and a sigh met upon his lips, but the smile was more melancholy than the sigh. The young girl stopped at length, breathless, and the people applauded her lovingly.

Starting point is 02:26:42 Jolly, said the gypsy. Then Gringua saw come up to her a pretty little white goat, alert, wide-eyed, glossy with gilded horns, gilded hoofs, and gilded collar, which he had not hitherto perceived, and which had remained lying curled up on one corner of the carpet watching his mistress dance. Jali, said the dancer. It is your turn. And, seating herself, she gracefully presented her tambourine to the goat. Jolly, she continued, what month is this? The goat lifted in its forefoot and struck one blow upon the tambourine. It was the first month in the year, in fact. Jolly, pursued the young girl, turning her tambourine round. What day of the month is this? Jolly

Starting point is 02:27:35 raised his little gilt hoof and struck six blows on the tambourine. Jolly, pursued the Egyptian, with still another movement of the tambourine. What hour of the day is it? Jolly struck seven blows. At that moment, the clock of the pillar-house rang out seven. The people were amazed. "'There's sorcery at the bottom of it,' said a sinister voice in the crowd. It was that of the bald man who never removed his eyes from the gypsy. She shuddered and turned round, but applause broke forth and drowned the morose exclamation. It even effaced it so completely from her mind that she continued to question her goat. Jolly, what does Master Gueshard Grand Ramee, captain of the pistolleers of the town do at the procession of Candelmas?

Starting point is 02:28:34 Jolly reared himself on his hind legs and began to bleat, marching along with so much dainty gravity that the entire circle of spectators burst into a laugh at this parody of the interested devoutness of the captain of pistolleers. Jolly, resumed the young girl, emboldened by her growing success. How preaches Master Jacques Charméieu, procurator to the king in the ecclesiastical court? The goat seated himself on his hind quarters and began to bleat, waving his forefeet in so strange a manner, that, with the exception of the bad French, and worse Latin, Jacques Charmellieu was there complete, gesture, accent, and attitude.

Starting point is 02:29:23 And the crowd applauded louder than ever. Sacrilege! Profanation! resumed the voice of the bald man. The gypsy turned round once more. Ah, said she, tis that villainous man! Then, thrusting her under lip out beyond the upper, she made a little pout, which appeared to be familiar to her, executed a pirouette on her heel, and set about collecting in her tambourine the gifts of the multitude. Big blanks, little blanks, targes, and eagle-liards showered into it.

Starting point is 02:30:03 All at once she passed in front of Gringua. Gringua put his hands so recklessly into his pocket that she halted. "'The devil!' said the poet, finding at the bottom of his pocket the reality, that is to say, avoid. In the meantime, the pretty girl stood there, gazing at him with her big eyes, and holding out her tambourine to him and waiting. Gringwa broke into a violent perspiration. If he had all Peru in his pocket, he would certainly have given it to the dancer.

Starting point is 02:30:40 But Gringua had not Peru, and moreover, America had not. not yet been discovered. Happily, an unexpected incident came to his rescue. "'Will you take yourself off, you Egyptian grasshopper?' cried a sharp voice, which proceeded from the darkest corner of the place. The young girl turned round in a fright. It was no longer the voice of the bald man, it was the voice of a woman, bigoted and malicious. However, this cry, which alarmed the gypsy, delighted a troop of children who were prowling about there. "'It is the recluse of the Tour Roland,' they exclaimed with wild laughter.

Starting point is 02:31:25 "'It is the sacked nun who is scolding. "'Hasn't she supped? Let's carry her the remains of the city refreshments.' All rushed towards the pillar house. In the meantime, Gringua had taken advantage of the dam. answer's embarrassment to disappear. The children's shouts had reminded him that he also had not supped, so he ran to the public buffet. But the little rascals had better legs than he. When he arrived, they had stripped the table. There remained not so much as a miserable chemishon,

Starting point is 02:32:03 at five sous the pound. Nothing remained upon the wall but the slender fleur-de-le mingled with rose bushes, painted in 1434 by Meadow Bitterre. It was a meager supper. It is an unpleasant thing to go to bed without supper. It is a still less pleasant thing not to sup and not to know where one is to sleep. That was Gringua's condition. No supper, no shelter. He saw himself pressed on all sides by necessity, and he saw himself pressed on all sides by necessity, and he found necessity very crabbed. He had long ago discovered the truth that Jupiter created men during a fit of misanthropy,

Starting point is 02:32:49 and that during a wise man's whole life, his destiny holds his philosophy in a state of siege. As for himself, he had never seen the blockade so complete. He heard his stomach sounding a parley, and considered it very much out of place that evil destiny should capture his philosophy by famine. This melancholy reverie was absorbing him more and more when a song, quaint but full of sweetness, suddenly tore him from it.

Starting point is 02:33:23 It was the young gypsy who was singing. Her voice was like her dancing, like her beauty. It was indefinable and charming, something pure and sonorous, Ariel, winged, so to speak. There were continual outbursts, melodies, unexpected cadences, then simple phrases strewn with aerial and hissing notes, then floods of scales which would have put a nightingale to rout, but in which harmony was always present. Then soft modulations of octaves which rose and fell, like the bosom of the young singer.

Starting point is 02:34:02 Her beautiful face followed, with singular mobility. All the caprices of her song from the white. wildest inspiration to the chasteest dignity. One would have pronounced her, now a mad creature, now a queen. The words which she sang were in a tongue unknown to Gringua, and which seemed to him to be unknown to herself, so little relation did the expression which she imparted to her song bear to the sense of the words.

Starting point is 02:34:32 Thus these four lines in her mouth were madly gay. a coffre de grand requesa halaran d'enro a pillar, Dentro del Nuevas banderas, with figures de espantar. A coffer of great richness in a pillar's heart they found, within it lay new banners with figures to astound. And in an instant afterwards, at the accents which she imparted to this stanza,

Starting point is 02:35:05 Al-Arabes de cavallo, Sin Pauders menial, with espadas and los cuelos, ballastas domboen et char. Gringua felt the tears start to his eyes. Nevertheless, her song breathed joy most of all, and she seemed to sing like a bird from serenity and heedlessness.

Starting point is 02:35:31 The gypsy song had disturbed Gringua's reverie, as the swan disturbs the water. He listened in a sort of rapture and forgetfulness of everything. It was the first moment in the course of many hours when he did not feel that he suffered. The moment was brief. The same woman's voice,

Starting point is 02:35:53 which had interrupted the gypsy's dance, interrupted her song. "'Will you hold your tongue, you cricket of hell?' it cried, still from some obscure, corner of the plas. The poor cricket stopped short. Gringua covered up his ears. Oh, he exclaimed, a cursed saw with missing teeth, which comes to break the liar.

Starting point is 02:36:21 Meanwhile, the other spectators murmured like himself. To the devil with a sacked nun, said some of them. And the old invisible killjoy might have had occasion to repent of her aggressions against the Gypsy, had their attention not been diverted at this moment by the procession of the Pope of the Fools, which, after having traversed many streets and squares, debouched on the Plastagreb, with all its torches and all its uproar. This procession, which our readers have seen set out from the Palais de Justice, had organized on the way, and had been recruited by all the knaves, idle thieves, and unemployed vagabonds in

Starting point is 02:37:04 Paris, so that it presented a very respectable aspect when it arrived at the greve. First came Egypt. The Duke of Egypt headed it on horseback, with his counts on foot, holding his bridle and stirrups for him. Behind them, the male and female Egyptians, pell-mell with their little children crying on their shoulders. All, Duke, counts, and populace, in rags and tatters. Then came to him. the kingdom of Argoe, that is to say, all the thieves of France, arranged according to the order of their dignity, the minor people walking first. Thus defiled by fours, with the diverse insignia of their grades, in that strange faculty, most of them lame, some cripples,

Starting point is 02:37:56 others one-armed, shop clerks, pilgrims, boobins, boot-blacks, thimble-riggers, street arabs, beggars, the blear-eyed beggars, thieves, the weekly, vagabonds, merchants, sham soldiers, goldsmiths, past masters of pickpockets, isolated thieves. A catalogue that would weary Homer. In the center of the conclave of the past masters of pickpockets, one had some difficulty in distinguishing the King of Argo, the Grand Cuez, so-called, crouching in a little cart drawn by two big dogs. After the kingdom of the Argotiers came the Empire of Galilee.

Starting point is 02:38:41 Gayom Ressot, Emperor of the Empire of Galilee, marched majestically in his robe of purple, spotted with wine, preceded by buffoons wrestling and executing military dances, surrounded by his mace-bearers, his pickpockets, and clerks of the Chamber of Accounts. Last of all came the corporation of law clerks, with its may poles crowned with flowers, its black robes, its music worthy of the orgy, and its large candles of yellow wax. In the center of this crowd, the grand officers of the Brotherhood of fools

Starting point is 02:39:20 bore on their shoulders a litter more loaded down with candles than the reliquary of San Jean-Viev in the time of pest, and on this litter shone resplendent with Crozier, cope and mitre, the new Pope of the Fools, the bell-ringer of Notre Dame, Quasimodo, the hunchback. Each section of this grotesque procession had its own music. The Egyptians made their drums and African tambourines resound. The slangmen, not a very musical race, still clung to the goat's horn trumpet and the Gothic rubaby of the 12th century. The Empire of Galilee was not much more advanced. Among its music one could hardly distinguish some miserable rebeck,

Starting point is 02:40:10 from the infancy of the art still imprisoned in the Reh-Lamie. But it was around the Pope of the fools that all the musical riches of the epic were displayed in a magnificent discord. It was nothing but soprano rebeck's, counter-tenor rebecks and tenor rebecks, not to reckon the flutes and brass instruments. Alas, our readers will remember that this was Gringhua's orchestra. It is difficult to convey an idea of the degree of proud and blissful expansion to which the sad and hideous visage of Quasimodo had attained

Starting point is 02:40:49 during the transit from the Palace de Justice to the Place de Greve. It was the first enjoyment of self-love that he had ever experienced. Down to that day, he had known only humiliation, disdained for his condition, disgust for his person. Hence, deaf though he was, he enjoyed, like a veritable pope, the acclamations of that throng, which he hated because he felt that he was hated by it. What mattered it that his people consisted of a pack of fools, cripples, thieves, and beggars? It was still a people, and he was it sovereign. And he accepted seriously all this ironical applause, all this derisive respect,

Starting point is 02:41:39 with which the crowd mingled, it must be admitted, a good deal of very real fear. For the hunchback was robust, for the bandy-legged fellow was agile. for the deaf man was malicious, three qualities which temper ridicule. We are far from believing, however, that the new Pope of the fools understood both the sentiments which he felt and the sentiments which he inspired. The spirit which was lodged in this failure of a body had necessarily something incomplete and deaf about it. Thus what he felt at the moment was to him absolutely vague, indistinct and confused. Only joy made itself felt, only pride dominated. Around that somber and unhappy

Starting point is 02:42:30 face there hung a radiance. It was then, not without surprise and alarm, that at the very moment when Quasimodo was passing the pillar-house, in that semi-intoxicated state, a man was seen to dart from the crowd, and to tear from his hands with a jessingestered. of anger, his crozier of gilded wood, the emblem of his mock popship. This man, this rash individual, was the man with the bald brow, who, a moment earlier, standing with the gypsy's group, had chilled the poor girl with his words of menace and hatred. He was dressed in an ecclesiastical costume. At the moment when he stood forth from the crowd, Gringua, who had not noticed him up to that time, recognized him.

Starting point is 02:43:23 "'Hold, he said, with an exclamation of astonishment. "'Eh, tis my master in Amé, Dom Claude Frollo, the archdeacon. What the devil does he want with that old one-eyed fellow? He'll get himself devoured!' A cry of terror arose, in fact. The formidable Quasimodo had hurled himself from the litter, and the women turned aside their eyes in order not to see him tear the archdeacon asunder. He made one bound as far as the priest, looked at him, and fell upon his knees.

Starting point is 02:44:00 The priest tore off his tiara, broke his crozier, and rent his tinsel cope. Quasimodo remained on his knees, with head bent and hands clasped. Then there was established between them a strange dialogue of signs and gestures, for neither of them spoke. The priest, erect on his feet, irritated, threatening, imperious. Quasimodo, prostrate, humble, suppliant. And nevertheless, it was certain that Quasimodo could have crushed the priest with his thumb. At length, the archdeacon, giving Quasimodo's powerful shoulder a rough shake, made him assign to rise and follow him. Quasimodo rose. Then, the Brotherhood of Fools, their first stupor having passed off, wished to defend their

Starting point is 02:44:54 Pope, so abruptly dethroned. The Egyptians, the men of slang, and all the fraternity of law clerks gathered howling round the priest. Quasimodo placed himself in front of the priest, set in play the muscles of his athletic fists, and glared upon the assailants with a snarl of an angry tiger. The priest resumed his somber gravity, made a sign to Quasimodo, and retired in silence. Quasimodo walked in front of him, scattering the crowd as he passed.

Starting point is 02:45:29 When they had traversed the populace and the place, the cloud of curious and idle were minded to follow them. Quasimodo then constituted himself the rear guard and followed the archdeacon walking backwards, squat, surly, monstrous, bristling, gathering up his limbs, licking his boar's tusks, growling like a wild beast, and imparting to the crowd immense vibrations with a look or a gesture. Both were allowed to plunge into a dark and narrow street where no one dared to venture after them. So thoroughly did the mere Camero of Quasimodo gnashing his teeth bar the entrance.

Starting point is 02:46:13 "'Here's a marvelous thing,' said Gringua. "'But where the deuce shall I find some supper?' "'End of Chapter 3. Book 2nd, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Book 2nd, Chapter 4. The inconveniences of following a pretty woman through the streets in the evening. Gringua set out to follow the gypsy at all hazards.

Starting point is 02:46:53 He had seen her, accompanied by her goat, take to the rue de la cutelerie. He took the rue de la cutelerie. Why not, he said to himself. Gringua, a practical philosopher of the streets of Paris, had noticed that nothing is more propitious to reverie than following a pretty woman without knowing whither she is going. There was, in this voluntary abdication of his free will, in this fancy submitting itself to another fancy, which suspects it not, a mixture of fantastic independence and blind obedience, something indescribable, intermediate between slavery and liberty, which pleased Gringua.

Starting point is 02:47:39 A spirit essentially compound, undecided, and complex, holding the extremities of of all extremes, incessantly suspended between all human propensities, and neutralizing one by the other. He was fond of comparing himself to Mahomet's coffin, attracted in two different directions by two lodestones, and hesitating eternally between the heights and the depths, between the vaults and the pavement, between fall and ascent, between zenith and nadir. If Gringua had lived in our day, what a fine middle course he would hold between classicism and romanticism. But he was not sufficiently primitive to live three hundred years, and tis a pity. His absence is a void, which is but too sensibly felt today.

Starting point is 02:48:34 Moreover, for the purpose of this following passers-by, and especially female passers-by in the streets, which Gringua was fond of doing, there is no better disposition than ignorance of where one is going to sleep. So he walked along, very thoughtfully, behind the young girl, who hastened her pace and made her goat trot as she saw the bourgeois returning home, and the taverns, the only shops which had been open that day, closing. After all, he half thought to himself, she must lodge somewhere. Gypsies have kindly hearts. Who knows? And in the points of suspense which he placed, after this reticence in his mind, there lay, I know not what, flattering ideas. Meanwhile, from time to time, as he passed the last groups of bourgeois closing their doors,

Starting point is 02:49:30 he caught some scraps of their conversation, which broke the thread of his pleasant hypotheses. Now it was two old men accosting each other. "'Do you know that it is cold, Master Thibaut Ferneclay?' Gringwa had been aware of this since the beginning of the winter. "'Yes, indeed, Master Bonifest Desomé. Are we going to have a winter such as we had three years ago, in eighty, when wood cost eight sous the measure? "'Bah, that's nothing, Master Thibaut,

Starting point is 02:50:05 "'compaid with the winter of fourteen o seven, "'when it froze from St. Martin's day until candle-mast, and so cold that the pen of the registrar of the Parliament froze every three words in the Grand Chamber, which interrupted the registration of justice. Further on, there were two female neighbours at their windows, holding candles, which the fog caused to sputter. "'Has your husband told you about the mishap, Mademoiselle la Baudrach?' "'No, what is it, Mademoiselle Terquins?'

Starting point is 02:50:40 The horse of Monsieur Gilles-Gaudin, the notary of the Chattelet, took fright at the Fleming's in their procession, and overturned Master Philippe Evrelloe, Le Monk of the Celestines. Really? Actually! A bourgeois horse! Tis rather too much! If it had been a cavalry horse, well and good! And the windows were closed, but Gringua had lost the thread of his ideas nevertheless.

Starting point is 02:51:10 Fortunately, he speedily found it again, and he nodded it together without difficulty, thanks to the gypsy, thanks to Jolly, who still walked in front of him. Two fine, delicate, and charming creatures, whose tiny feet, beautiful forms, and graceful manners he was engaged in admiring, almost confusing them in his contemplation, believing them to be both young girls, from their intelligent, and good friendship, regarding them both as goats, so far as the lightness, agility, and dexterity of their walk were concerned. But the streets were becoming blacker and more deserted every moment. The curfew had sounded long ago, and it was only at rare intervals

Starting point is 02:51:59 now that the encountered a passer-by in the street, or a light in the windows. Gringwa had become involved in his pursuit of the gypsy, in that inextricable land. labyrinth of alleys, squares, and closed courts, which surround the ancient sepulchre of the Saint Innocence, and which resembles a ball of thread tangled by a cat. "'Here are streets which possess but little logic,' said Gringway, lost in the thousands of circuits which returned upon themselves incessantly, but where the young girl pursued a road which seemed familiar to her, without hesitation, and with a step which became ever more rapid. As for him, he would have been utterly ignorant of his situation had he not espied,

Starting point is 02:52:46 in passing, at the turn of a street, the octagonal mass of the pillory of the fish markets, the open-work summit of which, through its black, fretted outlines, clearly upon a window, which was still lighted in the rue Verdele. The young girl's attention had been attracted to him for the last few moments. She had repeatedly turned her head towards him with uneasiness. She had even once come to a standstill, and taking advantage of a ray of light which escaped from a half-open bakery, to survey him intently from head to foot. Then, having cast this glance, Gringua had seen her make that little pout which he had already noticed, after which she passed on. This little pout had furnished Gringua with food for thought. There was certainly both

Starting point is 02:53:37 disdain and mockery in that graceful grimace. So he dropped his head, began to count the paving-stones, and to follow the young girl at a little greater distance, when, at the turn of a street which had caused him to lose sight of her, he heard her utter a piercing cry. He hastened his steps. The street was full of shadows. Nevertheless, a twist of tow soaked in oil which burned in a cage at the feet of the feet of feet of the Holy Virgin at the street corner, permitted Gringua to make out the gypsy struggling

Starting point is 02:54:12 in the arms of two men, who were endeavoring to stifle her cries. The poor little goat, in great alarm, lowered his horns and bleated. "'Help! Gentlemen of the watch!' shouted Gringua, and advanced bravely. One of the men who held the young girl turned towards him. It was the formidable visage of Quasimodo. Gringua did not take him. take to flight, but neither did he advance another step. Quasimodo came up to him, tossed him four paces away on the pavement, with a backward turn of the hand, and plunged rapidly into the gloom, bearing the young girl folded across one arm like a silken scarf. His companion followed him, and the poor goat ran after them all, bleeding plaintively.

Starting point is 02:55:02 "'Murder! Murder!' shrieked the unhappy gypsy. "'Halt, rascals, and yield me that wench!' suddenly shouted in a voice of thunder, a cavalier who appeared suddenly from a neighboring square. It was a captain of the king's archers, armed from head to foot, with his sword in his hand. He tore the gypsy from the arms of the dazed Quasimoto, threw her across his saddle, and at the moment when the terrible hunchback, recovering from his surprise, rushed upon him to regain his prey, fifteen or sixteen archers, who followed their captain closely, made their appearance, with their two-edged swords in their fists. It was a squad of the king's police, which was making the rounds by order of

Starting point is 02:55:50 Monsieur Robert d'estovie, guard of the provost ship of Paris. Quasimoto was surrounded, seized, garrotted. He roared, he foamed at the mouth, he bit, and had it been broad daylight, there is no doubt that his face alone, rendered more hideous by wrath, would have put the entire squad to flight, but by night he was deprived of his most formidable weapon, his ugliness. His companion had disappeared during the struggle. The gypsy gracefully raised herself upright upon the officer's saddle, placed both hands upon the young man's shoulders, and gazed fixedly at him for several seconds, as though enchanted with his good looks and with the aid which he had just rendered

Starting point is 02:56:38 her. Then, breaking silence first, she said to him, making her sweet voice still sweeter than usual, "'What is your name, Monsieur de Gendarme?' "'Captain Fibus de Chateau-Pay, at your service, my beauty,' replied the officer, drawing himself up. "'Thanks,' said she. And while Captain Phoebus was turning up his mustache in Burgundian fashion, she slipped from the horse, like an arrow falling to earth and fled. A flash of lightning would have vanished less quickly.

Starting point is 02:57:16 "'Nambriel of the Pope,' said the captain, causing Quasimodo straps to be drawn tighter, "'I should have preferred to keep the wench.' "'What would you have, Captain?' said one gendarme. warbler has fled, and the bat remains. End of Chapter 4. Book 2nd, Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 5.

Starting point is 02:57:57 Results of the dangers. Gringua, thoroughly stunned by his fall, remained on the pavement in front of the Holy Virgin at the street corner. Little by little he regained his senses. At first, for several minutes, he was floating in a sort of half-somnalant reverie, which was not without its charm, in which aerial figures of the gypsy and her goat were coupled with Quasimoto's heavy fist. This state lasted but a short time. A decidedly vivid sensation of cold in the part of his body which was in contact with the pavement suddenly

Starting point is 02:58:34 aroused him and caused his spirit to return to the surface. "'Wince comes this chill,' he said abruptly to himself. He then perceived that he was lying half in the middle of the gutter. "'That devil of a hunch-backed cyclops!' he muttered between his teeth, and he tried to rise. But he was too dazed and bruised. He was forced to remain where he was. Moreover, his hand was tolerably free. He stopped his nose and resigned himself.

Starting point is 02:59:06 The mud of Paris, he said to himself, for decidedly he thought that he was sure that the gutter would prove his refuge for the night. And what can one do in a refuge except dream? The mud of Paris is particularly stinking. It must contain a great deal of volatile and nitric salts. That, moreover, is the opinion of Master Nicholas Flamele and of the alchemists. The word alchemists suddenly suggested to his mind the idea of Archdeacon Claude Frollo. He recalled the violent scene which he had just witnessed in part, that the gypsy was struggling with two men, that Quasimodo had a companion, and the morose and haughty face of the archdeacon passed confusedly through his memory.

Starting point is 02:59:57 "'That would be strange,' he said to himself, and on that fact and that basis he began to construct a fantastic edifice of the hypothesis, that hard castle of philosophers, then suddenly returning once more to reality, come, I'm freezing, he ejaculated. The place was, in fact, becoming less and less tenable. Each molecule of the gutter bore away a molecule of heat radiating from Gringwa's loins, and the equilibrium between the temperature of his body and the temperature of the brook began to be established in rough fashion. Quite a different annoyance suddenly assailed him. A group of children, those little barefooted savages who have always roamed the pavements of Paris under the

Starting point is 03:00:45 eternal name of Gamines, and who, when we were also children ourselves, threw stones at all of us in the afternoon when we came out of school, because our trousers were not torn, a swarm of these young scamps rushed towards the square where Gringwa lay, with shouts and laughter, which seemed to pay but little heed to the sleep of the neighbors. They were dragging after them some sort of hideous sack, and the noise of their wooden shoes alone would have roused the dead. Gringua, who was not quite dead yet, half raised himself. "'Away! Anok-in down the she! Away, Jehan Panseabud!' they shouted in deafening tones. "'Old Eustache Mobon! The merchant at the corner has just died! We've got his straw pallet. We're

Starting point is 03:01:36 going to have a bonfire out of it. It's the turn of the Flemish to-day!' And behold, they flung the pallet directly upon Gringua, beside whom they had arrived without espying him. At the same time, one of them took a handful of straw and set off to light it with the wick of the good Virgin. "'Sdeath!' growled Gringua. "'Am I going to be too warm now?' It was a critical moment. He was caught between fire and water.

Starting point is 03:02:05 He made a superhuman effort, the effort of a counterfeiter of money who was on the point of being boiled and who seeks to escape. He rose to his feet, flung aside the straw pallet upon the street urchins, and fled. "'Holy Virgin!' shrieked the children. "'Tis the merchant's ghost!' And they fled in their turn. The straw mattress remained master of the field. Belfore, Father Leugee, and Carozet affirm

Starting point is 03:02:37 that it was picked up on the morrow, with great pomp, by the clergy of the quarter and borne to the treasury of the Church of Saint-Apartoon, where the Sechristin, even as late as 1789, earned a tolerably handsome revenue out of the great miracle of the staff, of the Virgin at the corner of the Rue Maconcée, which had, by its mere presence, on the memorable night between the 6th and 7th of January 1482, exercised the defunct Yustache Moba, who, in order to play a trick on the devil, had, at his death, maliciously concealed his soul in the straw palate.

Starting point is 03:03:16 End of Chapter 5. Book 2nd Chapter 6 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Ugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 2nd, Chapter 6. The Broken Jug. After having run for some time at the top of his speed, without knowing whither, knocking his head against many a street corner, leaping many a gutter, traversing many an alley, many a court, many a square, seeking flight and passage,

Starting point is 03:03:57 through all the meandrings of the ancient passages of the all, exploring in his panic terror what the fine Latin of the maps calls Thotavia, Chaminum et Viaria. Our poet suddenly halted for lack of breath in the first place, and in the second, because he had been collared after a fashion, by a dilemma which had just occurred to his mind. "'It strikes me, Master Pierre Gringua,' he said to himself, placing his finger to his brow,

Starting point is 03:04:27 "'that you are running like a madman. The little scamps are no less afraid of you than you are of them. It strikes me, I say, that you heard the clatter of their wooden shoes fleeing southward, while you were fleeing northward. Now one of two things. Either they have taken flight, and the pallet, which they must have forgotten in their terror, is precisely that hospitable bed in search of which you have been running ever since morning, and which Madame the Virgin miraculously sends you in order to recognize.

Starting point is 03:05:00 compense you for having made a morality in her honor, accompanied by triumphs and mummeries, or the children have not taken flight, and in that case they have put the brand to the palate, and that is precisely the good fire which you need to cheer, dry, and warm you. In either case, good fire or good bed, that straw pallet is a gift from heaven. The blessed Virgin Marie, who stands at the corner of the Rue Moconsei, could only have made Eustache Mobin die for that express purpose. And it is folly on your part to flee thus zigzag, like a Picard before a Frenchman, leaving behind you what you seek before you, and you are a fool.

Starting point is 03:05:47 Then he retraced his steps, and feeling his way and searching, with his nose to the wind and his ears on the alert, he tried to find the blessed pallet again, but in vain. There was nothing to be found but intersections of houses, closed courts, and crossings of streets, in the midst of which he hesitated and doubted incessantly, being more perplexed and entangled in this medley of streets than he would have been even in the labyrinth of the Hotel de Tournelle. At length he lost patience, and exclaimed solemnly, "'Cursed be crossroads! Tis the devil who has made them in the shape of his pitchfork!'

Starting point is 03:06:27 This exclamation afforded him a little solace, and a sort of reddish reflection which he caught sight of at that moment, at the extremity of a long and narrow lane, completed the elevation of his moral tone. "'God be praised,' said he, "'there it is yonder! There is my palate burning!' and comparing himself to the pilot who suffers shipwreck by night. "'Salve!' he added piously. Marie Stella! Did he address this fragment of litany to the Holy Virgin, or to the palate? We are utterly unable to say. He had taken but a few steps in the long street, which sloped downwards, was unpaved, and more and more muddy and steep, when he noticed a very singular thing.

Starting point is 03:07:18 It was not deserted. Here and there along its extent crawled certain vague and formless masses, all directing their course towards the light which flickered at the end of the street, like those heavy insects which drag along by night, from blade to blade of grass, towards the shepherd's fire. Nothing renders one so adventurous as not being able to feel the place where one's pocket is situated. Gringwa continued to advance, and had soon joined that one of the forms which dragged along most indolately behind the others. On drawing near, he perceived that it was a little bit of the forms, and had soon joined that was nothing else than a wretched, legless cripple in a bowl, who was hopping along on his two

Starting point is 03:08:02 hands, like a wounded field spider, which has but two legs left. At the moment when he passed close to this species of spider with a human countenance, it raised towards him a lamentable voice. "'La buonamancia, signor! La Buona mancia!' "'Deuce take you,' said Gringua, "'and me with you, if I know what you mean.' and he passed on. He overtook another of these itinerant masses and examined it. It was an impudent man, both halt and crippled, and halt and crippled to such a degree that the complicated system of crutches and wooden legs which sustained him gave him the air of a mason scaffolding on the march. Gringua, who liked noble and classical comparisons, compared him in

Starting point is 03:08:53 thought to the living tripod of Vulcan. This living tripod saluted him as he passed, but stopping his hat on a level with Gringua's chin like a shaving dish, while he shouted in the latter's ears, "'Signor caballero, para compra a p'pard a p'-depin!' "'It appears,' said Gringua, "'that this one can also talk, but is a rude language, and he is more fortunate than I if he understands it. Then, smiting his brow in a sudden transition of ideas, "'By the way, what the deuce did they mean this morning with their as Meralda?'

Starting point is 03:09:34 He was minded to augment his pace, but for the third time something barred his way. This something, or rather someone, was a blind man, a little blind fellow with a bearded Jewish face, who, rowing away in the space about him with a stick and towed by a large dog, droned through his nose with a Hungarian accent, "'Fesitote caritotum!' "'Well now,' said Gringua, "'here's one at last who speaks a Christian tongue. I must have a very charitable aspect, since they ask alms of me in the present lean condition

Starting point is 03:10:14 of my purse.' My friend, and he turned towards the blind man, I sold my last shirt last week, that is to say, since you understand only the language of Cicero, Vindidi, Hebdomade no per transita, meam, ultimum, chemisan. That said, he turned his back upon the blind man, and pursued his way. But the blind man began to increase his stride at the same time, and behold, the cripple and the legless man,

Starting point is 03:10:46 in his bowl, came up on their side in great haste, and with great clamor of bowl and crutches upon the pavement. Then all three, jostling each other at poor Gringua's heels, began to sing their song to him. "'Caritatum!' chanted the blind man. "'Lebonomancia!' chanted the cripple in the bowl, and the lame man took up the musical phrase by repeating, "'An patasso de Pern!' Gringua stopped up his ears. "'Oh, Tower of Babel!' he exclaimed. He set out to run. The blind man ran, the lame man ran, the cripple in the bowl ran.

Starting point is 03:11:27 And then, in proportion as he plunged deeper into the street, cripples and bulls, blind men and lame men swarmed about him, and men with one arm and with one eye, and the lepris with their sores, some emerging from little streets adjacent, some from the air-holes of cellars, howling, bellowing, yelping, all limping and halting, all flinging themselves towards the light, and humped up in the mire like snails after a shower. Gringua, still followed by his three persecutors, and not knowing very well what was to become of him, marched along in terror among them, turning out for the lame, stepping over the cripples and bowls, with his feet embedded in

Starting point is 03:12:10 that ant-hill of lame men, like the English captain who got caught. in the quicksand of a swarm of crabs. The idea occurred to him of making every effort to retrace his steps, but it was too late. This whole legion had closed in behind him, and his three beggars held him fast. So he proceeded, impelled both by this irresistible flood, by fear, and by a vertigo which converted all this into a sort of horrible dream. At last he reached the end of the street. It opened upon an immense place, where a thousand scattered lights flickered in the confused mists of night. Granguwa flew thither, hoping to escape, by the swiftness of his legs from the three infirm specters who had clutched him.

Starting point is 03:13:03 "'Onde vass, ombre! Where are you going, my man?' cried the cripple, flinging away his crutches, and running after him, with the best legs that ever traced a geometrical step upon the pavements of Paris. In the meantime, the legless man, erect upon his feet, crowned Gringua with his heavy iron bowl, and the blind man glared in his face with flaming eyes. "'Where am I?' said the terrified poet. "'In the court of miracles,' replied a fourth specter, who had accosted them. "'Upon my soul,' resumed Gringua, "'I certainly do behold the blind who see and the lame who walk, But where is the Savior?'

Starting point is 03:13:48 They replied by a burst of sinister laughter. The poor poet cast his eyes about him. It was, in truth, that redoubtable cure de miracles, whither an honest man had never penetrated at such an hour. The magic circle, where the officers of the Chatelle and the sergeants of the provostship, who ventured thither, disappeared in morsels. A city of thieves, a hideous, wart on the face of Paris, a sewer from which escaped every morning and whither returned every

Starting point is 03:14:25 night to crouch that stream of vices of mendicancy and vagabondage which always overflows in the streets of capitals. A monstrous hive to which returned at nightfall with their booty all the drones of the social order, a lying hospital where the bohemian, the disfrocked monk, the ruined scholar, the near-do-wells of all nations, Spaniards, Italians, Germans, of all religions, Jews, Christians, Mohammedans, idolaters, covered with painted sores, beggars by day, were transformed by night into brigands. An immense dressing-room in a word, where, at that epic, the actors of that eternal comedy

Starting point is 03:15:10 which theft, prostitution, and murder play upon the pavements of Paris, dressed and undressed. It was a vast place, irregular and badly paved, like all the squares of Paris at that date. Fires, around which swarmed strange groups, blazed here and there. Everyone was going, coming, and shouting. Shrill laughter was to be heard, the wailing of children, the voices of women. The hands and heads of this throng, black against the luminous background, outlined against it a thousand eccentric gestures. At times, upon the ground, where trembled the light of the fires, mingled with large, indefinite

Starting point is 03:15:54 shadows, one could behold a dog passing, which resembled a man, a man who resembled a dog. The limits of races and species seemed effaced in this city as in a pandemonium. Men, women, beasts, age, sex, health, maladies, all seemed to be in common among these people. All went together. They mingled, confounded, superposed. Each one there participated in all. The poor and flickering flames of the fire permitted Gringwa to distinguish, amid his trouble, all around the immense place, a hideous frame of ancient houses,

Starting point is 03:16:32 whose worm-eaten, shrivelled, stunted facades, each pierced with one or two lighted attic windows, seemed to him, in the darkness, like enormous heads of old women, ranged in a circle, monstrous and crabbed, winking as they looked on the witch's sabbath it was like a new world unknown unheard-of misshapen creeping swarming fantastic gringwa more and more terrified clutched by the three beggars as by three pairs of tongs dazed by a throng of other faces which frothed and yelped around him unhappy gringua endeavored to summon his presence of mind in order to recall whether it was a saturday But his efforts were in vain. The thread of his memory and of his thought was broken, and, doubting everything, wavering between what he saw and what he felt, he put to himself this unanswerable question.

Starting point is 03:17:30 "'If I exist, does this exist? If this exists, do I exist?' At that moment a distinct cry arose in the buzzing throng which surrounded him. "'Let's take him to the king! Let's take him! him to the king!" Holy Virgin! murmured Gringwa. The king here must be a ram. To the king!

Starting point is 03:17:53 To the king! repeated all the voices. They dragged him off, each vied with the other in laying his claws upon him. But the three beggars did not loose their hold and tore him from the rest, howling, He belongs to us! The poets already sickly doublet yielded its last sigh in this struggle. While traversing the horrible place, his vertigo vanished. After taking a few steps, the sentiment of reality returned to him. He began to

Starting point is 03:18:22 become accustomed to the atmosphere of the place. At the first moment there had arisen from his poet's head, or simply and prosaically from his empty stomach, a mist of vapor, so to speak, which, spreading between objects and himself, permitted him to catch a glimpse of them only in the incoherent fog of nightmare, in those shadows of dreams which distort every outline, agglomerating objects into unwieldy groups, dilating things into chimeras and men into phantoms. Little by little, this hallucination was succeeded by a less bewildered and exaggerating view. Reality made its way to the light around him, struck his eyes, struck his feet, and demolished bit by bit all that frightful poetry with which he had at first believed himself to be surrounded.

Starting point is 03:19:15 He was forced to perceive that he was not walking in the sticks, but in mud, that he was elbowed not by demons, but by thieves, that it was not his soul which was in question, but his life, since he lacked that precious conciliator which places itself so effectually between the bandit and the honest man, a purse. In short, on examining the orgy more closely, and with more coolness, he fell from the witch's Sabbath to the dram shop. The Cour de Miracles was, in fact, merely a dram shop, but a Briggins' dram shop,

Starting point is 03:19:53 reddened quite as much with blood as with wine. The spectacle which presented itself to his eyes, when his ragged escort finally deposited him at the end of his trip, was not fitted to bear it. him back to poetry, even to the poetry of hell. It was more than ever the prosaic and brutal reality of the tavern. Were we not in the 15th century, we would say that Gringua had descended from Michelangelo to Calais. Around a great fire which burned on a large circular flagstone, the flames of which had heated red-hot the legs of a tripod, which was empty for the moment, some worm-eaten tables were placed here and there.

Starting point is 03:20:37 there, haphazard, no lackey of a geometrical turn having deigned to adjust their parallelism, or to see to it that they did not make too unusual angles. Upon these tables gleamed several dripping pots of wine and beer, and around these pots were grouped many Bacic visages, purple with the fire and the wine. There was a man with a huge belly and a jovial face, noisily kissing a woman of the town, thick set and brawny. There was a sort of sham soldier, a Nacquah, as the slang expression runs, who was whistling as he undid the bandages from his fictitious wound, and removing the numbness from his sound and vigorous knee, which had been swathed since morning in a thousand ligatures.

Starting point is 03:21:24 On the other hand, there was a wretched fellow, preparing with Celendine and Beef's blood his leg of God for the next day. Two tables further on, a palmer, with his pilgrim's costume. complete was practicing the lament of the Holy Queen, not forgetting the drone and the nasal drawl. Further on, a young scamp was taking a lesson in epilepsy from an old pretender, who is instructing him in the art of foaming at the mouth by chewing a morsel of soap. Beside him, a man with the dropsy was getting rid of his swelling, and making four or five

Starting point is 03:22:02 female thieves, who were disputing at the same table over a child. who had been stolen that evening, hold their noses. All circumstances which, two centuries later, seemed so ridiculous to the court, as Soval says, that they served as a pastime to the king, and as an introduction to the royal ballet of night, divided into four parts and danced on the theatre of the Petit Bourbon. Never, as an eyewitness of 1653,

Starting point is 03:22:35 have the sudden metamorphosis, the Seas of the Court of Miracles been more happily presented. Ben Sarad prepared us for it by some very gallant verses. Loud laughter everywhere and obscene songs. Each one held his own course, carping and swearing without listening to his neighbor. Pots clinked and quarrel sprang up at the shock of the pots, and the broken pots made rinse in the rags. A big dog, seated on his tail, gazed at the fire.

Starting point is 03:23:06 There. Some children were mingled in this orgy. The stolen child wept and cried, another, a big boy four years of age, seated with legs dangling upon a bench that was too high for him, before a table that reached to his chin was uttering not a word. A third, gravely spreading out upon the table with his finger the melted tallow which dripped from a candle. Last of all, a little fellow crouching in the mud, almost lost in a cauldron which he

Starting point is 03:23:36 was scraping with a tile, and from which he was evoking a sound that would have made Stradivarius swoon. Near the fire was a hogshead, and on the hogshead a beggar. This was the king on his throne. The three who had Gringua in their clutches led him in front of this hogshead, and the entire Bacchanal route fell silent for a moment, with the exception of the cauldron inhabited by the child. Gringua dared neither breathe nor raise his eyes. "'Ombre, quita your sombrero!' said one of the three knaves, in whose grasp he was, and before he had comprehended the meaning the other had snatched his hat, a wretched headgear, it is true,

Starting point is 03:24:20 but still good on a sunny day or when there was but little rain. Gringwa sighed. Meanwhile the king addressed him from the summit of his cask. "'Who is this rogue?' Gringua shuddered. That voice, although accentuated by menace, recall to him another voice, which that very morning had dealt the death-blow to his mystery, by drawing nasally in the midst of the audience, "'Charity! Please!' he raised his head. It was indeed Clopin Trifaut. Clopin Trifoe, a raid in his royal insignia, wore neither one rag more nor one

Starting point is 03:25:04 one rag less. The sore upon his arm had already disappeared. He held in his hand one of those whips made of thongs of white leather, which police sergeants then used to repress the crowd, and which were called boyés. On his head he wore a sort of headgear, bound round and closed at the top. But it was difficult to make out whether it was a child's cap or a king's crown, the two things bore so strong a resemblance to each other. Meanwhile Gringua, without knowing why, had regained some hope, on recognizing in the king of the Coeur de Miracles his accursed mendicant of the Grand Hall. "'Master,' stammered he, "'Monseigneur! Seer! How ought I to address you?' he said at length,

Starting point is 03:25:55 having reached the culminating point of his crescendo, and knowing neither how to mount higher nor to descend again. Monseigneur, His Majesty, or comrade, call me what you please, but make haste, what have you to say in your own defense. In your own defense, thought Gringua, that displeases me. He resumed, stuttering, I am he who, this morning, by the devil's claws, interrupted Clopin. Your name, knave, and nothing more. Listen, you are in the presence of three powerful sovereigns.

Starting point is 03:26:37 Myself, Clopin Trefo, king of Tuné, successor to the Grand Cuis, supreme Cusorin of the realm of Argo. Matthias Huniades Pekali, Duke of Egypt and of Bohemia, the old yellow fellow whom you see yonder with a dish clout round his head. Gaiom Resol, Emperor of Galilee, that fat fellow who is not not listening to us, but caressing a wench. We are your judges. You have entered the kingdom of Argo, without being an Argotir. You have violated the privileges of our city. You must be punished unless you're a Capon, a Frank, Mito, or Irifo, that is to say, in the slang of honest

Starting point is 03:27:23 folks, a thief, a beggar, or a vagabond. Are you anything of that sort? Justify yourself. "'Announce your titles!' "'Alas,' said Gringua, "'I have not that honour. "'I am the author. "'That is sufficient,' resumed Trefo, "'without permitting him to finish. "'You are going to be hanged.

Starting point is 03:27:49 "'Tis a very simple matter. "'Gentlemen, an honest bourgeois, "'as you treat our people in your abode, "'so we treat you in ours. "'The law which you apply to vagabonds, "'vagabonds apply to vagabonds, to you. Tis your fault if it is harsh. One really must behold the grimace of an honest man above the hemp and collar now and then. That renders the thing honorable. Come, friend, divide your

Starting point is 03:28:14 rags gaily among these damsels. I am going to have you hanged to amuse the vagabonds, and you are to give them your purse to drink your health. If you have any mummery to go through with, there's a very good God the father in that mortar yonder in stu-a-old. stone, which we stole from the Saint-Pierre-O-Bouffs. You have four minutes in which to fling your soul at his head. The harangue was formidable. Well said, upon my soul, Clopin-tree foe preaches like the Holy Father, the Pope, exclaimed the Emperor of Galilee, smashing his pot in order to prop up his table. Monseigneurs, emperors, and kings, said Gringhua Cooley,

Starting point is 03:29:01 For I know not how, firmness had returned to him, and he spoke with resolution. "'Don't think of such a thing. My name is Pierre Gringua. I am the poet whose morality was presented this morning in the grand hall of the courts.' "'Ah, so it was you, master,' said Clopin. "'I was there, set de'you. Well, comrade, is that any reason because you bored us to death this morning? that you should not be hung this evening?' "'I shall find difficulty in getting out of it,' said Gringwa to himself. Nevertheless, he made one more effort.

Starting point is 03:29:43 "'I don't see why poets are not classed with vagabonds,' said he. "'Vagabond. Isopas certainly was. Homeris was a beggar. Mercurius was a thief.' Clopin interrupted him. "'I believe that you are trying to blarney us with your your jargon. Zounds! Let yourself be hung! And don't kick up such a row over it!'

Starting point is 03:30:08 "'Pardon me, Monseigneur, the King of Tunei,' replied Gringua, 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.' His unlucky voice was, in fact, drowned in the uproar which rose around him. The little boy scraped away at his cauldron with more spirit than ever. and to crown all an old woman had just placed on the tripod a frying-pan of grease which hissed away on the fire with a noise similar to the cry of a troop of children in pursuit of a massacre In the meantime, Clopan-Tree-Foe appear to hold a momentary conference with the Duke of Egypt and the Emperor of Galilee, who was completely drunk. Then he shouted shrilly,

Starting point is 03:30:58 Silence! And as the cauldron and the frying-pan did not heed him, and continued their duet, he jumped down from his hogshead and gave a kick to the boiler, which rolled ten paces away bearing the child with it, a kick to the frying-pan which upset in the fire with all its grease and gravely remounted his throne, without troubling himself about the stifled tears of the child or the grumbling of the old woman, whose supper was wasting away in a fine white flame. Trefo made a sign, and the Duke, the Emperor, and the past masters of pickpockets and

Starting point is 03:31:32 the isolated robbers came and ranged themselves around him in a horseshoe, of which Gringua, still roughly held by the body, formed the center. It was a semicircle of rags, tatters, tinsel, pitchforks, axes, legs staggering with intoxication, huge, bare arms, faces, sordid, dull and stupid. In the midst of this round table of beggary, Clopin Trifot, as the doge of this senate, as the king of this peerage, as the pope of this conclave, dominated. First, by virtue of the height of his heart, hogshead, and next by virtue of an indescribable haughty, fierce, and formidable air, which caused his eyes to flash, and corrected in his savage profile the bestial type of the

Starting point is 03:32:20 race of vagabonds. One would have pronounced him a boar amid a herd of swine. "'Listen,' said he to Gringual, fondling his misshapen chin with his horny hand, "'I don't see why you should not be hung. It is true. that it appears to be repugnant to you. And it is very natural, for you bourgeois are not accustomed to it. You form for yourselves a great idea of the thing. After all, we don't wish you any harm. Here is a means of extricating yourself from your predicament for the moment. Will you become one of us? The reader can judge of the effect which this proposition produced upon Gringua, who beheld life slipping away from him, and who was beginning to lose his hold upon it. He clutched it again

Starting point is 03:33:13 with energy. "'Certainly I will, and right-heartedly,' said he. "'Do you consent?' resumed Clopin, "'to enroll yourself among the people of the knife?' "'Of the knife, precisely,' responded Gringua. "'You recognize yourself as a member of the free bourgeoisie,' added the king of Tune. of the free bourgeoisie. Subject of the kingdom of Argo, of the kingdom of Argo. A vagabond, of vagabond, in your soul, in my soul. I must call your attention to the fact, continued the king, that you will be hung all the same. The devil, said the poet, Only, continued Clopin imperturbably, you will be hung later on, with more ceremony,

Starting point is 03:34:08 at the expense of the good city of Paris, on a handsome stone gibbet and by honest men. That is a consolation. Just so, responded Gringwa. There are other advantages. In your quality of a high-toned sharper, you will not have to pay the taxes on mud, or the poor or lanterns to which the bourgeois of Paris are subject.

Starting point is 03:34:35 So be it, said the poet, I agree. 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 Tune, for I am a philosopher. At omnia in philosophy, omnis in philosopher, continentur. All things are contained in philosophy, all men in the philosopher, as you know." The King of Tunei scowled, "'What do you take me for, my friend? What Hungarian Jew patter are you jabbering at us? I don't know Hebrew.

Starting point is 03:35:15 One isn't a Jew because one is a bandit. I don't even steal any longer. I'm above all that. I kill. Cut-throat, yes. Cut-purs, no.' Gringua tried to slip in some excuse between these curt words, which wrath rendered more and more jerky.

Starting point is 03:35:35 I ask your pardon, Monseigneur, it is not Hebrew, tis Latin. I tell you, resumed Clopin angrily, that I am not a Jew, and that I'll have you hung belly of the synagogue like that little shopkeeper of Judea, who is by your side, and whom I entertain strong hopes of sealing nail to a counter one of these days, like the counterfeit coin that he is. So saying he pointed his finger at the little bearded Hungarian Jew, who had accosted Gringua with his facetote caratum, and who, understanding no other language,

Starting point is 03:36:14 beheld with surprise the King of Tune's ill-humour overflow upon him. At length, Monsieur Clopin calmed down. So, you will be a vagabond, you knave, he said to our poet. Of course, replied the poet. Willing is not all, said the surly clopan. Goodwill doesn't put one onion the more into the soup, it is good for nothing except to go to Paradise with.

Starting point is 03:36:44 Now, Paradise and the Thieves band are two different things. In order to be received among the thieves, you must prove that you are good for something, and for that purpose you must search the mannequin. "'I'll search anything you like,' said Gringua." Clopin made a sign. Several thieves detached themselves from the circle and returned a moment later. They brought two thick posts, terminated at their lower extremities in spreading timber

Starting point is 03:37:14 supports, which made them stand readily upon the ground. To the upper extremity of the two posts, they fitted a crossbeam, and the whole constituted a very pretty, portable gibbet, which Gringua, had the satisfaction of beholding rise before him in a twinkling. Nothing was lacking, not even the rope, which swung gracefully over the crossbeam. "'What are they going to do?' Gringua asked himself, with some uneasiness. A sound of bells, which he heard at that moment, put an end to his anxiety. It was a stuffed mannequin, which the vagabonds were suspending by the neck from the rope,

Starting point is 03:37:55 a sort of scarecrow dressed in red, and so hung with mule-bells and larger bells, that one might have tricked out thirty Castilian mules with them. These thousand tiny bells quivered for some time with the vibration of the rope, then gradually died away, and finally became silent when the mannequin had been brought into a state of immobility by that law of the pendulum which has dethroned the water-clock and the hour-glass. Then Clopin, pointing out to Gringuble, a rickety old stool placed beneath the mannequin. Climb up there. Death of the devil, objected Gringua.

Starting point is 03:38:34 I shall break my neck. Your stool limps like one of Marshal's distics. It has one hexameter leg and one pentameter leg. Climb, repeated Clopin. Gringua mounted the stool and succeeded, not without some oscillations of head and arms, in regaining his center of gravity. "'Now,' went on the King of Tune,

Starting point is 03:38:58 "'twist your right foot round your left leg "'and rise on the tip of your left foot.' "'Monseigneur,' said Gringua, "'so you absolutely insist on my breaking some of my limbs?' Clopin tossed his head. "'Hark ye, my friend, you talk too much. "'Here's the gist of the matter in two words. "'You are to rise on tiptoe as I tell you.

Starting point is 03:39:23 "'In that way, you will. will be able to reach the pocket of the mannequin. You will rummage it, you will pull out the purse that is there. And if you do all this without our hearing the sound of a bell, all is well. You shall be a vagabond. All we shall then have to do will be to thrash you soundly for the space of a week. Vantre d'ur, I will be careful, said Gringua, and suppose I do make the bell sound, then you will be hanged. Do you understand? I don't understand at all, replied Gringua. Listen once more. You are to search the mannequin and take away its purse.

Starting point is 03:40:06 If a single bell stirs during the operation, you will be hung. Do you understand that? Good, say Gringua. I understand that. And then? If you succeed in removing the purse without our hearing the bells, you are a vagabond, and you will be thrashed for eight consecutive days. You understand now, no doubt. No, monsieur, I no longer understand. Where is the advantage to me, hanged in one case, cuddled in the other? And a vagabond, resumed Clopin. And a vagabond. Is that nothing?

Starting point is 03:40:46 It is for your interest that we should beat you, in order to harden you to blows. "'Many thanks,' replied the poet. "'Come, make haste,' said the king, stamping upon his cask, which resounded like a huge drum. "'Search the mannequin, and let there be an end to this. I warn you for the last time that if I hear a single bell, you will take the place of the mannequin.' The band of thieves applauded Clopin's words and arranged themselves in a circle round the jibbet, with a laugh so pitiless that Gringua perceived that he amused them too much not to have everything to fear from them.

Starting point is 03:41:28 No hope was left for him, accordingly, unless it were the slight chance of succeeding in the formidable operation which was imposed upon him. He decided to risk it, but it was not without first having addressed a fervent prayer to the mannequin he was about to plunder, and who would have been easier to move to pity than the vagabonds. These myriad bells, with their little copper tongues, seemed to him like the mouths of so many aspes, open and ready to sting and to hiss. Oh, he said in a very low voice,

Starting point is 03:42:04 Is it possible that my life depends on the slightest vibration of the least of these bells? Oh, he added with clasped hands, bells do not ring, hand bells do not clang, mule bells do not quiver. He made one more attempt upon trefo. And if there should come a gust of wind, you will be hanged, replied the other, without hesitation. Perceiving that no respite, nor reprieve, nor subterfuge was possible,

Starting point is 03:42:38 he bravely decided upon his course of action. He wound his right foot round his left leg, raised himself on his left foot, and stretched out his arm. But at the moment when his hand touched the mannequin, his body, which was now supported upon one leg only, wavered on the stool which had but three. He made an involuntary effort to support himself by the mannequin, lost his balance, and fell heavily to the ground, deafened by the fatal vibration of the thousand bells of the mannequin, which, yielding to the impulse imparted by his hand, described first a rotary motion, and then swayed majestically between the

Starting point is 03:43:17 two posts. Malediction! he cried as he fell, and remained as though dead with his face to the earth. Meanwhile, he heard the dreadful peal above his head, the diabolical laughter of the vagabonds, and the voice of Trofei, saying, Pick me up that knave, and hang him without ceremony. He rose. They had already detached the mannequin to make room for him. The thieves made him mount the stool.

Starting point is 03:43:46 Clopin came to him, passed the rope about his neck, and tapping him on the shoulder. "'Ado, my friend. You can't escape now, even if you digested with the Pope's guts.' The word mercy died away upon Gringua's lips. He cast his eyes about him, but there was no hope. All were laughing. "'Bellevine de la Trois,' said the king of Tunei to an enormous vagabond who stepped out from the ranks. I'm upon the cross beam." Belivine de la Troix, Nimley mounted the traverse beam,

Starting point is 03:44:23 and in another minute, Gringua, on raising his eyes, beheld him, with terror, seated upon the beam above his head. Now, resumed Clopin Trifaud, As soon as I clap my hands, you, André the Red, will fling the stool to the ground with a blow of your knee. You, Francois Chante-Pruen, will cling to the feet of your feet,

Starting point is 03:44:46 of the rascal. And you, Bellevine, will fling yourself on his shoulders, and all three at once, do you hear?' Gringua shuddered. "'Are you ready?' said Clopin Trifot to the three thieves, who held themselves in readiness to fall upon Gringua. A moment of horrible suspense ensued for the poor victim, during which Clopin tranquilly thrust into the fire with the tip of his foot some bits of vine shoots which the flame had not caught. "'Are you ready?' he repeated, and opened his hands to clap. One second more, and all would have been over.

Starting point is 03:45:25 But he paused, as though struck by a sudden thought. "'One moment,' said he. "'I forgot. It is our custom not to hang a man without inquiring whether there is any woman who wants him. Comrade, this is your last resource. You must wed either a female vagabond or the noose. This law of the vagabonds, singular as it may strike the reader, remains today written out at length in ancient English legislation. Gringwa breathed again.

Starting point is 03:45:59 This was the second time that he had returned to life within an hour, so he did not dare to trust to it too implicitly. "'Ola!' cried Clopin, mounted once more upon his cask. Ola, women, females. Is there among you, from the sorceress to her cat, a wench who wants this rascal? Ola, Collette La Chiron, Elizabeth Trovan, Simon Jordan,

Starting point is 03:46:28 Mary Pedebo, Tonne Le Long, Barad vanuie, Mechercheon, Claude Rangoray, Maturin Girero, Ola, Isabel Latieri, Come and see.

Starting point is 03:46:42 A man for nothing! Who wants him? Gringua, no doubt, was not very appetizing in his 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 more fun for us all! Nevertheless, three emerged from the throng and came to smell of him.

Starting point is 03:47:09 The first was a big wench with a square, face. She examined the philosopher's deplorable doublet attentively. His garment was worn, and more full of holes than a stove for roasting chestnuts. The girl made a wry face. Old rag, she muttered, and addressing Gringua, let's see your cloak. I have lost it, replied Gringua. Your hat? They took it away from me. Your shoes? They have hardly any souls left. "'Your purse?' "'Alas,' stammered Gringua. "'I have not even a sou.'

Starting point is 03:47:47 "'Let them hang you then, and say, thank you,' retorted the vagabond wench, turning her back on him. The second, old, black, wrinkled, hideous, with an ugliness, conspicuous even in the Chordaer Miracles, trotted round Gringua. He almost trembled lest she should want him. But she mumbled between her teeth. He's too thin, and went off. The third was a young girl, quite fresh, and not too ugly.

Starting point is 03:48:18 Save me, said the poor fellow to her in a low tone. She gazed at him for a moment with an air of pity, then dropped her eyes, made a plate in her petticoat and remained in indecision. He followed all these movements with his eyes. It was the last gleam of hope. No, said the young girl at length. No, Gaillom Langewe would beat me. She retreated into the crowd.

Starting point is 03:48:47 You are unlucky, comrade, said Clopin. Then, rising to his feet upon his hogshead, No one wants him, he exclaimed, imitating the accent of an auctioneer to the great delight of all. No one wants him! Once, twice, three times! and, turning towards the jivot with a sign of his hand, Gone! Belavine de la Trois, André the Red, Francois Chante-Pruné, stepped up to Gringua.

Starting point is 03:49:19 At that moment a cry arose among the thieves. La Asmerelda! La Asmerelda! Gringua shuddered and turned towards the side whence the clamor proceeded. The crowd opened and gave passage to a pure and dazzling form. It was the gibbet. C. "'Lah Esmoralda,' said Gringua, stupefied in the midst of his emotions by the abrupt manner in which that magic word nodded together all his reminiscences of the day.

Starting point is 03:49:50 This rare creature seemed, even in the Cure de Miracles, to exercise her sway of charm and beauty. The vagabonds, male and female, ranged themselves gently along her path, and their brutal faces beamed beneath her glance. She approached the victim with her light step. Her pretty jolly followed her. Gringwa was more dead than alive. She examined him for a moment in silence. You are going to hang this man?

Starting point is 03:50:20 She said gravely to Clopin. Yes, sister, replied the king of Tunei. Unless you will take him for your husband! She made her pretty little pout with her under lip. I'll take him, said she. Gringua 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

Starting point is 03:50:55 obliged to sit down. The Duke of Egypt brought an earthenware crock without uttering a word. The gypsy offered it to Gringua. Fling it on the ground, said she. The crock broke into four pieces. Brother, then said the Duke of Egypt, laying his hands upon their foreheads. She is your wife. Sister, he is your husband for four years. Go.

Starting point is 03:51:24 End of Chapter 6. Book 2, Chapter 7 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 2, Chapter 7, A Bridal Night A Few moments later, our poet found himself in a tiny arched chamber. Very cozy, very warm, seated at a table which appeared to ask nothing better than to make some loans from a larder hanging nearby, having a good bed in prospect and alone with a pretty girl.

Starting point is 03:52:13 The adventure smacked of enchantment. He began seriously to take himself for a personage in a fairy tale. He cast his eyes about him from time to time to time, as though to see if the chariot of fire, harnessed to two-winged chimeras, which alone could have so rapidly transported him from Tartarus to paradise, were still there. At times also he fixed his eyes obstinately upon the holes in his doublet

Starting point is 03:52:40 in order to cling to reality and not lose the ground from under his feet completely. His reason, tossed about in imaginary space, now hung only by this thread. The young girl did not appear to pay any attention to him. She went and came, displaced a stool, talked to her goat, and indulged in a pout now and then. At last she came and seated herself near the table, and Gringua was able to scrutinize her at his ease. You have been a child, reader, and you would perhaps be very happy to be one still. It is quite certain that you have not more than once, and for my part I have passed whole days the best employed of my life at it, followed from thicket to thicket by the side of running

Starting point is 03:53:28 water on a sunny day, a beautiful green or blue dragonfly, breaking its flight in abrupt angles, and kissing the tips of all the branches. You recollect with what amorous curiosity your thought and your gaze were riveted upon this little whirlwind, hissing and humming with wings of purple and azure, in the midst of which floated an imperceptible body, veiled by the very rapidity of its movement. The aerial being, which was dimly outlined amid this quivering of wings, appeared to you chimerical, imaginary, impossible to touch, impossible to see. But then, at length, the dragonfly alighted on the tip of a reed, and, holding your breath the while you were able to examine the long gauze wings, the long enamel robe, the two globes of crystal, what astonishment you felt, and what fear lest you should again behold the form disappear into a shade, and the creature into a chimera. Recall these impressions, and you

Starting point is 03:54:33 will readily appreciate what Gringua felt on contemplating beneath her visible and palpable form, that Esmeralda of whom, up to that time, he had only caught a glimpse amidst a whirlwind of dance, song, and tumult. Sinking deeper and deeper into his reverie, "'So this,' he said to himself, following her vaguely with his eyes, "'is La Asmarelda, a celestial creature, a street-dancer, so much and so little, "'Twas she who dealt the death blow to my mystery this morning. "'Tis she who saves my life this evening.

Starting point is 03:55:12 "'My evil genius, my good angel, "'a pretty woman on my word, "'and who must needs love me madly "'to have taken me in that fashion.' "'By the way,' said he, rising suddenly, "'with that sentiment of the true "'which formed the foundation of his character and his philosophy, "'I don't know very well how it happens,

Starting point is 03:55:35 But I am her husband!' With this idea in his head, and in his eyes, he stepped up to the young girl in a manner so military and so gallant that she drew back. "'What do you want of me?' said she. "'Can you ask me, adorable Esmeralda?' replied Gringua, with so passionate an accent that he was himself astonished at it on hearing himself speak. The gypsy opened her great eyes. I don't know what you mean."

Starting point is 03:56:06 "'What?' resumed Gringua, growing warmer and warmer, and supposing that, after all, he had to deal merely with a virtue of the Coeur de Miracles. "'Am I not thine, sweet friend? Are thou not mine?' And, quite ingenuously, he clasped her waist. The gypsy's corsay slipped through his hands like the skin of an eel. She bounded from one end of the tiny room to the other, stooped down. down and raised herself again, with a little poniard in her hand, before Gringua had even

Starting point is 03:56:40 had time to see whence the poniard came, proud and angry, with swelling lips and inflated nostrils, her cheeks as red as an apy apple, and her eyes darting lightnings. At the same time the white goat placed itself in front of her, and presented to Gringua a hostile front, bristling with two pretty horns, gilded and very sharp. All this took place in the twinkling of an eye. The dragonfly had turned into a wasp, and asked nothing better than to sting. Our philosopher was speechless, and turned his astonished eyes from the goat to the young girl. "'Holy virgin!' he said at last, when surprise permitted him to speak.

Starting point is 03:57:25 "'Here are two hearty dames!' The gypsy broke the silence on her side. "'You must be a very bold knave!' "'Pardon, mademoiselle,' said Gringua with a smile. "'But why did you take me for your husband? Should I have allowed you to be hanged?' "'So,' said the poet, somewhat disappointed in his amorous hopes, "'you had no other idea in marrying me than to save me from the gibbet?'

Starting point is 03:57:53 "'And what other idea did you suppose that I had?' Gringua bit his lips. "'Come,' said he, "'I am not yet so true.' triumphant in Cupido as I thought. But then, what was the good of breaking that poor jug? Meanwhile, Esmeralda's dagger and the goat's horns were still upon the defensive. Mademoiselle Esmeralda, said the poet,

Starting point is 03:58:20 let us come to terms. I am not a clerk of the court, and I shall not go to law with you for thus carrying a dagger in Paris, in the teeth of the ordinances and the prohibitions of Monsieur the provost. Nevertheless, you are not ignorant of the fact that Noel Las Gravain was condemned a week ago to pay ten Parisian sous for having carried a cutlass. But this is no affair of mine, and I will come to the point. I swear to you, upon my share of paradise, not to approach you without your leave and permission, but do give me some supper.

Starting point is 03:58:57 The truth is, Gringhua was, like Monsieur Despros, not very very, voluptuous. He did not belong to that chevalier and musketeer species, who take young girls by assault. In the matter of love, as in all other affairs, he willingly assented to temporizing and adjusting terms. And a good supper, and an amiable tete-a-tete, appeared to him, especially when he was hungry, an excellent interlude between the prologue and the catastrophe of a love adventure. The gypsy did not reply. She made her disdainful little grimace, drew up her head like a bird, then burst out laughing, and the tiny poniour disappeared as it had come, without Gringwa being able to see where the wasp concealed its sting. A moment later there stood upon the table

Starting point is 03:59:49 a loaf of rye bread, a slice of bacon, some wrinkled apples, and a jug of beer. Gringua began to eat eagerly. One would have said, to hear the furious clashing of his iron fork and his earthenware plate that all his love had turned to appetite. The young girl seated opposite him, watched him in silence, visibly preoccupied with another thought, at which she smiled from time to time, while her soft hand caressed the intelligent head of the goat, gently pressed between her knees. A candle of yellow wax illuminated this scene of voracity and reverie. Meanwhile, the first cravings of his stomach having been stilled, Gringua felt some false shame

Starting point is 04:00:35 at perceiving that nothing remained but one apple. "'You do not eat, Mademoiselle, Esmeralda?' She replied by a negative sign of the head, and her pensive glance fixed itself upon the vault of the ceiling. "'What the deuce is she thinking of?' thought Gringua, staring at what she was gazing at. "'Tis impossible that it can be that stone dwarf carved in the keystone of that arch, which thus absorbs her attention. "'What the deuce! I can bear the comparison!' he raised his voice.

Starting point is 04:01:11 "'Mademoiselle!' she seemed not to hear him. He repeated, still more loudly, "'Mademoiselle Esmeralda!' Trouble wasted. The young girl's mind was elsewhere, and Gringwa's voice had not the power to recall it. Fortunately, the goat interfered. She began to pull her mistress gently by the sleeve. "'What dost thou want, Jolly?' said the gypsy hastily, as though suddenly awakened. "'She is hungry,' said Gringua, charmed to enter into conversation. Asmeralda began to crumble some bread, which Jolly ate gracefully from the hollow of her hand. Moreover, Gringua did not give her time to resume her reverie. He hazarded a delicate question. So you don't want me for your

Starting point is 04:02:01 husband? The young girl looked at him intently and said, no. For your lover, went on Gringua. She pouted and replied, No. For your friend, pursued Gringua. She gazed fixedly at him again, and said, after a momentary reflection. Perhaps. This, perhaps, so dear to philosophers, emboldened Gringua. Do you know what friendship is? he asked. Yes, replied the Gypsy. It is to be brother and sister, two souls which touch without mingling,

Starting point is 04:02:40 two fingers on one hand. And love, pursued Gringua. Oh, love, said she, and her voice. voice trembled, and her eye beamed. That is to be two and to be but one. A man and a woman mingled into one angel. It is heaven. The street dancer had a beauty as she spoke thus that struck Gringwa singularly, and seemed to him in perfect keeping with the almost oriental exultation of her words. Her pure red lips half smiled. Her serene and candid brow became troubled at intervals under her thoughts like a mirror under the breath. And from beneath her long,

Starting point is 04:03:25 drooping black eyelashes, there escaped a sort of ineffable light, which gave to her profile that ideal serenity, which Raphael found at the mystic point of intersection of virginity, maternity, and divinity. Nevertheless, Gringwa continued, "'What must one be, then, in order to please you?' "'A man.' "'And I,' said he, "'what then am I?' "'A man has a helmet on his head,

Starting point is 04:03:55 "'a sword in his hand, "'and golden spurs on his heels.' "'Good,' said Gringua, "'without a horse, no man. "'Do you love anyone?' "'As a lover? "'Yes.' "'She remained thoughtful for a moment,

Starting point is 04:04:12 "'then said with a peculiar expression, "'that I shall know soon.' Why not this evening, resumed the poet tenderly. Why not me? She cast a grave glance upon him and said, I can never love a man who cannot protect me. Gringwa colored and took the hint. It was evident that the young girl was alluding to the slight assistance,

Starting point is 04:04:40 which he had rendered her in the critical situation in which she had found herself two hours previously. This memory, effaced by his own adventures of the evening, now recurred to him. He smote his brow. "'By the way, mademoiselle, I ought to have begun there. Pardon my foolish absence of mind. How did you contrive to escape from the claws of Quasimodo?' This question made the gypsy shudder.

Starting point is 04:05:08 "'Oh, the horrible hunchback!' said she, hiding her face in her hands, and she shuddered as though with a violent cold. "'Horrible in truth,' said Gringua, who clung to his idea. But how did you manage to escape him?' La Asmoralda smiled, sighed, and remained silent. "'Do you know why he followed you?' began Gringua again, seeking to return to his question by a circuitous route. "'I don't know,' said the young girl, and she added, hastily, "'But you were following me also. Why were you following me also? Why were you following me.

Starting point is 04:05:47 In good faith, responded Gringua, I don't know either. Silence ensued. Gringua slashed the table with his knife. The young girl smiled and seemed to be gazing through the wall at something. All at once, she began to sing in a barely articulate voice. When las pintas saves, mudas eston in the tierra. She broke off abruptly and began to caress Jolly. "'That's a pretty animal of yours,' said Gringua.

Starting point is 04:06:20 "'She is my sister,' she answered. "'Why are you called La Asmoralda?' asked the poet. "'I do not know. But why?' She drew from her bosom a sort of little oblong bag, suspended from her neck by a string of a Dreserac beads. This bag exhaled a strong odor of camphor. It was covered with green silk and bore in its center a large piece of green glass, an imitation of an emerald.

Starting point is 04:06:51 Perhaps it is because of this, said she. Gringwa was on the point of taking the bag in his hand. She drew back. Don't touch it. It is an amulet. You would injure the charm, or the charm would injure you. The poet's curiosity was more and more aroused. Who gave it to you? She laid one finger on her mouth and concealed the amulet in her her bosom. He tried a few more questions, but she hardly replied. What is the meaning of the words La Esmeralda?" I don't know, said she.

Starting point is 04:07:28 To what language do they belong? They are Egyptian, I think. I suspect it as much, said Gringwa. You are not a native of France? I don't know. Are your parents alive? She began to sing to an ancient air. "'Mon per estuaseau, my mare is o'-sace,

Starting point is 04:07:51 "'I pass lo-since-nace'-le, "'I pass lo-since-bateau, "'ma-ma'-mer est-o'-s'-s'-o.' "'Good,' said Gring-wa. "'At what age did you come to France?' "'When I was very young. "'And when to Paris?' Last year. At the moment when we were entering the papal gate, I saw a reed warbler

Starting point is 04:08:20 flit through the air. That was at the end of August. I said it will be a hard winter. And so it was, said Gringwa, delighted at this beginning of a conversation. I passed it in blowing my fingers. So, you have the gift of prophecy? She retired into her laconic's again. Is that man whom you call the Duke of Egypt, the chief of your tribe?" Yes. But it was he who married us," remarked the poet timidly. She made her customary pretty grimace.

Starting point is 04:08:59 I don't even know your name. My name? If you want it, here it is. Pierre Gringwa. I know a prettier one, said she. Naudy girl, retorted the poet. mind, you shall not provoke me. Wait, perhaps you will love me more when you know me better, and then you have told me your story with so much confidence that I owe you a little of mine.

Starting point is 04:09:28 You must know, then, that my name is Pierre Gringwa, and that I am the son of the farmer of the notary's office of Gonesse. My father was hung by the Burgundians, and my mother disembowled by the to Cards at the siege of Paris twenty years ago. At six years of age, therefore, I was an orphan, without a soul to my foot except the pavements of Paris. I do not know how I pass the interval from six to sixteen. A fruit-dealer gave me a plum here, a baker flung me a crust there. In the evening I got myself taken up by the watch, who threw me into prison, and there I found a bundle of straw. All this did not prevent my growing up and growing thin as you see. In the winter I warmed myself in the sun under the porch of the Oté des Sands, and thought it very ridiculous that the

Starting point is 04:10:22 fire on St. John's Day was reserved for the dog days. At sixteen, I wished to choose a calling. I tried all in succession. I became a soldier, but I was not brave enough. I became a monk, but I was not sufficiently devout. And then I'm a bad hand at drinking. In despair I became an apprentice of the woodcutters, but I was not strong enough. I had more of an inclination to become a schoolmaster. Tis true that I did not know how to read, but that's no reason. I perceived at the end of a certain time that I lacked something in every direction, and seeing that I was good for nothing, of my own free will, I became a poet and a rhymester. That is a trade which one can always adopt when one is a vagabond, and it's better than stealing, as some young brigands

Starting point is 04:11:17 of my acquaintance advised me to do. One day I met by luck Dom Claude Frollo, the reverent archdeacon of Notre Dame. He took an interest in me, and it is to him that I, today owe it that I am a veritable man of letters, who knows Latin from the deophis of Cicero to the mortology of the Celestine Fathers, and a barbarian neither in scholastics nor in politics nor in rhythmics, that sophism of sophisms. I am the author of the mystery which was presented today with great triumph and a great concourse of populace in the grand hall of the palazza justice. I have also made a book which will contain 600 pages on the wonderful comet of 1465, which sent one man mad.

Starting point is 04:12:09 I have enjoyed still other successes. Being somewhat of an artillery carpenter, I lent a hand to Jean Manget's great bombard, which burst, as you know, on the day when it was tested on the Pont-A-Sherenton and killed four-and-twenty curious spectators. You see, that I am not a bad match in marriage. I know a great many sorts of very engaging tricks, which I will teach your goat. For example, to mimic the Bishop of Paris, that cursed Pharisee, whose mill-wheels splash passers-by the whole length of the Pont-O-Moneye.

Starting point is 04:12:48 And then my mystery will bring me in a great deal of coined money, if they will only pay me. And finally, I am at your orders. I and my wits, and my science, and my letters, ready to live with you, damsel, as it shall please you, chasely, or joyously, husband and wife, if you see fit, brother and sister, if you think that better. Gringwa ceased, awaiting the effect of his harangue on the young girl. Her eyes were fixed on the ground. Phoebus, she said in a low voice. Then, turning towards the poet, "'Phebus, what does that mean?' Gringua, without exactly understanding what the connection could be between his address and this question,

Starting point is 04:13:36 was not sorry to display his erudition. Assuming an air of importance, he replied, "'It is a Latin word which means son.' "'San,' she repeated. "'It is the name of a handsome archer, who was a god,' added Gringua. "'A god,' repeated the gypsy. and there was something pensive and passionate in her tone. At that moment one of her bracelets became unfastened and fell.

Starting point is 04:14:06 Gringwa stooped quickly to pick it up. When he straightened up, the young girl and the goat had disappeared. He heard the sound of a bolt. It was a little door, communicating no doubt with a neighboring cell, which was being fastened on the outside. "'Has she left me a bed at least?' said our philosopher. He made a tour of his cell. There was no piece of furniture adapted to sleeping purposes,

Starting point is 04:14:34 except a tolerably long wooden coffer, and its cover was carved to boot, which afforded Gringwa, when he stretched himself out upon it, a sensation somewhat similar to that which Macromagos would feel if he were to lie down on the Alps. "'Come,' said he, adjusting himself as well as possible, I must resign myself. But here's a strange nuptial night. Tis a pity. There was something innocent and antediluvian about that broken crock which quite pleased me. End of Chapter 7. Book 3rd, Chapter 1 of

Starting point is 04:15:25 the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 3, Chapter 1, Notre Dame. D'Am de Parie is still no doubt a majestic and sublime edifice. But, beautiful as it has been preserved in growing old, it is difficult not to sigh, not to wax indignant, before the numberless degradations and mutilations which time and men have both caused the venerable monument to suffer, without respect for Charlemagne who laid its first stone, or for Philip Augustus, who laid the last. On the face of this aged queen of our cathedrals, by the side of a wrinkle, one always finds a scar. Temos edicts, homo edacior, which I should be glad to translate thus,

Starting point is 04:16:21 Time is Blind, Man is Stupid. If we had leisure to examine with the reader one by one the diverse traces of destruction imprinted upon the old church, time's share would be the least, the share of men the most, especially the men of art, since there have been individuals who assume the title of architects during the last two centuries. And in the first place, to cite only a few leading examples, there certainly are few finer architectural pages than this façade, where, successively, and at once, the three portals hollowed out in an arch, the broidered and dentated cordon of the eight and 20 royal niches. The immense central rose window, flanked by its two lateral windows,

Starting point is 04:17:10 like a priest by his deacon and subdeacon. The frail and lofty gallery of trefoil arcades, which supports a heavy platform above its fine, slender columns. And lastly, the two black and massive towers with their slate penthouses, harmonious parts of a magnificent hole, superposed in five gigantic stories. Develop themselves before the eye, in a mass and without confusion, with their innumerable details of statuary, carving, and sculpture, joined powerfully to the tranquil grandeur of the whole. A vast symphony in stone, so to speak. The colossal work of one man and one people, altogether one, and complex, like the Iliads and the Romanceros, whose sister it is. Prodigious product of the grouping together of all the forces of an epic, where, upon each stone, one sees the

Starting point is 04:18:09 fancy of the workman, disciplined by the genius of the artist, start forth in a hundred fashions. A sort of human creation, in a word, powerful and fecund as the divine creation of which it seems to have stolen the double character, variety, eternity. And what we here say of the façade must be said of the entire church. and what we say of the Cathedral Church of Paris must be said of all the churches of Christendom in the Middle Ages. All things are in place in that art, self-created, logical, and well-proportioned.

Starting point is 04:18:47 To measure the great toe of the foot is to measure the giant. Let us return to the facade of Notre Dame, as it still appears to us, when we go piously to admire the grave and puissant cathedral, which inspires terror, so its chronicles assert. Coe, mole, sua, tererum, incutit spectanctibus. Three important things are today lacking in that façade. In the first place, the staircase of eleven steps, which formerly raised it above the soil.

Starting point is 04:19:24 Next, the lower series of statues, which occupied the niches of the three portals. And lastly, the upper series. of the 28 most ancient kings of France, which garnished the gallery of the first story, beginning with Childeberg and ending with Philip Augustus, holding in his hand the imperial apple. Time has caused the staircase to disappear, by raising the soil of the city with a slow and irresistible progress. But while thus causing the eleven steps, which added to the majestic height of the edifice to be devoured, one by one by the rising tide of the pavements of Paris, time has bestowed upon the church, perhaps more than it has taken away, for it is time which has spread over the facade that somber

Starting point is 04:20:15 hue of the centuries which makes the old age of monuments the period of their beauty. But who has thrown down the two rows of statues? Who has left the niches empty? Who has cut in the very middle of the central portal that new and bastard arch? Who has dared to frame therein that commonplace and heavy door of carved wood, a la Louis Xteenth, beside the arabesques of Biscornet? The men, the architects, the artists of our day? And if we enter the interior of the edifice, who has overthrown that colossus of St. Christopher,

Starting point is 04:20:54 proverbial for magnitude among statues, as the Grand Hall of the Palais de Justice was among halls, as the spire of Strasbourg among spires, and those myriads of statues, which peopled all the spaces between the columns of the nave and the choir, kneeling, standing, equestrian, men, women, children, kings, bishops, gendarmes in stone, in marble, in gold, in silver, and copper, in wax even. Who has brutally swept them away? It is not time. And who substituted for the ancient Gothic altar, splendidly encumbered with shrines and reliquaries, that heavy marble sarcophagus, with angels' heads and clouds, which seems a specimen pillaged from the Val de Gras,

Starting point is 04:21:43 or the invalidae? Who stupidly sealed the heavy anachronism of stone in the Carlovingian pavement of Hercandus? Was it not Louis XIV, fulfilling the request of Louis XIII? And who put the cold white panes in the place of those windows high in color, which caused the astonished eyes of our fathers to hesitate between the rows of the Grand Portal and the arches of the apse? And what would a sub-chanter of the 16th century say, on beholding the beautiful yellow wash, with which our arch-episcopal vandals have dismared their cathedral. He would remember that it was the color with which the hangman smeared a cursed edifices. He would recall the Hotel de Petit Bourbon all smeared thus on account of the constable's

Starting point is 04:22:32 treason. Yellow, after all, of so good a quality, said Soval, and so well recommended, that more than a century has not yet caused it to lose its color. He would think that the sacred place had become infamous, and would flee. And if we ascend the cathedral, without mentioning a thousand barbarisms of every sort, what has become of that charming little bell-tower which rested upon the point of intersection of the cross-roofs, and which, no less frail and no less bold than its neighbor, also destroyed, the spire of the Saint-Chapelle, buried itself in the sky, farther forward than the towers, slender, pointed, sonorous, carved in open work. An architect of good taste amputated it, 1787, and considered it sufficient to mask the wound

Starting point is 04:23:26 with that large leaden plaster which resembles a pot-cover. Tis thus that the marvelous art of the Middle Ages has been treated in nearly every country, especially in France. One can distinguish on its ruins three sorts of lesions, all three of which cut into it at different depths. First, time, which has insensibly notched its surface here and there, and gnawed it everywhere. Next, political and religious revolution, which, blind and wrathful by nature, have flung themselves tumultuously upon it, torn its rich garment of carving and sculpture, burst its rose windows, broken its necklace of arabesques and tiny figures, torn out its statues, sometimes, because of their miters, sometimes because of their crowns.

Starting point is 04:24:21 Lastly, fashions, even more grotesque and foolish, which, since the anarchical and splendid deviations of the Renaissance, have followed each other in the necessary decadence of architecture. Fashions have wrought more harm than revolutions. They have cut to the quick. They have attacked the very bone and framework of art. They have cut, slashed, disorganized, killed the edifice. in form as in the symbol, in its consistency, as well as in its beauty.

Starting point is 04:24:54 And then they have made it over, a presumption of which, neither time nor revolutions at least, have been guilty. They have audaciously adjusted, in the name of good taste, upon the wounds of Gothic architecture, their miserable gygaws of a day, their ribbons of marble, their pompons of metal, a veritable leprosy of egg-shaped ornaments, volutes, whirls, draperies, garlands, fringes, stone flames, bronze clouds, pudy cupids, chubby-cheeked cherubim, which begin to devour the face of art in the oratory of Catherine de Medici, and cause it to expire, two centuries later, tortured and grimacing in the boudoir of the Dubari. Thus, to sum up the points which we have just indicated, three sorts of ravages today disfigure Gothic architecture.

Starting point is 04:25:50 Rinkles and warts on the epidermis, this is the work of time. Deeds of violence, brutalities, contusions, fractures, this is the work of the revolutionaries, from Luther to Maribol. Mutilations, amputations, dislocation of the joints, restorations, this is a the Greek, Roman, and barbarian work of professors, according to Vitruvius and Vignol. This magnificent art produced by the Vandals has been slain by the academies. The centuries, the revolutions, which at least devastate with impartiality and grandeur, have been joined by a cloud of school architects, licensed, sworn, and bound by oath,

Starting point is 04:26:38 defacing with the discernment and choice of bad takes. substituting the chikouris of Louis XIV for the Gothic lace for the greater glory of the Parthenon. It is the kick of the ass at the dying lion. It is the old oak crowning itself, and which, to heap the measure full, is stung, bitten, and gnawed by caterpillars. How far it is from the epic when Robert S.a. Lee, comparing Notre Dame to Paris to Paris to the famous temple of Diana edificus, so much lauded by the ancient pagans, which Erostatus has immortalized from the Gallic temple more excellent in length, breath, height, and structure. Notre Dame is not, moreover, what can be called a complete, definite, classified monument.

Starting point is 04:27:31 It is no longer a Romanesque church, nor is it a Gothic church. This edifice is not a type. Notre Dame da Paris has not, like the Abbey of Tornou, the grave and massive frame, the large and round vault, the glacial bareness, the majestic simplicity of the edifices which have the rounded arch for their progenitor. It is not, like the Cathedral of Borge, the magnificent, light, multiform, tufted, bristling, efflorescent product of the pointed arch. Impossible to class it in that ancient family of somber mysterious churches, low and crushed, as it were by the round arch, almost Egyptian, with the exception of the ceiling.

Starting point is 04:28:18 All hieroglyphics, all sacerdotal, all symbolical, more loaded in their ornaments, with lozenges and zigzags than with flowers, with flowers than with animals, with animals than with men. The work of the architect less than of the bishop. First transformation of arts, all impressed with theocratic and military discipline, taking root in the lower empire, and stopping with the time of William the Conqueror. Impossible to place our cathedral in that other family of lofty aerial churches, rich in painted windows and sculpture. Pointed in form, bold in attitude.

Starting point is 04:28:58 Communal and bourgeois as political symbol. symbols. Free, capricious, lawless as a work of art. Second transformation of architecture, no longer hieroglyphic, immovable, and sacerdotal, but artistic, progressive, and popular, which begins at the return of the Crusades and ends with Louis VIII. Notre Dame to Paris is not of pure Romanesque, like the first, nor of pure Arabian race like the second. It is an edifice of the transition period. The Saxon architect completed the erection of the first pillars of the nave when the pointed arch, which dates from the crusade,

Starting point is 04:29:40 arrived and placed itself as a conqueror upon the large Romanesque capitals which should support only round arches. The pointed arch, mistress since that time, constructed the rest of the church. Nevertheless, timid and inexperienced at the start, It sweeps out, grows larger, restrains itself, and dares no longer dart upwards in spires and lancet windows, as it did later on, in so many marvelous cathedrals. One would say that it were conscious of the vicinity of the heavy Romanesque pillars. However, these edifices of the transition from the Romanesque to the Gothic are no less precious for study than the pure types.

Starting point is 04:30:24 They express a shade of the art which would be lost without them. It is the graft of the pointed upon the round arch. Notre Dame de Paris is in particular a curious specimen of this variety. Each face, each stone of the venerable monument, is a page not only of the history of the country, but of the history of science and art as well. Thus, in order to indicate here only the principal details, while the little red door almost attains to the limits of the Gothic delicacy of the 15th century,

Starting point is 04:30:58 the pillars of the nave, by their size and weight, go back to the Carlovingian Abbey of the Saint-Germain-Depre. One would suppose that six centuries separated these pillars from that door. There is no one, not even the hermetics, who does not find in the symbols of the Grand Portal a satisfactory compendium of their science, of which, the Church of Saint Jacques de la Boucherie was so complete a hieroglyph. Thus, the Roman Abbey, the Philosopher's Church, the Gothic art, Saxon art, the heavy round pillar, which recalls Gregory VIII,

Starting point is 04:31:36 the Hermetic symbolism, with which Nicholas Flamele played the Prelude to Luther, papal unity, schism, Saint-Germain-de-Prae, Saint-Jacques de la Boucherie, all are mingled, combined, amalgamated in Notre Dame. This central mother church is, among the ancient churches of Paris, a sort of chimera. It has the head of one, the limbs of another, the haunches of another, something of all. We repeat it. These hybrid constructions are not the least interesting for the artists, for the antiquarian, for the historian. They make one feel to what a degree architecture is a primitive thing, by demonstrating what is also demonstrated.

Starting point is 04:32:22 by the cyclopean vestiges, the pyramids of Egypt, the gigantic Hindu pagodas, that the greatest products of architecture are less the works of individuals than of society, rather the offspring of a nation's effort than the inspired flash of a man of genius, the deposit left by a whole people, the heaps accumulated by centuries, the residue of successive evaporation of human society, in a word, species of formations. Each wave of time contributes its alluvium, each race deposits its layer on the monument, each individual brings his stone. Thus do the beavers, thus do the bees, thus do men.

Starting point is 04:33:08 The great symbol of architecture Babel is a hive. Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of centuries. Art often undergoes a transformation while they are pending, pendant opira interrupta. They proceed quietly in accordance with the transformed art. The new art takes the monument where it finds it, encrusts itself there, assimilates it to itself, develops it according to its fancy, and finishes it if it can. The thing is accomplished without trouble, without effort, without reaction, following a natural and tranquil law. It is a graft which shoots up, a sap which circulates, a vegetation which starts forth anew.

Starting point is 04:33:55 Certainly there is matter here for many large volumes, and often the universal history of humanity in the successive and grafting of many arts at many levels upon the same monument. The man, the artist, the individual, is effaced in these great masses, which lack the name of their author. Human intelligence is there summed up and totalized. Time is the architect, the nation is the builder. Not to consider here anything except the Christian architecture of Europe, that younger sister of the great Masonries of the Orient, it appears to the eyes as an immense formation divided into three well-defined zones, which are superposed, the one upon the other. The Romanesque zone, the Gothic zone, the zone of the Renaissance, which we would gladly call the Greco-Roman zone.

Starting point is 04:34:47 The Roman layer, which is the most ancient and deepest, is occupied by the round arch, which reappears supported by the Greek column in the modern and upper layer of the Renaissance. The pointed arch is found between the two. The edifices which belong exclusively to any of these three layers are perfectly distinct, uniform, and complete. There is the Abbey of Jumeje, there is the Cathedral of Rhymes, there is the Saint-Quas of Orleans. But the three zones mingle and amalgamate along the edges, like the colors in the solar spectrum. Hence, complex monuments, edifices of gradation and transition. One is Roman at the base, Gothic in the middle, Greco-Roman at the top.

Starting point is 04:35:34 It is because it was 600 years in building. This variety is rare. The Donjon Keep of de Tamp is a specimen of it. But monuments of two formations are more frequent. There is Notre Dame de Paris, a pointed arch edifice, which is embedded by its pillars in that Roman zone, in which are plunged the portal of Saint-Dain-Depre. And the nave of Saint-Germain-Depre.

Starting point is 04:36:00 There is the charming, half-gothic chapter-house of Boucherie, where the Roman layer extends halfway up. There is the Cathedral of Rau-Anne, which would be entirely Gothic if it did not bathe the tip of its central spire in the zone of the Renaissance. However, all these shades, all these differences, do not affect the surfaces of edifices only. It is art which has changed its skin. The very constitution of the Christian Church is not attacked by it. There is always the same internal woodwork, the same logical arrangement of parts. Whatever may be the

Starting point is 04:36:39 a carved and embroidered envelope of a cathedral, one always finds beneath it in the state of a germ and of a rudiment at the least, the Roman basilica. It is eternally developed upon the soil according to the same law. There are invariably two knaves, which intersect in a cross, and whose upper portion, rounded into an apse, forms the choir. There are always the side aisles for interior processions, for chapels, a sort of lateral walks or promenades, where the principal nave discharges itself through the space between the pillars. That settled, the number of chapels, doors, bell towers, and pinnacles are modified to infinity, according to the fancy of the century, the people, and art. The service of religion once assured and provided for, architecture does what

Starting point is 04:37:32 she pleases. Statues, stained glass, rose windows, arabesques, denticulations, capitals, ba-reliefs, she compines all of these imaginings according to the arrangement which best suits her. Hence the prodigious exterior variety of these edifices, at whose foundation dwells so much order and unity. The trunk of a tree is immovable, the foliage is capricious. End of Chapter 1. Book 3, Chapter 2 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor U.S. this Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Book 3, Chapter 2, A Bird's Eye View of Paris. We have just attempted to restore, for the reader's benefit, that admirable church of Notre

Starting point is 04:38:35 Dame de Paris. We have briefly pointed out the greater part of the beauties which it possessed in the 15th century, and which it lacks today. But we have omitted the principal thing, the view of Paris which was then to be obtained from the summits of its towers. That was, in fact, when, after having long groped one's way up the dark spiral, which perpendicularly pierces the thick wall of the belfries, one emerged, at last abruptly, upon one of the lofty platforms, inundated with light and air. That was, in fact, a fine picture which spread out on all sides at once before the eye.

Starting point is 04:39:16 A spectacle, Sui Genaris, of which those of our readers who have had the good fortune to see a Gothic city entire, complete, homogeneous, a few of which still remain, Nuremberg in Bavaria and Victoria in Spain, can readily form an idea, or even smaller specimens provided that they are well preserved, Vitre in Brittany, Nordhausen in Prussia. The Paris of 350 years ago, the Paris of the 15th century, was already a gigantic city. We Parisians generally make a mistake as to the ground which we think that we have gained, since Paris has not increased much over one-third since the time of Louis XI. 11th. It has certainly lost more in beauty than it has gained in size. Paris had its birth, as the reader knows, in that old island of the city, which has the form of a cradle.

Starting point is 04:40:15 The strand of that island was its first boundary wall, the seine, its first moat. Paris remained for many centuries in its island state, with two bridges, one on the north, the other on the south, and two bridgeheads, which were at the same time its gates and its fortresses. the Grand Chatelle on the right bank, the Petit Chatelle on the left. Then, from the date of the kings of the first race, Paris, being too cribbed and confined in its island, and unable to return thither, cross the water. Then, beyond the Grand, beyond the Petit Chatele, a first circle of walls and towers began to infringe upon the country on the two sides of the seine.

Starting point is 04:41:01 Some vestiges of this ancient enclosure still remain in the last. century. Today, only the memory of it is left, and here and there a tradition, the Baudets, or Baudillet Gate, Port Bogoda. Little by little, the tide of houses, always thrust from the center of the city outwards, overflows, devours, wears away, and defaces this wall. Philippe Augustus makes a new dike for it. He imprisons Paris in a circular chain of great towers, both lofty and solid. For the period of more than a century, the houses press upon each other,

Starting point is 04:41:40 accumulate and raise their level in this basin, like water in a reservoir. They begin to deepen. They pile story upon story. They mount upon each other. They gush forth at the top, like all laterally compressed growth, and there is a rivalry as to which

Starting point is 04:42:00 shall thrust its head above its neighbors for the sake of gulfed. getting a little air. The street glows narrower and deeper. Every space is overwhelmed and disappears. The houses finally leap the wall of Philippe Augustus and scatter joyfully over the plain, without order, and all askew, like runaways. They plant themselves squarely, cut themselves gardens from the fields, and take their ease. Beginning with 1367, the city spreads to such an extent into the suburbs that a new wall becomes necessary, particularly on the right bank. Charles V builds it, but a city like Paris is perpetually growing. It is only such cities that

Starting point is 04:42:44 become capitals. They are funnels, into which all the geographical, political, moral, and intellectual watersheds of a country, all the natural slopes of a people poor. Wells of civilization, so to speak, and also sewers, where, commerce, industry, intelligence, population, all that is sap, all that is life, all that is the soul of a nation, filters and amasses unceasingly, drop by drop, century by century. So Charles V's wall suffered the fate of that of Philipp Augustus. At the end of the 15th century, the Fowberg strides across it, passes beyond it, and runs farther. In the 16th, it seems to retreat visibly, and to bury itself deeper and deeper in the old city, so thick had the new

Starting point is 04:43:38 city already become outside of it. Thus, beginning with the 15th century, where our story finds us, Paris had already outgrown the three concentric circles of walls, which, from the time of Julian the apostate, existed, so to speak, in germ in the Grand Chatellae and the Petit Chatele. The mighty city had cracked in succession its four enclosures of walls, like a child grown too large for his garments of last year. Under Louis XI. 11th, this sea of houses was seen to be pierced at intervals by several groups of ruined towers from the ancient wall, like the summits of hills and an inundation, like archipelagos of the old Paris submerged beneath the new. Since that time, Paris has undergone yet another transformation, unfortunately for our eyes, but it has passed only one more

Starting point is 04:44:33 wall, that of Louis XIV, that miserable wall of mud and spittle, worthy of the king who built it, worthy of the poet who sung it, Le Mourmerant, Paris Rant Paris Murmmerant. The wall-walling Paris makes Paris murmur. In the 15th century, Paris was still divided into three wholly distinct and separate towns, each having its own physiognomy, its own specialty, its manners, customs, privileges, and history. The city, the university, the town. The city, which occupied the island, was the most ancient, the smallest, and the mother of the other two, crowded in between them like, may we be pardoned a comparison, a little old woman between two large and handsome maidens.

Starting point is 04:45:27 The university covered the left bank of the Seine, from the Tour de Nesley, points which correspond in the Paris of today, the one to the wine market, the other to the mint. Its wall included a large part of that plain where Julian had built his hot baths. The hill of Saint-Jeanvieve was enclosed in it. The culminating point of this sweep of walls was the papal gate, that is to say, near the present site of the Pantheon.

Starting point is 04:45:57 The town, which was the largest of the three fragments of Paris, held the right bank. Its key, broken or interrupted in many places, ran along the Seine, from the Tour de Belie to the Tour de Bois, that is to say, from the place where the granary stands today, to the present site of the Tuileries. These four points, where the Seine intersected the wall of the capital, the Tournelle, and the Tour de Nesley on the right, and the Tour de Belie and the Tour de Bois on the left, were called, preeminently, the four towers of Paris.

Starting point is 04:46:33 The town encroached still more extensively upon the fields than the university. The culminating point of the town wall, that of Charles V, was at the gates of Saint-Denie and San Martin, whose situation has not been changed. As we have just said, each of these three great divisions of Paris was a town, but too special a town to be complete, a city which could not get along with the other two.

Starting point is 04:47:00 Hence, three entirely distinct aspects. Churches abounded in the city, palaces in the town, and colleges in the university. Neglecting here the originalities of secondary importance in old Paris and the capricious regulations regarding the public highways, we will say, from a general point of view, taking only masses and the whole group in this chaos of communal jurisdictions that the island belonged to the bishop, the right bank to the provost of the merchants, the left bank to the rector. Overall ruled the provost of Paris, a royal, not a municipal office. The city had Notre Dame, the town, the Louvre, and the Hotel de V, the university, the Sarbonne. The town had the markets, the city, the hospital, the university, the Prey-Eau-Claire.

Starting point is 04:47:53 Offenses committed by the scholars on the left bank were tried in the law courts on the island, and were punished on the right bank at Montfassonne, unless the rector, feeling the university to be strong and the king weak intervened, for it was the student's privilege to be hanged on their own grounds. The greater part of these privileges, it may be noted in passing, and there were some even better than the above, had been extorted from the kings by revolts and mutinies, It is the course of things from time immemorial. The king only lets go when the people tear away.

Starting point is 04:48:31 There is an old charter which puts the matter naively, apropos of fidelity. Civibus Fidelitas in reges, quoetamin, aliquotius, sediti onibus, interrupta, mutta, pepperit, privileaia. In the 15th century, the saint bathed five islands within the walls of Paris. Luvier Island, where there were then trees, and where there is no longer anything but wood,

Starting point is 04:49:01 Le Isle O'Vash and Le Ile Notre Dame, both deserted, with the exception of one house, both fiefs of the bishop. In the 17th century, a single island was formed out of these two, which was built upon and named Leil Saint-Louis. Lastly, the city, and at its point, the little islet of the cow-tender, which was afterwards engulfed beneath the platform of the Pond Nuff. The city then had five bridges, three on the right, the Pont Notre Dame and the Ponto of stone, the Ponto Mognier of wood, two on the left, the Pettipont of stone, and the Pau-San-Michel of

Starting point is 04:49:42 wood, all loaded with houses. The university had six gates, built by Philippe Augustus. There were, beginning with La Tournelle, the Port Saint-Victor, the Port-Bordel, the Port-Papal, the Port St. Jacques, the Port St. Michel, the Port St. Germain. The town had six gates, built by Charles V. Beginning with the Tour de Belie, they were, the Port St. Antoine, the Port du Templa, the Port St. Montaigne, the Port St. Montmartin, the Port St. Honouré. All these gates were strong and also handsome, which does not detract from strength. A large, deep moat, with a brisk current during the high water of winter, bathed the base of the walled round Paris. The seine furnished the water. At night the gates were shut, the river was barred at both ends of the city with huge iron chains,

Starting point is 04:50:43 and Paris slept tranquilly. From a bird's-eye view, these three bergs, the city, the town, and the University, each presented to the eye an inextricable skein of eccentricly tangled streets. Nevertheless, at first sight, one recognized the fact that these three fragments formed but one body. One immediately perceived three long parallel streets, unbroken, undisturbed, traversing, almost in a straight line, all three cities, from one end to the other, from north to south perpendicularly to the same, which bound them together, mingled them, infused them in each other, poured and transfused the people incessantly from one to the other,

Starting point is 04:51:29 and made one out of the three. The first of these streets ran from the Port St. Martin. It was called the Rue St. Jacques in the University, Rue de la Jouvaire in the city, Rue Saint-Martin in the town. It crossed the water twice, under the name of the Piedéééééééééé in the town. It crossed the water twice, under the name of the Petit Pond and the Pont Notre Dame. The second, which was called the Rue de la Arp on the left bank, Rue de la Barillerie on the island,

Starting point is 04:51:56 Rue Saint-Denie on the right bank, Pont Saint-Michel on one arm of the seine, Pont-Ochange on the other, ran from the Port St. Michel in the University to the Port St. Doni in the town. However, under all these names, there were but two streets, parent streets, generating streets. the two arteries of Paris.

Starting point is 04:52:18 All the other veins of the triple city either derived their supply from them or emptied into them. Independently of these two principal streets, piercing Paris diametrically in its whole breadth from side to side, common to the entire capital, the city and the university had also each its own great special street, which ran lengthwise by them, parallel to the same, cutting as it passed,

Starting point is 04:52:45 at right angles the two arterial thoroughfares. Thus, in the town, one descended in a straight line from the Port Saint-Antoine to the Port Saint-Anore, in the University, from the Port St. Victor to the Port St. Germain. These two great thoroughfares intersected by the two first, formed the canvas upon which reposed, nodded, and crowded together on every hand, the labyrinthine network of the streets of Paris.

Starting point is 04:53:15 In the incomprehensible plan of these streets, one distinguished likewise, on looking attentively, two clusters of great streets, like magnified sheaves of grain, one in the university, the other in the town, which spread out gradually from the bridges to the gates. Some traces of this geometrical plan still exist today. Now, what aspect did this whole present, when, as viewed from the summit of the towers of Notre Dame, in 1482, that we shall try to describe. For the spectator who arrived panting upon that pinnacle, it was first a dazzling, confusing view of roofs, chimneys, streets, bridges, places, spires, bell-towers. Everything struck your eye at once.

Starting point is 04:54:05 The carved gable, the pointed roof, the turrets suspended at the angles of the walls, the stone pyramids of the 11th century, the slate obfellings, the slate obfellings, ballisks of the 15th, the round, bare tower of the dungeon keep, the square and fretted tower of the church, the great and the little, the massive, and the aerial. The eye was, for a long time, wholly lost in this labyrinth, where there was nothing which did not possess its originality, its reason, its genius, its beauty, nothing which did not proceed from art. Beginning with the smallest house, with its painted and carved front, with external beams, elliptical door, with projecting stories, to the Royal Louvre, which then had a culminate of towers.

Starting point is 04:54:54 But these are the principal masses which were then to be distinguished when the eye began to accustom itself to this tumult of edifices. In the first place, the city. The island of the city, as Soval says, who, in spite of his confused medley, sometimes has such happy turns of expression. The island of the city is made like a great ship, stuck in the mud and run aground in the current near the center of the seine.

Starting point is 04:55:24 We have just explained that in the 15th century, this ship was anchored to the two banks of the river by five bridges. This form of a ship had also struck the heraldic scribes, for it is from that, and not from the siege by the Normans, that the ship which blazes the old shield of Paris comes, according to Favain and Pasquire. For him who understands how to decipher them, armorial bearings are algebra. Armorial bearings have a tongue. The whole history of the second half of the Middle Ages is written in armorial bearings. The first half is in the symbolism of the Roman churches.

Starting point is 04:56:05 They are the hieroglyphics of feudalism, succeeding those of theocracy. Thus the city, first presented itself to the eye, with its stern to the east and its prow to the west. Turning towards the prow, one had before one an innumerable flock of ancient roofs, over which arched broadly the lead-covered apse of the Saint-Chapelle, like an elephant's haunches loaded with its tower. Only here, this tower was the most audacious, the most open, the most ornamented spire of cabinet-makers' work that ever let the sky. peeped through its cone of lace. In front of Notre Dame, and very near at hand,

Starting point is 04:56:48 three streets opened into the cathedral square, a fine square lined with ancient houses. Over the south side of this place bent the wrinkled and sullen façade of the Hotel Dieu, and its roof which seemed covered with warts and postules. Then, on the right and the left, to the east and west, within that wall of the city, which was yet so contracted, rose the bell-towers of its one-and-twenty churches, of every date,

Starting point is 04:57:17 of every form, of every size, from the low and worm-eaten belfry of the Saint-Dené-Dupé, to the slender needles of Saint-Pierre au Boeufs and Saint-Landrie. Behind Notre Dame, the cloister and its Gothic gallery spread out towards the north. On the south, the half-Roman palace of the bishop. On the east, the desert point of the terrain. In this throng of houses, the eye also distinguished, by the lofty open-work miters of stone which then crowned the roof itself, even the most elevated windows of the palace,

Starting point is 04:57:52 the hotel given by the city, under Charles VI, to Juvenal de Arsand. A little farther on, the pitched covered sheds of the Palus market. In still another quarter, the new apse of the Saint-Germain-Lavieu, lengthened in 1458 with a bit of the rue of fab, and then in places a square crowded with people, a pillory erected at the corner of a street, a fine fragment of the pavement of Philippe Augustus, a magnificent flagging, grooved for the horse's feet in the middle of the road, and so badly replaced in the 16th century by the miserable cobblestones, called the pavement of the league, a deserted back courtyard, with one of those,

Starting point is 04:58:37 diaphanous staircase turrets, such as were erected in the 15th century, one of which is still to be seen in the Rue de Bordeauxne. Lastly, at the right of the Saint-Chapelle towards the west, the palace de justice, rested its group of towers at the edge of the water. The thickets of the King's Gardens, which covered the western point of the city, massed the island of Pessier. As for the water, from the summit of the towers of Notre Dame, one hardly saw it, on either side of the city. The saying was hidden by bridges, the bridges, by houses. And when the glance passed these bridges,

Starting point is 04:59:17 whose roofs were visibly green, rendered moldy before their time by the vapors of the water, if it was directed to the left towards the university, the first edifice which struck it was a large low sheaf of towers, the Petit Chatele, whose yawning gate devoured the end of the Petit Pond. Then, if your view ran along the bank, from east to west, from the tournelle to the Tour de Neslaix, there was a long cordon of houses, with carved beams, stained-glass windows, each story projecting over that beneath it, an interminable zigzag of bourgeois gables, frequently interrupted by the

Starting point is 04:59:57 mouth of a street, and from time to time also by the front or angle of a huge stone mansion, planted at its ease with courts and gardens, wings and detached buildings, amid this populace of crowded and narrow houses, like a grand gentleman among a throng of rustics. There were five or six of these mansions on the quay, from the House of Lorraine, which shared with the Bernardans the Grand enclosure adjoining the Tournelle to the Hotel de Nisle, whose principal tower ended Paris,

Starting point is 05:00:28 and whose pointed roofs were in a position during three months of the year to encroach with their black triangles upon the scarlet disc of the setting sun. This side of the Seine was, however, the last mercantile of the two. Students furnished more of a crowd and more noise there than artisans, and there was not, properly speaking, any key except from the Pont-San-Michel to the Tour de Nesle. The rest of the bank of the Seine was now a naked strand, the same as beyond the Bernardin. Again a throng of houses standing with their feet in the water as between the two bridges.

Starting point is 05:01:07 There was a great uproar of laundresses. They screamed and talked and sang from morning till night along the beach, and beat a great deal of linen there, just as in our day. This is not the least of the gaieties of Paris. The university presented a dense mass to the eye. From one end to the other it was homogeneous, and compact. The thousand roofs, dense, angular, clinging to each other, composed nearly all of the same geometrical element, offered, when viewed from above, the aspect of a crystallization

Starting point is 05:01:45 of the same substance. The capricious ravine of streets did not cut this block of houses into two disproportionate slices. The 42 colleges were scattered about in a fairly equal manner, and there were some everywhere. The amusingly varied crests of these beautiful edifices were the product of the same art as the simple roofs which they overshot, and were actually only a multiplication of the square or the cube of the same geometrical figure. Hence, they complicated the whole effect without disturbing it,

Starting point is 05:02:20 completed without overloading it. Geometry is harmony. Some fine mansions here and there made magnificent outlines against the picturesque addicts of the left bank. The House of Niverr, the House of Rome, the House of Rhymes, which have disappeared. The Hotel du Cluny, which still exists, for the consolation of the artist, and whose tower was so stupidly deprived of its crown a few years ago. Close to Cluny, that Roman palace, with fine round arches, were once the hot baths of Julian.

Starting point is 05:02:58 There were a great many abbeys, of a beauty more devout, of a grandeur more solemn than the mansions, but not less beautiful, not less grand. Those which first caught the eye were the Bernandans, with their three bell-towers. San Jan Viev, whose square tower, which still exists, makes us regret the rest. The Sorbonne, half-college, half-monastery, of which, so admirable a knave survives. The fine quadrilateral cloister of the Maturan, its neighbor, the cloister of Saint-Benois, within whose walls they have had time to cobble up a theater, between the seventh and eighth editions of this book. The Cordellier, with their three enormous adjacent gables.

Starting point is 05:03:46 The Augustine, whose graceful spire formed after the Tour de Neslaix, the second anticulation of this side of Paris, starting from the west. The colleges, which are, in fact, the intermediate ring between the cloister and the world, hold the middle position in the monumental series between the Hotel and the Abbeys, with a severity full of elegance, sculpture less giddy than the palaces, and architecture less severe than the convents. Unfortunately, hardly anything remains of these monuments, where Gothic art combined with so just a balance, richness, and economy.

Starting point is 05:04:23 The churches, and they were numerous and splendid in the university, and they were graded there also in all the ages of architecture, from the round arches of San Julien to the pointed arches of St. Severin. The churches dominated the whole. And, like one harmony more in this mass of harmonies, they pierced in quick succession the multiple open work of the gables with slashed spires, with open-work bell towers with slender pinnacles, whose line was also only a magnificent exaggeration of the acute angle of the roofs. The ground of the university was hilly.

Starting point is 05:05:06 Mount Saint-Javier formed an enormous mound to the south, and it was a sight to see from the summit of Notre Dame how that throng of narrow and tortuous streets, today the Latin quarter, whose bunches of houses, which spread out in every direction, from the top of this eminence, precipitated themselves in disorder, and almost perpendicularly down its flanks, nearly to the water's edge, having the air, some of falling, others of clambering up again, and all of holding to one another. A continual flux of a thousand black points,

Starting point is 05:05:41 which passed each other on the pavements, made everything move before the eyes. It was the populace seen thus from aloft and afar. Lastly, in the intervals of these roofs, of these spires, of these accidents of numberless edifices, which bent and writhed and jagged in so eccentric a manner the extreme line of the university, one caught a glimpse here and there of a great expanse of moss-grown wall, a thick round tower, a crenellated city gate, shadowing forth the fortress. It was the wall of Philippe Augustus. Beyond, the fields gleamed green. Beyond fled the roads, along which were scattered a few more suburban houses,

Starting point is 05:06:27 which became more infrequent as they became more distant. Some of these Fawbergs were important. There were, first, starting from La Tournelle, the Borgs Saint-Victor, with its one arch-bridge over the Béves, its abbey where one could read the epitaph of Louis Legreau. Epitaphium Ludovici Grosse, and its church with an octagonal spire, flanked with four little bell-towers of the 11th century. A similar one can be seen at a top, it is not yet destroyed. Next, the Borg Saint-Marsault, which already had three churches and one convent.

Starting point is 05:07:07 Then, leaving the mill of the Gobelands and its four white walls on the left, there was the Faubourg Saint-Jacques, with the beautiful carved cross and a little. square. The Church of Saint-Jacques du Hoppa, which was then Gothic, pointed, charming. Saint-Marois, a fine knave of the 14th century, which Napoleon turned into a hayloft. Notre Dame de Champ, where there were Byzantine mosaics. Lastly, after having left behind, full in the country, the monastery Des Chartreau, a rich edifice contemporary with the Pelle de justice, with its little garden divided into compartments, and the haunted ruins of Valverre. The eye fell to the west upon the three Roman spires of Saint-Germain-de-Praix.

Starting point is 05:07:56 The Borgs Saint-Germain, already a large community, formed 15 or 20 streets in the rear. The pointed bell of Saint-Soul-Pice marked one corner of the town. Close beside it, one described the quadrilateral enclosure of the fair of Saint-Germain, where the market is situated today. Then the abbot's pillory, a pretty little round tower, well capped with a leaden cone. The brickyard was further on,

Starting point is 05:08:24 and the rue de foor, which led to the common bakehouse, and the mill on its hillock, and the Lazar house, a tiny house, isolated and half-seen. But that which attracted the eye most of all, and fixed it for a long time on that point, was the Abbey itself.

Starting point is 05:08:42 It is certain that, this monastery, which had a grand air, both as a church and as a seigny, that a basial palace where the bishops of Paris counted themselves happy if they could pass the night. That refectory upon which the architect had bestowed the air, the beauty, and the rose window of a cathedral. That elegant chapel of the Virgin, that monumental dormitory, those vast gardens, that Port Cullus, drawbridge, that envelope of battlements which notched to the eye the verger of the surrounding meadows. Those courtyards were gleamed men-at-arms intermingled with golden copes.

Starting point is 05:09:25 The whole grouped and clustered about three lofty spires with round arches, well-planted upon a Gothic apse, made a magnificent figure against the horizon. When, at length, after having contemplated the university for a long time, you turn towards the right bank, towards the town, the character of the spectacle was abruptly altered. The town, in fact much larger than the university, was also less of a unit. At the first glance, one saw that it was divided into many masses, singularly distinct. First, to the eastward, in that part of the town which still takes its name, from the marsh where the Camulogne entangled Caesar was a pile of palaces.

Starting point is 05:10:12 The block extended to the very water's edge. Four, almost contiguous hotel, Jeue, Sands, Barbot, the House of the Queen, mirrored their slate peaks, broken their slender turrets in the same. These four edifices filled the space from the Rue de Nondiere to the Abbey of the Celestins, whose spire gracefully relieved their line of gables and battlements. A few miserable, greenish hovels, hanging over the water in front of the sumptuous hotel, did not prevent one from seeing the fine angles of their facades, their large square windows with stone mullions, their pointed porches overloaded with statues, the vivid outlines of their

Starting point is 05:10:57 walls, always clear-cut, and all those charming accidents of architecture, which cause Gothic art to have the air of beginning in its combinations afresh with every monument. Behind these palaces extended in all directions, now broken, fenced in, battlemented like a citadel, now veiled by great trees like a Carthusian convent, the immense and multiform enclosure of that miraculous Hotel de Saint-Paul, where the King of France possessed the means of lodging superbly, two and twenty princes of the rank of the dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy, with their domestics and their suites, without counting the great lords, and the emperor when he came to view Paris,

Starting point is 05:11:44 and the lions, who had their separate hotel at the Royal Hotel. Let us say here that a prince's apartment was then composed of never less than eleven large rooms, from the Chamber of State to the oratory, not to mention the galleries, baths, vapor baths, and other superfluous places, with which each apartment was provided. Not to mention the private gardens for each of the King's guests. Not to mention the kitchens, the cellars, the domestic offices, the general refractories of the house, the poultry-yards where there were twenty-two general laboratories, from the bake-houses to the wine-cellers, games of a thousand sorts, malls, tennis, and riding at the ring.

Starting point is 05:12:31 King, aviaries, fishponds, menageries, stables, barns, libraries, arsenals, and foundries. This was what a king's palace, a Louvre, a Hotel de Saint-Pol, was then, a city within a city. From the tower where we are placed, the Hotel St. Paul, almost half hidden by the four great houses of which we have just spoken, was still very considerable and very marvelous to see. One could there distinguish, very well, though cleverly united with the principal building by long galleries, decked with painted glass and slender columns, the three hotel which Charles V had amalgamated with his palace. The Hotel to Petit Moussay, with the airy balustrade, which formed a graceful border to its roof. The hotel of the Abbe de Saint-Mar, having the

Starting point is 05:13:31 vanity of a stronghold, a great tower, machuculations, loopholes, iron gratings, and over the large Saxon door, the armorial bearings of the abbe between the two mortices of the drawbridge. The Hotel of the Comte d'Amp, whose dungeon keep ruined at its summit, was rounded and notched like a coxcomb. Here and there, three or four ancient oaks, forming a tough together like enormous cauliflowers. Gambles of swans in the clear water of the fishponds, all in folds of light and shade. Many courtyards of which one beheld picturesque bits. The Hotel of the Lyon, with its low pointed arches on short Saxon pillars, its iron gratings, and its perpetual roar. Shooting up above the hole, the scale ornamented spire of the Ave Maria. On the left, the house of the house

Starting point is 05:14:30 of the provost of Paris, flanked by four small towers, delicately grooved in the middle. At the extremity, the Hotel St. Paul, properly speaking, with its multiplied facades, its successive enrichments from the time of Charles V, the hybrid excresences, with which the fancy of the architects had loaded it during the last two centuries, with all the abses of its chapels, all the gables of its galleries, a thousand weather-cocks for the four, winds and its two lofty contiguous towers, whose conical roof, surrounded by battlements at its base, looked like those pointed caps which have their edges turned up. Continuing to mount the stories of this amphitheater of palaces spread out afar upon the ground, after crossing a deep

Starting point is 05:15:20 ravine hollowed out of the roofs in the town, which marked the passage of the Rue Saint-Antoine, the eye reached the house of Angoulin, a vast construction. of many epics, where there were perfectly new and very white parts, which melted no better into the hole than a red patch on a blue doublet. Nevertheless, the remarkably pointed and lofty roof of the modern palace, bristling with carved eaves, covered with sheets of lead, where coiled a thousand fantastic arabesques of sparkling encrustations of gilded bronze. That roof, so curiously damascened, darted upwards, graced. from the midst of the brown ruins of the ancient edifice, whose huge and ancient towers, rounded

Starting point is 05:16:07 by age-like casks, sinking together with old age, and rending themselves from top to bottom, resembled great bellies unbuttoned. Behind rose the forest of spires of the Palais de Tournelle. Not a view in the world, either at Chambord or at the Alhambra, is more magic, more aerial, more enchanting than that thicket of spires, tiny bell-towers, chimneys, weather-vanes, winding staircases, lanterns through which the daylight makes its way, which seemed to cut out at a blow, pavilions, spindle-shaped turrets, or, as they were called then, tournells, all differing in form, in height, and attitude. One would have pronounced it a gigantic stone chessboard. To the right of the tournell, that

Starting point is 05:16:57 that truss of enormous towers, black as ink, running into each other and tied, as it were, by a circuit or moat. That dungeon-keep, much more pierced with loopholes than with windows. That drawbridge always raised. That portcullis always lowered, is the Bastille. Those sorts of black beaks which project from between the battlements and which you take from a distance to be cave-spouts are cannons. Beneath them, at the foot of the formidable edifice, behold the Port Saint-Antoine buried between its two towers. Beyond the Tournelle, as far as the wall of Charles V, spread out with rich compartments of verdure and of flowers, a velvet carpet of cultivated land and royal parks, in the midst of which,

Starting point is 05:17:49 one recognized by its labyrinth of trees and alleys, the famous deadiless garden which Louis XI 11th had given to Quatier. The doctor's observatory rose above the labyrinth like a great isolated column, with a tiny house for a capital. Terrible astrologies took place in that laboratory. There today is the Place Royale. As we have just said, the quarter of the palace, of which we have just endeavored to give the reader some idea by indicating only the chief points, fill the angle with Charles V's wall made with the seine on the east. The center of the town was occupied by a pile of houses for the populace.

Starting point is 05:18:31 It was there, in fact, that the three bridges disgorged upon the right bank, and the bridges led to the building of houses rather than palaces. That congregation of bourgeois habitations, pressed together like cells in a hive, had a beauty of its own. It is with the roofs of a capital as with the waves of the sea. They are grand. First, the streets, crossed and entangled, forming a hundred amusing figures in the block. Around the marketplace it was like a star with a thousand rays.

Starting point is 05:19:08 The Ruse Saint-Dainé and St. Martin, with their innumerable ramifications, rose one after the other, like trees intertwining their branches. And then the tortuous lines, the Rues de la Platery, della Verreux, della ticirandery, etc., meandered overall. There were also fine edifices which pierced the petrified undulations of that sea of gables. At the head of the Pontot-Changer's, behind which one beheld the sain foaming beneath the wheels of the Pont-O-Money, there was the Chalelais, no longer a Roman tower, as under Julian the apostate, but a feudal tower of the 13th century, and of a stone so hard, that the pickaxe could not break away so much as the thickness of the fist in a space of three hours.

Starting point is 05:20:03 There was the rich square bell-tower of Saint-Jacques de la Boucherie, with its angles all frothing with carvings, already admirable, although it was not finished in the 15th century. It lacked in particular the four monsters, which, still perched today on the corners of its roof, have the air of so many sphinxes, who are propounding to New Paris the riddle of the ancient Paris. Réot, the sculptor, only placed them in position in 1526, and received twenty francs for his pains. There was the Messon-au-Pilliers, the pillar-house, opening upon the Place de Greve, of which we have given the reader some idea.

Starting point is 05:20:48 There was Saint-Gervais, which a front, in good taste, has since spoiled. Saint-Marie, whose ancient pointed arches were still almost round arches. Saint-Jean, whose magnificent spire was proverbial. There were twenty other monuments which did not disdain to bury their wonders in that chaos of black, deep, narrow streets. Add the crosses of carved stone, more lavishly scattered through the squares than even the gibbets. The cemetery of the innocents, whose architectural wall could be seen in the distance above the roofs. The pillory of the markets, whose top was visible between two chimneys of the Rue de la Cossonari, the ladder of the Croix de Trahua, in its square always black with people, the circular buildings of the Wheatmart,

Starting point is 05:21:46 the fragments of Philippe Augustus's ancient wall, which could be made out here and there, drowned among the houses, its towers gnawed by ivy, its gates in ruins, with crumbling and deformed stretches of wall. The key, with its thousand shops, and its bloody knackers yards. The seine, encumbered with boats from the Port-A-Foin to Port Lavec, and you will have a confused picture of what the central trapezium of the town was like in 1482. With these two-quarters, one of Hotel, the other of houses, the third feature of aspect presented by the city was a long zone of abbeys, which bordered it in nearly the whole of its circumference, from the rising to the setting sun, and behind the circle of fortifications which hemmed in Paris, formed a second interior

Starting point is 05:22:41 enclosure of convents and chapels. Thus, immediately adjoining the Park de Tournelle between the Rue Saint-Etoine and the Ville Rue de Tampela, there stood St. Catherine, with its immense cultivated lands, which were terminated only by the wall of Paris. Between the old and the new Rue de Tampela, there was the Tampla, a sinister group of towers, lofty, erect, and isolated in the middle of a vast battlement enclosure. Between the Rue Nouve de Tampela and the Rue St. Martin, there was the Abbey of St. Martin, in the midst of its gardens, a superb fortified church, whose girdle of towers, whose diadem of bell towers yielded in force and splendor only to Saint-Germain-Depre.

Starting point is 05:23:32 Between the Rue St. Martin and the Rue St. Deney spread the enclosure of the Trinette. Lastly, between the Rue St. D'Anne and the Rue Montorgue stood the Filet-Di-Ure. On one side the rotting roofs and unpaved enclosure of the Coeur de Miracla could be described. It was the sole profane ring which was linked to that devout chain of convents. Finally, the fourth compartment, which stretched itself out in the agglomeration of the roofs on the right bank, and which occupied the western angle of the enclosure and the banks of the river downstream, was a fresh cluster of palaces and hotel pressed close about. the base of the Louvre.

Starting point is 05:24:18 This old Louvre of Philippe Augustus, that immense edifice, whose great tower, rallied about it three and twenty chief towers, not to reckon the lesser towers, seemed from a distance to be enshrined in the Gothic roofs of the Hotel de Elinsohn and the Petit Bourbon. This hydra of towers, giant guardian of Paris, with its four and twenty heads, always erect, with its monstrous haunches, loaded or scaled with slates, and all streaming with metallic reflections, terminated with wonderful effect the configuration of the town towards the west. Thus, an immense block, which the Romans called Iosula, or island, of bourgeois houses,

Starting point is 05:25:07 flanked on the right and the left by two blocks of palaces, crowned, the one by the Louvre, the other by the Tournel, bordered on the north by a long girdle of abbeys and cultivated enclosures, all amalgamated and melted together in one view. Upon these thousands of edifices, whose tiled and slated roofs outlined upon each other so many fantastic chains, the bell towers, tattooed, fluted, and ornamented with twisted bands, of the four and forty churches on the right bank. Myriads of cross streets. Four boundary on one side, an enclosure of lofty, walls with square towers, that of the university had round towers. On the other, the same, cut by bridges,

Starting point is 05:25:52 and bearing on its bosom a multitude of boats. Behold the town of Paris in the 15th century. Beyond the walls, several suburban villages pressed close about the gates, but less numerous and more scattered than those of the university. Behind the Bastille there were twenty hovels, cluster round the curious sculptures of the Croix Fobin and the flying buttresses of the Abbey of St. Antoine Descham. Then Popencourt, lost amid wheat fields. Then La Courtee, a merry village of wine-shops. The hamlet of Saint-Laure, with its church, whose bell-tower, from afar, seemed to add

Starting point is 05:26:38 itself to the pointed towers of the Port-Smartin. The Faubourg, Saint-Dené, with the vast enclosure of San Ladra. Beyond the Montmartre gate, the Grange Battelier, encircled with white walls. Behind it, with its chalky slopes, Montmartra, which had then almost as many churches as windmills, and which has kept only the windmills, for society no longer demands anything but bread for the body. Lastly, beyond the Louvre, the Faubourg Saint-Annaire, already considerable at that time, could be seen stretching away into the fields, and Petit-Proton gleaming green, and the Marchet-O-Poursault spreading abroad, in whose centre swelled the horrible apparatus used for

Starting point is 05:27:31 boiling counterfeiters. Between La Courtee and Saint-Laurent, your eye had already noticed, on the summit of an eminence crouching amid desert plains, a sort of edifice which resembled from a distance a ruined colonnade, mounted upon a basement with its foundation laid bare. This was neither a Parthenon nor a temple of the Olympian Jupiter. It was Mont Fosson. Now, if the enumeration of so many edifices, summary as we have endeavored to make it,

Starting point is 05:28:06 has not shattered in the reader's mind the general image of old Paris, as we have constructed it, we will recapitulate it in a few words. In the center, the island of the city, resembling as to form an enormous tortoise, and throwing out its bridges with tiles for scales, like legs from beneath its gray shell of roofs. On the left, the monolithic trapezium, firm, dense bristling of the university. On the right, the vast, semicircle of the town, much more intermixed with gardens and monuments. The three blocks, city, university, and town, marbled with innumerable streets. Across all, the sane, foster-mother sane, as says Father Debrou,

Starting point is 05:28:54 blocked with islands, bridges, and boats. All about an immense plain, patched with a thousand sorts of cultivated plots, sewn with fine villages. On the left, Yisi, Van Vre, Véryre, Vauderard, Montruge, Gentile, with its round tower and its square tower, etc. On the right, 20 others, from Conflans to Via Leveque. On the horizon, a border of hills arranged in a circle like the rim of the basin. Finally, far away to the east, Vincennes, and its seven quadrangular towers.

Starting point is 05:29:32 To the south, Bicetra, and it. its pointed turrets. To the north, St. Denis and its spire. To the west, St. Cloud and its dungeon keep. Such was the Paris, which the Ravens, who lived in 1482, beheld from the summits of the towers of Notre Dame. Nevertheless, Voltaire said of this city that, before Louis XIV, it possessed but four fine monuments, the dome of the Sarbonne, the Val de Grasse, the modern Louvre, and, I know not what the fourth was, the Luxembourg, perhaps. Fortunately, Voltaire was the author of Candide in spite of this, and in spite of this he is, among all the men who have followed each other in the long series of humanity, the one who has best possessed the diabolical laugh. Moreover,

Starting point is 05:30:22 this proves that one can be a fine genius, and yet understand nothing of an art to which one does not belong. Did not Molière imagined that he was doing Raphael and Michelangelo, and Michelangelo, a very great honor by calling them those mignards of their age. Let us return to Paris and to the 15th century. It was not then merely a handsome city. It was a homogeneous city, an architectural and historical product of the Middle Ages, a chronicle in stone. It was a city formed of two layers only, the Romanesque layer and the Gothic layer,

Starting point is 05:31:00 for the Roman layer had disappeared long before, with the exception of the hot baths of Julian, where it still pierced through the thick crust of the Middle Ages. As for the Celtic layer, no specimens were any longer to be found, even when sinking wells. Fifty years later, when the Renaissance began to mingle with this unity which was so severe and yet so varied, the dazzling luxury of its fantasies and systems, its debasements of Roman round arches, Greek columns, and Gothic bases, its sculptural. It sculptural, which was so tender and so ideal, its peculiar taste for arabesques and acanthus leaves, its architectural paganism, contemporary with Luther. Paris was perhaps still more beautiful,

Starting point is 05:31:48 although less harmonious to the eye and to the thought. But this splendid moment lasted only for a short time. The Renaissance was not impartial. It did not content itself with building. It wished to destroy. It is true that it required. the room. Thus, Gothic Paris was complete only for a moment. Saint-Jacques de la Boucherie had barely been completed when the demolition of the old Louvre was begun. After that, the great city became more disfigured every day. Gothic Paris, beneath which Roman Paris was effaced, was effaced in its turn. But can anyone say what Paris has replaced it? There is the Paris of Catholic. de Medici's at the Tulleries, the Paris of Henri II at the Hotel de V, two edifices still in fine

Starting point is 05:32:42 taste. The Paris of Henri IV at the Place Royale, facades of brick with stone corners and slated roofs, tricoloured houses. The Paris of Louis the 13th at the Val de Grasse, a crushed and squat architecture with vaults like basket handles and something indescribably pot-bellied in the column. and thick set in the dome. The Paris of Louis XIV, in the Invalide, grand, rich, gilded, cold. The Paris of Louis XIV, in Saint-Sulpice, volutes, knots of ribbon, clouds, vermicelli,

Starting point is 05:33:22 and chicory leaves, all in stone. The Paris of Louis XVIth in the Pantheon. St. Peter of Rome, badly copied. The edifice is awkwardly heaped together, which has not amended its lines. The Paris of the Republic, in the School of Medicine, a poor Greek and Roman taste, which resembles the Colosseum or the Parthenon,

Starting point is 05:33:45 as the Constitution of the Year 3 resembles the laws of Minos. It is called in architecture the Messador taste. The Paris of Napoleon and the Place Vendom. This one is sublime, a column of bronze made of cannons. The Paris of the Restoration, at the Boers, a very white colonnade supporting a very smooth freeze. The whole is square and cost

Starting point is 05:34:10 twenty millions. To each of these characteristic monuments there is attached by a similarity of taste, fashion, and attitude, a certain number of houses scattered about in different quarters, and which the eyes of the connoisseur easily distinguishes and furnishes with a date. When one knows how to look, one finds the spirit of a century, and the physiogniour of a king, even in the knocker on a door. The Paris of the present day has then no general physiognomy. It is a collection of specimens of many centuries, and the finest have disappeared. The capital grows only in houses, and what houses?

Starting point is 05:34:50 At the rate at which Paris is now proceeding, it will renew itself every fifty years. Thus, the historical significance of its architecture is being effaced every day. monuments are becoming rarer and rarer, and one seems to see them gradually engulfed by the flood of houses. Our fathers had a Paris of stone. Our sons will have one of plaster. So far as the modern monuments of New Paris are concerned, we would gladly be excused for mentioning them. It is not that we do not admire them as they deserve. The Saint-Jean-Viev of Monsieur Souffle is certainly the finest Savoy cake that has ever been made in stone.

Starting point is 05:35:33 The Palace of the Legion of Honor is also a very distinguished bit of pastry. The dome of the wheat market is an English jockey cap on a grand scale. The towers of Saint-Sulpice are two huge clarinets, and the form is as good as any other. The telegraph, contorted and grimacing, forms an admirable accident upon their roofs. Saint-Rosch has a door which, for magnificence, is comparable only to that of St. Thomas Dakin.

Starting point is 05:36:03 It has also a crucifixion in high relief in a cellar with a son of gilded wood. These things are fairly marvelous. The lantern of the labyrinth of the Gardin de Plante is also very ingenious. As for the Palace of the Bourse, which is Greek as to its colonnade, Roman in the round arches of its doors and windows, of the Renaissance by virtue of its flattened vault, it is, indubitably, a very correct and very pure monument. The proof is that it is crowned with an attic, such as was never seen in Athens,

Starting point is 05:36:38 a beautiful, straight line, gracefully broken here and there by stovepipes. Let us add that if it is according to rule that the architecture of a building should be adapted to its purpose, in such a manner that this purpose shall be immediately apparent from the mere aspect of the building, one cannot be too much amazed at a structure which might be indifferently. The palace of a king, a chamber of communes, a town hall, a college, a writing school, an academy, a warehouse, a courthouse, a museum, a barracks, a sepulchre, a temple, or a theater. However, it is an exchange. An edifice ought to be, moreover, suitable to the climate.

Starting point is 05:37:22 This one is evidently constructed expressly for our cold and rainy skies. It has a roof almost as flat as roofs in the east, which involves sweeping the roof in winter when it snows, and of course roofs are made to be swept. As for its purpose, of which we just spoke, it fulfills it to a marvel. It is a Boers in France, as it would have been a temple in Greece. It is true that the architect was at a good deal of trouble to conceal the clock-face, which would have destroyed the purity of the fine lines of the façade, but all the architect was at a good deal of odd, but on the other hand, we have that colonnade which circles round the edifice, and under which, on days of high religious ceremony, the theories of the stockbrokers and the courtiers of the

Starting point is 05:38:06 commerce can be developed so majestically. These are very superb structures. Let us add a quantity of fine, amusing, and varied streets, like the Rue de Rivoli, and I do not despair of Paris presenting to the eye, when viewed from a balloon, that richness of line, that opulence of detail, that diversity of aspect, that grandiose something in the simple and unexpected in the beautiful, which characterizes a checkerboard. However admirable as the Paris of today may seem to you, reconstruct the Paris of the 15th century, call it up before you in thought, look at that sky, athwart that surprising forest of spires, towers, and belfries, spread out in the

Starting point is 05:38:53 center of the city. Tear away at the point of the islands, fold at the arches of the bridges, the same with its broad green and yellow expanses, more variable than the skin of a serpent. Project clearly against an azure horizon the Gothic profile of this ancient Paris. Make its contour float in a winter's mist which clings to its numerous chimneys. Drown it in profound night and watch the odd play of lights and shadows in. in that somber labyrinth of edifices. Cast upon it a ray of light which shall vaguely outline it, and cause to emerge from the fog the great heads of the towers.

Starting point is 05:39:35 Or take that black silhouette again, enliven with shadow the thousand acute angles of the spires and gables, and make it start out more toothed than a shark's jaw against a copper-colored western sky, and then compare. And if you wish to receive of the ancient city an impression with which the modern one can no longer furnish you, climb, on the morning of some grand festival beneath the rising sun of Easter or of Pentecost, climb upon some elevated point whence you command the entire capital, and be present at the awakening of the chimes. Behold, at a signal given from heaven, for it is the sun which gives it

Starting point is 05:40:17 all those churches quiver simultaneously. First come scattered strokes, running from one church to another, as when musicians give warning that they are about to begin. Then, all at once, behold, for it seems at times as though the ear also possessed a sight of its own. Behold, rising from each bell-tower, something like a column of sound, a cloud of harmony. First, the vibration of each bell mounts straight upwards, pure and, so to speak, isolated from the others, into the splendid morning sky. Then, little by little, as they swell, they melt together, mingle, are lost in each other, and amalgamate in a magnificent concert.

Starting point is 05:41:06 It is no longer anything but a mass of sonorous vibrations, incessantly sent forth from the numerous bell-frees. Floats, undulates, bounds, whirls over the city, prolongs far beyond the horizon the deafening circle of its oscillations. Nevertheless, this sea of harmony is not chaos. Great and profound as it is, it is not lost in its transparency. You behold the windings of each group of notes which escapes from the belfries. You can follow the dialogue by turns grave and shrill of the treble and the base. You can see the octaves leap from one tower to another. You watch them spring forth, winged, light, and whistling from the silver bell, to fall, broken, and limping from the bell of wood.

Starting point is 05:41:58 You admire in their midst the rich gamut, which incessantly ascends and re-ascends the seven bells of Saint-Eustache. You see light and rapid notes running across it, executing three or four luminous zigzags, and vanishing like flashes of lightning. Yonder is the abbey of San Martin, a shrill, cracked singer. Here, the gruff and gloomy voice of the Bastille. At the other end, the great tower of the Louvre with its base. The royal chime of the palace scatters on all sides, and without relaxation resplendent trills upon which fall, at regular intervals,

Starting point is 05:42:38 the heavy strokes from the belfry of Notre Dame, which makes them sparkle like the anvil under the hammer. At intervals you behold the passage of sounds of all forms which come from the triple peal of Saint-Germand-de-Prey. Then again, from time to time, this mass of sublime noises opens and gives passage to the beats of the Ave Maria, which bursts forth and sparkles like an agret of stars.

Starting point is 05:43:07 Below, in the very depths of the concert, you confusedly distinguish the interior chanting of the churches, which exhales through the vibrating pores of their vaulted roofs. Assuredly, this is an opera which it is worth the trouble of listening to. Ordinarily, the noise which escapes from Paris by day is the city speaking. By night it is the city breathing. In this case, it is the city singing. Lend an ear, then, to this concert of bell-towers.

Starting point is 05:43:40 Spread over all the murmur of half a million men, the eternal plaint of the river, the infinite breathings of the wind, the grave and distant quartet of the four forests arranged upon the hills, on the horizon like immense stacks of organ pipes. Extinguish, as in a half-shade, all that is too hoarse and too shrill about the center chime, and say whether you know anything in the world more rich and joyful, more golden, more dazzling, than this tumult of bells and chimes, than this furnace of music. Than these ten thousand brazen voices chanting simultaneously in the flutes of stone, three hundred feet high, than this city, which is no longer anything but an orchestra,

Starting point is 05:44:28 than this symphony which produces the noise of a tempest. End of Book 3, Chapter 2. Book 4, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 4, Chapter 1, Good Souls. 16 years previous to the epic when this story takes place, one fine morning, on Quasimodo Sunday, a living creature had been deposited, after Mass, in the Church of Notre Dame, on the wood bed securely fixed in the vestibule on the left, opposite that great image of St. Christopher, which the figure of Monsieur Antoine de Eschart, Chevalier, carved in stone, had been gazing at

Starting point is 05:45:28 on his knee since 1413, when they took it into their heads to overthrow the saint and the faithful follower. Upon this bed of wood it was customary to expose foundlings for public charity. Whoever cared to take them did so. In front of the wooden bed, was a copper basin for alms. The sort of living being which lay upon that plank on the morning of Quasimodo, in the year of the Lord, 1467, appeared to excite to a high degree the curiosity of the numerous group which had congregated about the wooden bed. The group was formed for the most part of the fair sex. Hardly anyone was there except old women. In the first row, and among those who were most bent over the bed, four were noticeable.

Starting point is 05:46:16 who, from their gray cagoulet, a sort of cacic, were recognizable as attached to some devout sisterhood. I do not see why history has not transmitted to posterity the names of these four discreet and venerable damsels. They were Agnes La Hermé, Jean de la Tarmey, Henriette La Gautier, Goncher La Violette, all four widows, all four dames of the chapel Etienne Audry, who had quitted their house with the permission of their mistress, and in conformity with the statutes of Pierre Dali in order to come and hear the sermon. However, if these good Odriettes were, for the moment, complying with the statutes of Pierre Dali, they certainly violated with joy those of Michel de Brach and the Cardinal of Pisa,

Starting point is 05:47:08 which so inhumanly enjoined silence upon them. "'What is this sister?' said Agnes to Gossier, gazing at the little creature exposed, which was screaming and writhing on the wooden bed, terrified by so many glances. "'What is to become of us?' said Jehan. If that is the way children are made now. "'I'm not learned in the matter of children,' resumed Agnes. "'But it must be a sin to look at this one.

Starting point is 05:47:38 "'Tis not a child, Agnes.' "'Tis an abortion of a monkey,' remarked Gosher. "'Tis a miracle,' interposed Henriette La Gautier. "'Then,' remarked Agnes, "'it is the third since the Sunday of the Loitare, "'for in less than a week we had the miracle of the Mocker of the Pilgrims "'divinely punished by Notre Dame Daubervilleier, "'and that was the second miracle within a month.

Starting point is 05:48:06 "'This pretended founding is a real monster of abomination,' resumed Jehan. "'He yells loud enough to defen a judge. Chanter, continued Goucère. Hold your tongue, you little howler. To think that Monsieur of Rhyme sent this enormity to Monsieur of Paris, added La Gautier clasping her hands. "'I imagine,' said Agnes La Hermay, "'that it is a beast, an animal,

Starting point is 05:48:33 "'the fruit of a Jew and a sow, "'something not Christian, in short, "'which ought to be thrown into the fire or into the water. I really hope, resumed La Gautier, that nobody will apply for it. Ah, good heavens! exclaimed Agnes. Those poor nurses yonder in the foundling asylum, which forms the lower end of the lane as you go to the river just beside Monseigneur the bishop. What if this little monster were to be carried to them to suckle?

Starting point is 05:49:06 I'd rather give suck to a vampire. How innocent that poor La Ereme is! Zhehan, don't you see, sister, that this little monster is at least four years old, and that he would have less appetite for your breast than for a turn-spit? The little monster, we should find it difficult ourselves to describe him otherwise, was in fact not a newborn child. It was a very angular and very lively little mass, imprisoned in its linen sack, stamped with the cipher of Monsieur Gé-Gayom Chautier, then Bishop of Paris, with a head projecting.

Starting point is 05:49:45 That head was deformed enough. One beheld only a forest of red hair, one eye, a mouth, and teeth. The eye wept, the mouth cried, and the teeth seemed to ask only to be allowed to bite. The whole struggled in the sack, to the great consternation of the crowd, which increased and was renewed incessantly around it. Dame Alois de Gondolourier, a rich and noble woman who held by the hand a pretty girl about five or six years of age, and dragged a long veil about, suspended to the golden horn of her headdress, halted as she passed the wooden bed, and gazed for a moment at the wretched creature, while her charming little daughter,

Starting point is 05:50:28 Flour de Gondolier spelled out with her tiny pretty finger the permanent inscription attached to the wooden bed. foundlings. Really, said the dame, turning away in disgust, I thought that they only exposed children here. She turned her back, throwing into the basin a silver florin, which rang among the liards, and made the poor goodwives of the chapel of Etienne-Odry opened their eyes. A moment later, the grave and lureded Robert Mistricot,

Starting point is 05:51:00 the king's proto-notary, passed, with an enormous missile under one arm, and his wife on the other, Damoiselle Guillaumet La Mares, having thus by his side his two regulators, spiritual and temporal. Foundling, he said after examining the object, found, apparently, on the banks of the river flagathon. One can only see one eye, observed Damoiselle Guillaumet. There is a wart on the other. It is not a wart, returned Master Robert Mr. Co. It is an egg which contains another demon exactly similar, who bears another little egg which contains another devil, and so on. How do you know that? asked Guillaumet Lamaress.

Starting point is 05:51:50 I know it pertinently, replied the protanotory. Monsieur le Protonotere, asked Goucée, asked Goucère. What do you prognosticate of this pretended foundling? "'The greatest misfortunes,' replied Mr. Coe. "'Ah, good heavens!' said an old woman among the spectators. "'And that, besides our having had a considerable pestilence last year, and that they say that the English are going to disembark in a company at our fleur. "'Perhaps that will prevent the Queen from coming to Paris in the month of September,'

Starting point is 05:52:27 interposed another. "'Trade is so bad already.' "'My opinion is,' exclaimed Jeanne de la Tourmet, "'that it would be better for the louts of Paris "'if this little magician were put to bed on a faggot "'than on a plank. "'A fine flaming faggot,' added the old woman. "'It would be more prudent,' said Mr. Coe.

Starting point is 05:52:51 "'For several minutes a young priest "'have been listening to the reasoning of the Odriettes "'and the sentences of the notary. "'He had a severe face with a large bra, a profound glance. He thrust the crowd silently aside, scrutinized the little magician, and stretched out his hand upon him. It was high time, for all the devotees had already licked their chops over the fine flaming faggot. "'I adopt this child,' said the priest. He took it in his cassock and carried it off. The

Starting point is 05:53:25 spectators followed him with frightened glances. A moment later he had disappeared through the red door, which then led from the church to the cloister. When the first surprise was over, Jehan de la Tarme bent down to the ear of La Gautier. I told you, sister, that young clerk, Monsieur Claude Frollo, is a sorcerer. End of Book 4, Chapter 1. Book 4, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 4 Chapter 2. Claude Frollo

Starting point is 05:54:13 In fact, Claude Frollo was no common person. He belonged to one of those middle-class families, which were called, indifferently, in the impertinent language of the last century, the high bourgeois, or the petty nobility. This family had inherited from the brothers Pac-Clae the fief of Tir-Chape, which was dependent upon the bishop of Paris, and whose 21 houses had been in the 13th century the object of so many suits before the official. As possessor of this fief, Claude Frollo was one of the 27 seigneurs, keeping claim to a manner in Fee in Paris and its suburbs. And for a long time, his name was to be seen inscribed

Starting point is 05:54:59 in this quality, between the Hotel de Tancarvi belonging to Master Francois Le Rey and the College of Tours, in the records deposited at Saint-Martin-de-Champ. Claude Frollo had been destined from infancy by his parents to the ecclesiastical profession. He had been taught to read in Latin. He had been trained to keep his eyes on the ground and to speak low. While still a child, his father had cloistered him in the College of Torchi in the university. There it was that he had grown up on the missile and the lexicon. Moreover, he was a sad, grave, serious child, who studied ardently and he had studied ardently and and learned quickly. He never uttered a loud cry in recreation hour, mixed but little in the

Starting point is 05:55:46 bacchanals of the Rue da Fuare, did not know what it was to Dari alapas at Capilos Lanieri, and cut no figure in that revolt of 1463, which the analysts register gravely under the title of the sixth trouble of the university. He seldom rallied the poor students of Montague on the capets, from which they derive their name, or the bursers of the College of Dormans on their shaved tonsure, and their certu, party-colored of bluish-green, blue and violet cloth, Azorini Coleris et Bruni, as says the charter of the Cardinal des Quatre Coron. On the other hand, he was assiduous at the great and the small schools of the Roussaint-Jean de Beauvais.

Starting point is 05:56:31 The first pupil, whom the Abbe de Saint-Pier-Deval, at the moment of beginning his reading on canon law, always perceived, glued to a pillar of the school Saint-Vendragisiel, opposite his rostrum, was Claude Frollo, armed with his horn ink-bottle, biting his pen, scribbling on his thread bare knee, and in winter, blowing on his fingers. The first auditor, whom Monsieur Mildilié, doctor in decredals, saw arrive every Monday morning, all breathless at the opening of the gates of the school of the chef Sandinie was Claude Frollo. Thus, at 16 years of age, the young clerk might have held his own, in mystical theology, against a father of the church, in canonical theology against a father of the councils, in scholastic theology against a doctor of the Sorbonne.

Starting point is 05:57:26 Theology conquered, he had plunged into decredals. From the master of sentences he had passed to the capitularies of Charlemagne, and he had devoured in succession, in his appetite for science, decretals upon decreedles, those of Theodore, Bishop of Hispolis, those of Bouchard, Bishop of Worms, those of Eves, Bishop of Chartre. Next, the Decretal of Gratian, which succeeded the capitularies of Charlemagne. Then the collection of Gregory the Ninth, then the Epistle of Superspecula of Honorius III. He rendered clear and familiar to himself that vast and tumultuous period of civil law and canon law in conflict and at strife with each other in the chaos of the Middle Ages, a period

Starting point is 05:58:15 which Bishop Theodore opens in 618 and which Pope Gregory closes in 1227. De Cretals digested, he flung himself upon medicine on the liberal arts. He studied the science of herbs, the science of unguents. became an expert in fevers and in contusions, in sprains and abscesses. Jacques Despar would have received him as a physician, Richard Helene as a surgeon. He also passed through all the degrees of licentiate, master and doctor of arts. He studied the languages, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, a triple sanctuary then very little frequented. His was a veritable fever for acquiring and hoarding in the matter of science. At the age of 18 he had made his way through the four faculties.

Starting point is 05:59:08 It seemed to the young man that life had but one sole object. Learning. It was towards this epic that the excessive heat of the summer of 1466 caused that grand outburst of the plague, which carried off more than 40,000 souls in the vicomte of Paris, and among others, as Jean de Traier states, Master Arnault, astrologer to the king, who was a very fine man, both wise and pleasant. The rumor spread in the university that the Rue Tirchapé was especially devastated by the malady. It was there that Claude's parents resided, in the midst of their fief. The young scholar rushed in great alarm to the paternal mansion. When he entered it, he found

Starting point is 05:59:55 that both father and mother had died on the preceding day. A very young brother of his, who was in swaddling clothes, was still alive, and crying, abandoned in his cradle. This was all that remained to Claude of his family. The young man took the child under his arm and went off in a pensive mood. Up to that moment he had lived only in science. He now began to live in life. This catastrophe was a crisis in Claude's existence. Orphaned, the eldest head of the family at the age of nineteen, he felt himself rudely recalled from the reveries of school to the realities of this world. Then, moved with pity, he was seized with passion and devotion towards that child, his brother. A sweet and strange thing was a human affection to him, who had hitherto loved his books alone.

Starting point is 06:00:51 This affection developed to a singular point. In a soul so new, it was like a first love, separated since infancy from his parents, whom he had hardly known, cloistered and immured, as it were, in his books, eager above all things to study and to learn, exclusively attentive up to that time to his intelligence which broadened in science, to his imagination, which expanded in letters. The poor scholar had not yet had time to feel the place of his heart. This young brother, without mother or father, this little child which had fallen abruptly from heaven into his arms, made a new man of him. He perceived that there was something else in the world

Starting point is 06:01:39 besides the speculations of the Sarbonne and the verses of Homer, that man needed affections, that life without tenderness and without love was only a set of dry, shrieking, and rending wheels. Only he imagined, for he was at the age when illusions, are as yet replaced only by illusions, that the affections of blood and family were the sole ones necessary, and that a little brother to love suffice to fill an entire existence. He threw himself, therefore, into the love for his little Jahan with the passion of a character already profound, ardent, concentrated. That poor, frail creature, pretty, fair-haired,

Starting point is 06:02:25 rosy and curly. That orphan, with another orphan for his only support, touched him to the bottom of his heart. And, grave thinker as he was, he was set to meditating upon Jehan with an infinite compassion. He kept watch and ward over him as over something very fragile and very worthy of care. He was more than a brother to the child. He became a mother to him. Little Jehan had lost his mother while he was still at the breast. Claude gave him to a nurse. Besides the fief of Tirchapé, he had inherited from his father the fief of Moulin, which was a dependency of the square tower of Gentile.

Starting point is 06:03:10 It was a mill on a hill, near the chateau of Winchester, Bessetra. There was a miller's wife there who was nursing a fine child. It was not far from the university, and Claude Carrier, the little Jehant to her in his own arms. From that time forth, feeling that he had a burden to bear, he took life very seriously. The thought of his little brother became not only his recreation, but the object of his studies. He resolved to consecrate himself entirely to a future for which he was responsible in the sight of God, and never to have any other wife, any other child than the happiness and fortune of his brother.

Starting point is 06:03:52 Therefore, he attached himself more closely than ever to the clerical profession. His merits, his learning, his quality of immediate vassal of the Bishop of Paris through the doors of the Church wide open to him. At the age of twenty, by special dispensation of the Holy See, he was a priest, and served as the youngest of the chaplains of Notre Dame, the altar which is called, because of the late Mass which is said there, Altari Pigerorum. There, plunged more deeply than ever in his dear books, which he quitted only to run for an hour to the fief of Moulin, this mixture of learning and austerity, so rare at his age, had promptly acquired for him the respect and admiration of the monastery. From the cloister his reputation as a learned man had passed to the people, among whom it had changed a little, a frequent occurrence at that time into reputation as a sorcerer.

Starting point is 06:04:51 It was at the moment when he was returning on Quasimodo Day from saying his mass at the altar of the lazy, which was by the side of the door leading to the nave on the right, near the image of the Virgin, that his attention had been attracted by the group of old women chattering around the bed for foundlings. Then it was that he approached the unhappy little creature, which was so hated and so menaced. That distress, that deformity, that abandonment, the thought of his young brother, the idea which suddenly occurred to him that if he were to die, his dear little Jehan might also be flung miserably on the plank for foundlings. All this had gone to his heart simultaneously. A great pity had moved in him, and he had carried

Starting point is 06:05:41 off the child. When he removed the child from the sack, he found it greatly deformed, in very sooth. The poor little wretch had a wart on his own. his left eye, his head placed directly on his shoulders, his spinal column was crooked, his breastbone prominent, and his legs bowed. But he appeared to be lively, and although it was impossible to say in what language he lisped, his cry indicated considerable force and health. Claude's compassion increased at the sight of his ugliness, and he made a vow in his heart to reared the child for the love of his brother, in order that whatever might be. be the future faults of the little Jehan, he would have beside him that charity done for his sake.

Starting point is 06:06:28 It was a sort of investment in good works, which he was affecting in the name of his young brother. It was a stock of good works which he wished to amass in advance for him, in case the little rogue should someday find himself short of that coin, the only sort which is received at the toll-bar of paradise. He baptized his adopted. He baptized his adopted. child and gave him the name of Quasimodo, either because he desired thereby to mark the day when he had found him, or because he wished to designate by that name to what a degree the poor little creature was incomplete, and hardly sketched out. In fact, Quasimodo, blind, hunchbacked, knock-kneed, was only and almost.

Starting point is 06:07:18 End of Book 4, Chapter 2. Book 4 Chapter 3 of the Hust hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 4, Chapter 3. Imanis Picoris Custos, Imanior Ipsi. Now, in 1482, Quasimodo had grown up. He had become a few years previously the bell-ringer of Notre Dame, thanks to his father by adoption Claude Frollo, who had become Archdeacon of Jose, thanks to his suzerain, Monsieur Louis de Beaumont, who had become a bishop of Paris at the death of Gailleux-Cartier in 1472, thanks to his patron, Olivier Laddam, Barber to Louis XI 11th, king by the grace of God. So Quasimodo was the ringer of the chimes of Notre Dame.

Starting point is 06:08:24 In the course of time, there had been formed a certain, peculiarly intimate bond which united the ringer to the church. Separated forever from the world by the double fatality of his unknown birth and his natural deformity, imprisoned from his infancy in that impassable double circle, the poor wretch had grown used to seeing nothing in this world beyond the religious walls which had received him under their shadow. Notre Dame had been to him successively, as he grew up and developed, the egg, the nest, the house, the country, the country, and the world, the universe. There was certainly a sort of mysterious and pre-existing harmony between this creature and this church. When, still a little fellow, he had dragged himself tortuously and by jerks

Starting point is 06:09:17 beneath the shadows of its vaults, he seemed, with his human face and his bestial limbs, the natural reptile of that humid and somber pavement, upon which the shadow of the Romanesque capitals cast so many strange forms. Later on, the first time that he caught hold mechanically of the ropes to the towers and hung suspended from them and set the bell to clanging, it produced upon his adopted father, Claude,

Starting point is 06:09:45 the effect of a child whose tongue is unloosed and who begins to speak. It is thus that, little by little, developing always in sympathy with the cathedral, living there, sleeping there, hardly ever leaving it, subject every hour to the mysterious impress, he came to resemble it, he encrusted himself in it, so to speak, and became an integral part of it. His salient angles fitted into the retreating angles of the cathedral, if he may be allowed this

Starting point is 06:10:18 figure of speech, and he seemed not only its inhabitant, but more than that, its natural tenant. One might almost say that he had assumed its form, as the snail takes on the form of its shell. It was his dwelling, his whole, his envelope. There existed between him and the old church, so profound and instinctive sympathy, so many magnetic affinities, so many material affinities,

Starting point is 06:10:48 that he adhered to it somewhat as a tortoise adheres to its shell. The rough and wrinkled cathedral was his shell. It is useless to warn the reader not to take literally all the similes which we are obliged to employ here to express the singular, symmetrical, direct, almost consubstantial union of a man and an edifice. It is equally unnecessary to state to what a degree that the whole cathedral was familiar to him, after so long and so intimate a cohabitation. That dwelling was peculiar to him. It had no depths to which Quasimodo had not penetrated,

Starting point is 06:11:30 no height which he had not scaled. He often climbed many stones up the front, aided solely by the uneven points of the carving. The towers, on whose exterior surface he was frequently seen clambering, like a lizard gliding along a perpendicular wall, those two gigantic twins, so lofty, so menacing, so formidable, possessed for him neither vertigo nor terror nor shocks of amazement. To see them so gentle under his hand, so easy to scale, one would have said that he had tamed

Starting point is 06:12:09 them. By dint of leaping, climbing, gambling amid the abysses of the gigantic cathedral, he had become, in some sort, a monkey and a goat, like the Calabrian child who swims before he walks, and plays with the sea while still a babe. Moreover, it was not his body alone which seemed fashioned after the cathedral, but his mind also. In what condition was that mind? What bent had it contracted? What form had it assumed beneath that knotted envelope in that savage life? This it would be hard to determine.

Starting point is 06:12:50 Quasimoto had been born one-eyed, hunch-backed, lame. It was with great difficulty, and by dint of great patience, that Claude Frollo had succeeded in teaching him to talk. But a fatality was attached to the poor foundling. Bell-ringer of Notre Dame at the age of fourteen, a new infirmity had come to complete his misfortunes. The bells had broken the drums of his ears. He had become deaf. The only gate which nature had left wide open for him, had been abruptly closed and forever. In closing, it had cut off the only ray of joy and of light which still made its way into the soul of Quasimoto. His soul fell into profound night. The wretched being's misery became as incurable and as complete as his deformity.

Starting point is 06:13:46 Let us add that his deafness rendered him to some extent dumb, for in order not to make others laugh, the very moment that he found himself to be deaf, he resolved upon a silence which he only broke when he was alone. He voluntarily tied that tongue which Claude Frollo had taken so much pains to unloose. Hence it came about that, when necessity constrained him to speak, his tongue was torpid, awkward, and like a door whose hinges had grown rusty. If now we were to try to penetrate to the soul of Quasimoto through that thick hard rind, if we could sound the depths of that badly constructed organism, if it were granted to us to look with a torch behind those non-transparent organs

Starting point is 06:14:35 to explore the shadowy interior of that opaque creature, to elucidate his obscure corners, his absurd no thoroughfares, and suddenly to cast a vivid light upon the soul enchained at the extremity of that cave. We should, no doubt, find the unhappy psyche in some poor, cramped, and rickety attitude, like those prisoners beneath the leds of Venice, who grew old, bent double in a stone box, which was both too low and too short for them. It is certain that the mind becomes atrophied in a defective body. Quasimodo was barely conscious of a soul cast in his own image, moving blindly within him.

Starting point is 06:15:21 The impressions of objects underwent a considerable refraction before reaching his mind. His brain was a peculiar medium. The ideas which passed through it issued forth completely distorted. The reflection which resulted from this refraction was necessarily divergent and perverted. Hence a thousand optical illusions, a thousand aberrations of judgment, a thousand deviations which his thoughts strayed, now mad, now idiotic. The first effect of this fatal organization was to trouble the glance which he cast upon things. He received hardly any immediate perception of them.

Starting point is 06:16:05 The external world seemed much farther away to him than it does to us. The second effect of his misfortune was to render him malicious. He was malicious, in fact, because he was savage. He was savage because he was ugly. There was logic in his nature, as there is in ours. His strength, so extraordinarily developed, was a cause of still greater malevolence. Malus puer robustus, says Hobbes. This injustice must, however, be rendered to him.

Starting point is 06:16:42 Malveillance was not perhaps innate in him. From his very first steps among men he had felt himself, Later on, he had seen himself, spewed out, blasted, rejected. Human words were for him always a raillery or a malediction. As he grew up, he had found nothing but hatred around him. He had caught the general malevolence. He had picked up the weapon with which he had been wounded. After all, he turned his face towards men only with reluctance.

Starting point is 06:17:14 His cathedral was sufficient for him. It was peopled with marble figures. Kings, saints, bishops, who at least did not burst out laughing in his face, who gazed upon him only with tranquility and kindliness. The other statues, those of the monsters and demons, cherished no hatred for him, Quasimodo. He resembled them too much for that. They seemed rather to be scoffing at other men. The saints were his friends and blessed him. The monsters were his friends and guarded him. So he held long communion with them. He sometimes passed whole hours crouching before one of these statues in solitary conversation with it. If anyone came,

Starting point is 06:18:01 he fled like a lover surprised in his serenade. And the cathedral was not only society for him, but the universe and all nature beside. He dreamed of no other hedgerows than the painted windows, always in flower, no other shade than that of the foliage of stone which spread out, loaded with birds in the tufts of the Saxon capitals, of no other mountains than the colossal towers of the church, of no other ocean than Paris, roaring at their bases. What he loved above all else in the maternal edifice, that which aroused his soul, and made it open its poor wings, which kept it so miserably folded in its cavern, that which sometimes rendered him even happy, was the bells.

Starting point is 06:18:52 He loved them, fondled them, talked to them, understood them. From the chime in the spire over the intersection of the aisles and the nave to the great bell of the front, he cherished a tenderness for them all. The central spire and the two towers were to him as three great cages, whose birds, reared by himself, sang for him alone. Yet it was these very bells which had made him death, but mothers often love best that child which has caused them the most suffering. It is true that their voice was the only one which he could still hear.

Starting point is 06:19:32 On this score the big bell was his beloved. It was she whom he preferred out of all that family of noisy girls which bustled above him. on festival days. This bell was named Marie. She was alone in the southern tower with her sister Jacqueline, a bell of lesser size, shut up in a smaller cage beside hers. This Jacqueline was so called from the name of the wife of Jean Matagieu, who had given it to the church, which had not prevented his going and figuring without his head at Montfaisonne. In the second tower there were six other bells, and finally six smaller ones inhabited the belfry over the crossing, with the wooden bell, which rang only between after dinner on Good Friday and the morning of the day before Easter.

Starting point is 06:20:23 So Quasimodo had fifteen bells in his serralio, but Big Marie was his favorite. No idea can be formed of his delight on days when the Grand Peel was sounded. At the moment when the archdeacon dismissed him and said, go, he might be made. mounted the spiral staircase of the clock-tower faster than anyone else could have descended it. He entered perfectly breathless into the aerial chamber of the Great Bell. He gazed at her a moment, devoutly and lovingly. Then he gently addressed her and patted her with his hand, like a good horse, which is about to set out on a long journey.

Starting point is 06:21:05 He pitied her for the trouble she was about to suffer. After these first caresses, he shouted to his assistance, placed in the lower story of the tower to begin. They grasped the ropes, the wheel creaked, the enormous capsule of metal started slowly into motion. Quasimodo followed it with his glance and trembled. The first shock of the clapper and the brazen wall made the framework upon which it was mounted quiver. Quasimodo vibrated with the bell.

Starting point is 06:21:39 "'Ah!' he cried, with a senseless burst of laughter. However, the great movement of the base was accelerated, and, in proportion as it described a wider angle, Quasimodo's eye opened also more and more widely, phosphoric and flaming. At length the grand peal began. The whole tower trembled. Woodwork, leads, cut stones, all groaned at once, from the piles of the foundation to the tree foils of the wood-oils.

Starting point is 06:22:09 of its summit. Then Quasimodo boiled and frothed. He went and came. He trembled from head to foot with the tower. The bell, furious, running riot, presented to the two walls of the tower, alternately its brazen throat, whence escaped that tempestuous breath, which is audible leagues away. Quasimodo stationed himself in front of this open throat. He crouched and rose with the oscillations of the bell, breathed in this overwhelming breath, gazed by turns at the deep place which swarmed with people two hundred feet below him, and at that enormous brazen tongue which came second after second to howl in his ear. It was the only speech which he understood, the only sound which broke for him the universal silence. He swelled out in it as a bird does in the sun.

Starting point is 06:23:08 sudden, the frenzy of the bell seized upon him. His look became extraordinary. He lay in wait for the great bell as it passed, as a spider lies in wait for a fly, and flung himself abruptly upon it, with might and main. Then, suspended above the abyss, borne to and fro by the formidable swinging of the bell, he seized the brazen monster by the earlapse, pressed it between both knees, spurred it on with his heels, and redoubled the fury of the peel with the whole shock and weight of his body. Meanwhile, the tower trembled. He shrieked and gnashed his teeth, his red hair rose erect, his breast heaving like a bellows, his eye flashed flames, the monstrous bell neighed, panting beneath him. And then it was no longer the great bell of Notre Dame nor Quasimodo. It was a dream of

Starting point is 06:24:07 a whirlwind, a tempest, dizziness mounted astride of noise, a spirit clinging to a flying crupper, a strange centaur, half man, half bell, a sort of horrible astolphus, born away upon a prodigious hippagriff of living bronze. The presence of this extraordinary being caused, as it were, a breath of life to circulate through the entire cathedral. It seemed as though their escape from him, at least according to the growing superstitions of the crowd, a mysterious emanation which animated all the stones of Notre Dame, and made the deep bowels of the ancient church to palpitate. It sufficed for people to know that he was there, to make them believe that they beheld the thousand statues of the galleries and the fronts in motion.

Starting point is 06:24:58 And the cathedral did indeed seem a docile and obedient creature beneath his hand. It waited on his will to raise its great voice. It was possessed and filled with Quasimodo, as with a familiar spirit. One would have said that he made the immense edifice breathe. He was everywhere about it. In fact, he multiplied himself on all points of the structure. Now, when perceived with a fright at the very top of one of the towers, a fantastic dwarf climbing, writhing, crawling on all fours,

Starting point is 06:25:33 descending outside above the abyss, leaping from projection to projection, and going to ransack the belly of some sculptured gorgon. It was Quasimodo dislodging the crows. Again, in some obscure corner of the church, one came in contact with a sort of living chimera, crouching and scowling. It was Quasimodo engaged in thought. Sometimes one caught sight upon a bell tower of an enormous head and a bundle of disordered limbs swinging furiously at the end of a rope. It was Quasimodo ringing Vespers or the Angelus. Often at night, a hideous form was seen wandering along the frail balustrade of carved lacework, which crowns the towers and borders of the circumference of the apse. Again it was the hunchback of Notre Dame. Then, said the women of the neighborhood,

Starting point is 06:26:31 the whole church took on something fantastic, supernatural, horrible. Eyes and mouths were open here and there. One heard the dogs, the monsters, and the gargoyles of stone, which keep watch night and day, with outstretched neck and open jaws

Starting point is 06:26:50 around the monstrous cathedral barking. And, if it was a Christmas Eve, while the great bell, which seemed to emit the day, death rattle, summoned the faithful to the midnight mass, such an air was spread over the somber façade that one would have declared that the grand portal was devouring the throng, and that the rose window was watching it. And all this came from Quasimodo. Egypt would have taken him for the god of this temple. The Middle Ages believed him to be its demon. He was in fact its soul. To such an

Starting point is 06:27:28 extent was this disease that for those who know that Quasimodo existed, Notre Dame is today deserted, inanimate, dead. One feels that something has disappeared from it. That immense body is empty. It is a skeleton. The spirit has quitted it. One sees its place, and that is all. It is like a skull which still has holes for the eyes, but no longer sight. End of book four. Chapter 3. Book 4, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 4, Chapter 4, The Dog and His Master. Nevertheless, there was one human creature whom Quasimodo accepted from his malice and from his hatred for others, and whom he loved even more perhaps than his cathedral. This was Claudeau.

Starting point is 06:28:37 Frollo. The matter was simple. Claude Frollo had taken him in, had adopted him, had nourished him, had reared him. When a little lad, it was between Claude Frollo's legs that he was accustomed to seek refuge, when the dogs and the children barked after him. Claude Frollo had taught him to talk, to read, to write. Claude Frollo had finally made him the bell-ringer. Now, to give the big bell in marriage to Quasimodo was to give Juliet to Romeo. Hence, Quasimodo's gratitude was profound, passionate, boundless, and although the visage of his adopted father was often clouded or severe, although his speech was habitually curt, harsh, imperious, that gratitude never wavered for a single moment.

Starting point is 06:29:26 The archdeacon had in Quasimodo the most submissive slave, the most docile lackey, the most vigilant of dogs. When the poor bell-ringer became deaf, there had been established between him and Claude Frollo a language of signs, mysterious and understood by themselves alone. In this manner, the archdeacon was the sole human being with whom Quasimodo had preserved communication. He was in sympathy with but two things in this world, Notre Dame and Claude Frollo. There is nothing which can be compared with the empire of the archdeacon over the bell-ringer, with the attachment of the bell-ringer for the archdeacon. A sign from Claude, and the idea of giving him pleasure, would have sufficed to make Quasimodo hurl himself headlong from the summit of Notre Dame.

Starting point is 06:30:19 It was a remarkable thing. All that physical strength which had reached in Quasimodo such an extraordinary development, and which was placed by him blindly at the disposition of another. There was in it, no doubt, filial devotion, domestic attachment. There was also the fascination of one spirit by another spirit. It was a poor, awkward, and clumsy organization, which stood with lowered head and supplicating eyes before a lofty and profound, a powerful and superior intellect. Lastly, and above all, it was gratitude. Gratitude so pushed to its extremist limit that we do not know to what to compare it. This virtue is not one of those of which the finest examples are to be met with among men. We will say then that Quasimodo loved the archdeacon

Starting point is 06:31:17 as never a dog, never a horse, never an elephant loved his master. End of Book 4, Chapter 4. Book 4, Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 4, Chapter 5. More about Claude Frollo. In 1482, Quasimodo was about 20 years of age. Claude Frollo, about 36. One had grown up, the other had grown old. Claude Frollo was no longer the simple scholar of the College of Torch, the tender protector

Starting point is 06:32:10 of a little child, the young and dreamy philosopher who knew many things and was ignorant of many. He was a priest, austere, grave, morose, one charged with souls. Monsieur the Archdeacon of José, the bishop's second acolyte, having charge of the two deaneries of Monterey and Chateau-Four, and 174 country curacies. He was an imposing and somber personage, before whom the choir boys in alb and in jacket trembled, as well as the Mashiko and the brothers of St. Augustine and the matutinal clerks of Notre Dame, when he passed slowly beneath the lofty arches of the choir, majestic, thoughtful, with arms folded and his

Starting point is 06:33:02 head so bent upon his breast that all once saw of his face was his large bald brow. Dom Claude Frollo had, however, abandoned neither science nor the education of his young brother, those two occupations of his life. But as time went on, some bitterness had been mingled with these things which were so sweet. In the long run, says Paul Diacre, the best lard turns rancid. Little Jehan Frollo, surnamed Dumoulin of the mill, because of the place where he had been reared, had not grown up in the direction which Claude would have liked to impose upon him. The Big Brother counted upon a pious, docile, learned, and honorable pupil. But the little brother, like those young trees which deceive the gardener's hopes,

Starting point is 06:33:57 and turn obstinately to the quarter whence they receive sun and air, the little brother did not grow and did not multiply, but only put forth fine, bushy, and luxuriant branches on the side of laziness, ignorance, and debauchery. He was a regular devil and a very disorderly one who made Dom Claude's scowl, but very droll and very subtle, which made the Big Brother smile. Clod had confided him to that same college of Torchee, where he had passed his early years in study and meditation, and it was a grief to him that this sanctuary, formerly edified by the name of Frollo, should today be scandalized by it. He sometimes preached Jahan very long and severe sermons, which the latter intrepidly endured.

Starting point is 06:34:52 After all, the young scapegrace had a good heart, as can be seen in all comedies. But the sermon over, he nonetheless tranquilly resumed the course of seditions and enormities. Now it was a bejean, or yellow beak, as they called the new arrivals at the university, whom he had been mauling by way of welcome, a precious tradition which has been carefully preserved to our own day. Again he had set in movement a band of scholars, who had flung themselves upon a wine shop in classic fashion. Quasi-classico excitati, had then beaten the tavern-keeper with offensive cudgels, and joyously pillaged the tavern, even to smashing in the hogsheads of wine in the cellar. And then it was a fine report in Latin, which the sub-monitor of Torchi carried piteously to Dom Claude with his dolorous marginal comment. Riksa prima-causing-vinum optimum-potatum.

Starting point is 06:35:58 Finally it was said, a thing quite horrible in a boy of sixteen, that his debauchery often extended as far as the rue de glattany. Claude, saddened and discouraged in his human affections, by all this, had flung himself eagerly into the arms of learning, that sister, which at least does not laugh in your face, and which always pays you, though in money that is sometimes a little hollow, for the attention which you have paid to her. Hence, he became more and more learned, and at the same time, as a natural consequence, more and more rigid as a priest, more and more sad as a man. There are for each of us several parallelisms between our intelligence, our habits, and our character, which develop

Starting point is 06:36:49 without a break, and break only in the great disturbances of life. As Claude Frollo had passed through nearly the entire circle of human learning, positive, exterior, and permissible, since his youth, he was obliged, unless he came to a halt, Ubi, Defuit, Orbis, to proceed further and seek other elements for the insatiable activity of his intelligence. The antique symbol of the serpent biting its tail is, above all, applicable to science. It would appear that Claude Frollo had experienced this. Many grave persons affirmed that, after having exhausted the foss of human learning, he had dared to penetrate into the nephos. He had, they said, tasted in succession all the apples of the tree of knowledge, and whether from hunger or disgust had ended by tasting the forbidden fruit.

Starting point is 06:37:46 He had taken his place by turns, as the reader has seen, in the conferences of the theologians in Sarbon, in the assemblies of the doctors of art, after the manner of Saint Iler, in the disputes of the decreatilists, after the manner of Saint-Martin, in the congregations of physicians at the Holy Water Font of Notre Dame, at Cupum Nostro Domino. All the dishes permitted and approved, which those four great kitchens called the four faculties could elaborate and serve to the understanding he had devoured, and had been satiated with them before his hunger was appeased. Then he had penetrated further, lower, beneath all that finished, material, limited knowledge. He had perhaps risked his soul, and had seated himself in the cavern at that mysterious table of the alchemists, of the astrologers, of the hermetics, of which Avarouet Gey

Starting point is 06:38:47 Geyom de Paris and Nicholas Flamele hold the end of the Middle Ages, and which extends in the east by the light of the seven-branched candlestick to Solomon, Pythagoras, and Zoroaster. That is, at least, what was supposed, whether rightly or not. It is certain that the archdeacon often visited the cemetery of the Saint Innocence, where it is true his father and mother had been buried, with other victims of the plague of 1466. But that he appeared far less devout before the cross of their grave than before the strange figures with which the tomb of Nicholas Flamele and Claude Pernell erected just beside it was loaded. It is certain that he had frequently been seen to pass along the Rue de Lombard, and furtively enter a little house which formed the corner of the Rue

Starting point is 06:39:45 de Ekravan and the Rue Marevo. It was the house which Nicholas Flomel had built, where he had died about 1417, and which, constantly deserted since that time, had already begun to fall in ruins. So greatly had the hermetics and the alchemists of all countries wasted away the walls merely by carving their names upon them. Some neighbors even affirm that they had once seen through an airhole, Archdeacon Claude, excavating, turning over, digging up the earth in the two cellars, whose supports have been doved with numberless couplets and hieroglyphics by Nicholas Flomel himself. It was supposed that Flamele had buried the philosopher's stone in the cellar, and the alchemists for the space of two centuries, from Magistri to Father Pacifique,

Starting point is 06:40:38 Never ceased to worry the soil until the house, so cruelly ransacked and turned over, ended by falling into dust beneath their feet. Again, it is certain that the archdeacon had been seized with a singular passion for the symbolical door of Notre Dame, that page of a conjuring book written in stone, by Bishop Gaiom de Paris, who has no doubt been damned for having affixed so infernal affrontes-piece to the sacred poem, chanted by the rest of the edifice. Archdeacon Claude had the credit also of having fathomed the mystery of the colossus of St. Christopher,

Starting point is 06:41:16 and of that lofty, enigmatical statue which then stood at the entrance of the vestibule, and which the people, in derision, called Monsieur Legri. But what everyone might have noticed was the interminable hours which he often employed, seated upon the parapet of the area in front of the church, in contemplating the sculptures of the front. Examining now the foolish virgins with their lamps reversed, now the wise virgins with their lamps upright. Again, calculating the angle of the vision of that raven

Starting point is 06:41:52 which belongs to the left front and which is looking at a mysterious point inside the church, where is concealed the philosopher's stone, if it be not in the cellar of Nicholas Flamele. It was, let us remark in passing, a singular fate for the Church of Notre Dame at that epoch to be so beloved in two different degrees, and with so much devotion by two beings so dissimilar as Claude and Quasimodo. Beloved by one, a sort of instinctive and savage half-man, for its beauty, for its stature,

Starting point is 06:42:30 for the harmonies which emanated from its magnificent ensemble. Beloved by the other, a learned and passionate imagination for its myth, for the sense which it contains, for the symbolism scattered beneath the sculptures of its front, like the first text underneath the second in a palimpsist, in a word for the enigma which it is eternally propounding to the understanding. Furthermore, it is certain that the archdeacon had established himself in that one of the two towers, which looks upon the greve, just beside the frame for the bells, a very secret little cell, into which no one, not even the bishop, entered without his leave, it was said.

Starting point is 06:43:17 This tiny cell had formerly been made almost at the summit of the tower, among the ravens' nests by Bishop Hugo de Besant-San, who had wrought sorcery there in his day. What that cell contained, no one knew, but from the strand of the terrain and at night there was often seen to appear, disappear, and reappear at brief and regular intervals, at a little dormer window opening upon the back of the tower a certain red, intermittent, singular light, which seemed to follow the panting breaths of a bellows, and to proceed from a flame, rather than from a light. In the darkness, at that height, it produced a singular effect, and the good-wife said,

Starting point is 06:44:01 there's the Archdeacon blowing. Hell is sparkling up yonder. There were no great proofs of sorcery in that, after all, but there was still enough smoke to warrant a surmise of fire, and the Archdeacon Bora tolerably formidable reputation. We ought to mention, however, that the sciences of Egypt, that necromancy and magic, even the whitest, even the most innocent, had no more envenomed enemy,

Starting point is 06:44:30 no more pitiless denunciator before the gentleman of the officiality of Notre Dame. Whether this was sincere horror, or the game played by the thief who shouts stop thief at all events, it did not prevent the archdeacon from being considered by the learned heads of the chapter as a soul who had ventured into the vestibule of hell, who was lost in the caves of the cabal, groping amid the shadows of the occult sciences. Neither were the people deceived thereby. With anyone who possessed any sagacity, Quasimodo passed for the demon, called Frollo for the sorcerer. It was evident that the bell-ringer was to serve the archdeacon for a given time, at the end of which he would carry away the latter's

Starting point is 06:45:18 soul by way of payment. Thus, the archdeacon, in spite of the excessive austerity of his life, was in bad odor among all pious souls, and there was no devout nose so inexperienced that it could not smell him out to be a magician. And if, as he grew older, abysses had formed in his science, they had also formed in his heart. That, at least, is what one had grounds for believing, on scrutinizing that face upon which the soul was only seen to shine through a somber cloud. Whence that large bald brow, that head forever bent, that breast always heaving with size? What secret thought caused his mouth to smile with so much bitterness, at the same moment that his scowling brows approached each other like two bulls on the point of

Starting point is 06:46:14 fighting? Why was what hair he had left already gray? What was that internal fire which sometimes broke forth in his glance, to such a degree that his eye resembled a hole pierced in the wall of a furnace. These symptoms of a violent moral preoccupation had acquired an especially high degree of intensity at the epic when this story takes place. More than once a choir boy had fled in terror at finding him alone in the church, so strange and dazzling was his look.

Starting point is 06:46:48 More than once in the choir, at the hour of the offices, his neighbor in the stalls had heard him mingle with the playing song, ad omnimtonum, unintelligible parentheses. More than once, the laundress of the terrain charged with washing the chapter, had observed, not without a fright, the marks of nails and clenched fingers on the surplus of Monsieur the Archdeacon of Jose. However, he redoubled his severity and had never been more exemplary. By profession, as well as by character, he had always held himself aloof from women.

Starting point is 06:47:28 He seemed to hate them more than ever. The mere rustling of a silken petticoat caused his hood to fall over his eyes. Upon this score he was so jealous of austerity and reserve that when the Dam de Beaujo, the king's daughter, came to visit the cloister of Notre Dame in the month of December, 1481, he gravely opposed her entrance, reminding the bishop of the statute of the black book, dating from the vigil of St. Bartolome, 1334, which interdicts access to the cloister to any woman whatever, old or young, mistress or maid.

Starting point is 06:48:07 Upon which the bishop had been constrained to recite to him the ordinance of Legate Odo, which accepts certain great dames. Alekoé magnates mulieres, coecine Scandalo Vitari non-poussont. And again the archdeacon had protested, objecting that the ordinance of the legate, which dated back to 1207, was anterior by 127 years to the black book, and consequently was abrogated in fact by it.

Starting point is 06:48:38 And he had refused to appear before the princess. It was also noticed that his, horror for bohemian women and gypsies had seemed to redouble for some time past. He had petitioned the bishop for an edict which expressly forbade the bohemian women to come and dance and beat their tambourines on the place of the parvee. And for about the same length of time, he had been ransacking the moldy placards of the officialty, in order to collect the cases of sorcerers and witches condemned to fire or the rope for complicity in crimes with rams, sows, or goats. End of Book 4, Chapter 5. Book 4 Chapter 6 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.

Starting point is 06:49:34 This Librovox recording is in the public domain. Book 4, Chapter 6. Unpopularity The Archdeacon and the bell-ringer, as we have already said, were but little loved by the popularly. great and small, in the vicinity of the cathedral. When Claude and Quasimodo went out together, which frequently happened, and when they were seen traversing in company, the valet behind the master, the cold, narrow and gloomy streets of the block of Notre Dame, more than one evil word, more than one ironical quaver,

Starting point is 06:50:10 more than one insulting jest greeted them on their way, unless Claude Frollo, which was rarely the case, walked with head upright and raised, showing his severe and almost august brow to the dumbfounded jeerers. Both were in their quarter, like the poets of whom Runei speaks. All sorts of persons run after poets as warblers fly shrieking after owls. Sometimes a mischievous child risked his skin and bones for the ineffable pleasure of driving a pin into Quasimodo's hump. Again a young girl, more bold, old and saucy than was fitting, brushed the priest's black robe, singing in his face the sardonic Diddy.

Starting point is 06:50:54 "'Nitch! Nitch! the devil is caught!' Sometimes a group of squalid old crones, squatting in a file under the shadow of the steps to a porch, scolded noisily as the archdeacon and the bell-ringer passed, and tossed them this encouraging welcome with a curse. "'Hum! there's a fellow whose soul is made like the other one's body. Or a band of schoolboys and street urchins, playing hopscotch, rose in a body and saluted him classically with some cry in Latin.

Starting point is 06:51:28 "'Iya, Ia! Claudius come Clodot-O!' But the insult generally passed unnoticed both by the priest and the bell-ringer. Quasimodo was too deaf to hear all those gracious things, and Claude was too dreamy. End of Book 4, Chapter 6. Book 5, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 5, Chapter 1, Abbas Biati Martini. Dom Claude's fame had spread far and wide. It procured for him at about the epic when he refused to see Madame de Beaujeau,

Starting point is 06:52:19 a visit which he long remembered. It was in the evening. He had just retired, after the office, to his cannon cell in the cloister of Notre Dame. This cell, with the exception possibly of some glass files, relegated to a corner and filled with a decidedly equivocal powder, which strongly resembled the alchemist's powder of projection, presented nothing strange or mysterious. There were, indeed, here and there, some inscriptions on the walls, but they were pure sentences of learning and piety, extracted.

Starting point is 06:52:53 from good authors. The archdeacon had just seated himself by the light of a three-jeted copper lamp before a vast coffer crammed with manuscripts. He had rested his elbow upon the open volume of a Norius de autun, de predestinatione at Libero Arbitrio, and he was turning over, in deep meditation, the leaves of a printed folio which he had just brought, the sole product of the press which his cell contained. In the midst of his reverie there came a knock at his door. "'Who's there?' cried the learned man, in the gracious tone of a famished dog, disturbed over his bone.

Starting point is 06:53:35 A voice without replied, "'Your friend Jacques Quatier!' He went to open the door. It was, in fact, the king's physician, a person about fifty years of age, whose harsh physiognomy was modified only by a a crafty eye. Another man accompanied him. Both wore long, slate-colored robes, fared with Miniver, girded and closed, with caps of the same stuff and hue. Their hands were concealed by their sleeves, their feet by their robes, their eyes by their caps.

Starting point is 06:54:11 "'God help me, messieurs,' said the archdeacon, showing them in. "'I was not expecting distinguished visitors at such an hour. And while While speaking in this courteous fashion, he cast an uneasy and scrutinizing glance from the physician to his companion. "'Tis never too late to come and pay a visit to so considerable alerted man as Dom Claude Frollo de Tierrechape,' replied Dr. Quatier, whose Framche Comte accent made all his phrases drag along with the majesty of a train robe. There then ensued between the physician and the archdeacon, one of the French-deacon, one of the

Starting point is 06:54:50 of those congratulatory prologues, which, in accordance with custom, at that epic, preceded all conversations between learned men, and which did not prevent them from detesting each other in the most cordial manner in the world. However, it is the same nowadays. Every wise man's mouth complimenting another wise man is a vase of honeyed gall. Claude Frollo's felicitations to Jacques Quatier bore reference, principle to the temporal advantages which the worthy physician had found means to extract, in the course of his much envied career from each malady of the king, an operation of alchemy much better and more certain than the pursuit of the philosopher's stone.

Starting point is 06:55:37 "'In truth, Monsieur le d'Actur Quatier, I felt great joy on learning of the bishopric given your nephew, my reverend signor Pierre Versailles. Is he not Bishop of Amiens? Yes, Monsieur Archdeacon, it is a grace and mercy of God. Do you know that you made a great figure on Christmas Day at the beat of your company of the Chamber of Accounts, Monsieur President? Vice President Dom Claude, alas, nothing more. How is your superb house in the Rue Saint-Andre d'Arque coming on?

Starting point is 06:56:18 "'Tis a Louvre. I love greatly the apricot tree which is carved on the door, with this play of words. "'Alabra Cotier, sheltered from reefs. "'Alas, Master Claude, all that masonry costeth me dear. "'In proportion as the house is erected, I am ruined.' "'Ho, have you not your revenues from the jail and the bailey-wick of the Palais, and the rents of all the houses, sheds, stalls, and booths of the enclosure? Tis a fine breast to suck.

Starting point is 06:56:55 My Castellini apuice has brought me in nothing this year. But your toes of Trial, of St. James, of St. Germain-Laye, are always good. Six score livres, and not even Parisian livres at that. You have your office of counsellor to the king, that is fixed. Yes, brother Claude, but that accursed Signorea Pollyne, which people make so much noise about, is worth not sixty gold crowns year out and year in. In the compliments which Dom Claude addressed to Jacques Quatier, there was that sardonical, biting, and covertly mocking accent,

Starting point is 06:57:40 and the sad, cruel smile of a superior and unhappy man, who toys for a moment by way of distraction with the dense prosperity of a vulgar man. The other did not perceive it. "'Upon my soul,' said Claude at length, pressing his hand, "'I am glad to see you in such good health.' "'Thanks, Master Claude.' "'By the way,' exclaimed Dom Claude, "'how is your royal patient?'

Starting point is 06:58:11 "'He payeth not sufficiently his physician,' replied the Don, doctor, casting a side-glance at his companion. "'Think you so, Gassip Quetier,' said the latter. "'These words, uttered in a tone of surprise and reproach, drew upon this unknown personage the attention of the archdeacon, which, to tell the truth, had not been diverted from him a single moment since the stranger had set foot across the threshold of his cell. It had even required all the thousand reasons which he had for handling

Starting point is 06:58:45 tenderly, Dr. Jacques Quatier, the all-powerful physician of King Louis X. The eleventh, to induce him to receive the latter thus accompanied. Hence, there was nothing very cordial in his manner when Jacques Quatier said to him, "'By the way, Claude, I bring you a colleague who has desired to see you on account of your reputation.' "'Monsieur belongs to science?' asked the archdeacon, fixing his piercing eye upon Quatier's companion. He found beneath the brows of the stranger a glance no less piercing or less distrustful than his own. He was, so far as the feeble light of the lamp permitted one to judge,

Starting point is 06:59:28 an old man about sixty years of age, and of medium stature, who appeared somewhat sickly and broken in health. His profile, although of a very ordinary outline, had something powerful and severe about it. His eyes sparkled beneath a very deep, superciliary arch, like a light in the deaths of a cave. And beneath his cap, which was well drawn down and fell upon his nose, one recognized the broad expanse of a brow of genius. He took it upon himself to reply to the archdeacon's question. "'Reverend master,' he said in a grave tone, "'your renown has reached my ears. and I wish to consult you.

Starting point is 07:00:15 I am but a poor provincial gentleman who removeth his shoes before entering the dwellings of the learned. You must know my name. I am called Gossip Turingo. Strange name for a gentleman, said the archdeacon to himself. Nevertheless, he had a feeling

Starting point is 07:00:35 that he was in the presence of a strong and earnest character. The instinct of his own lofty intellect made him recognize an intellect no less lofty under Gossip Toringo's furred cap, and as he gazed at the solemn face, the ironical smile with Jacques Quatier's presence called forth on his gloomy face, gradually disappeared as twilight fades on the horizon of night. Stern and silent, he had resumed his seat in his great armchair. His elbow rested as usual on the table and his brow on his hand. After a few moments of the moment of his own, he had resumed. of reflection, he motioned his visitors to be seated, and, turning to Gassip Turingo, he said,

Starting point is 07:01:18 "'You come to consult me, master, and upon what science?' "'Your reverence,' replied Torengo, "'I am ill, very ill. You are said to be a great escapius, and I am come to ask your advice in medicine.' "'Medicine,' said the archdeacon, tossing his head. He seemed to meditate for a moment and then resumed. Gossip Turingo, since that is your name, turn your head, and you will find my reply already written on the wall. Gossip Torengo obeyed and read this inscription engraved above his head.

Starting point is 07:02:00 Medicine is the daughter of dreams, Jean-Blich. Meanwhile, Dr. Jacques Quachet had heard his companion's question with a displeasure which Dom Claude's response had but redoubled. He bent down to the ear of gossip Toringo and said to him, softly enough, not to be heard by the archdeacon, "'I warned you that he was mad. You insisted upon seeing him. "'Tis very possible that he is right, madman as he is, Dr. Jacques,' replied his comrade in the same low tone and with a bitter smile. "'As you please,' replied Quatier, dryly. Then addressing the archdeacon,

Starting point is 07:02:44 "'You are clever at your trade, Dom Claude, and you are no more at a loss over Hippocrates than a monkey is over a nut. Medicine, a dream! I suspect that the pharmacopolis and the master physicians would insist upon stoning you if they were here. So you deny the influence of filters upon the blood and unguince on the skin? You deny that eternal pharmacy of flowers and metals, which is called the world, made expressly for that eternal invalid called man. I deny, said Dom Claude coldly, neither pharmacy nor the invalid. I reject the physician. Then it is not true, resumed Quatier hotly, that gout is an internal eruption, that a wound

Starting point is 07:03:37 caused by artillery is to be cured by the application of a young mouse roasted. That young blood, properly injected, restores youth to aged veins. It is not true that two and two make four, and that improstathonos follows opestathonos. The archdeacon replied without perturbation. There are certain things of which I think in a certain fashion. Quatier became crimson with anger. There, there, my good Quatier, let us not get angry, said Gossip Toringo. Monsieur the Archdeacon is our friend. Quatier calmed down, muttering in a low tone.

Starting point is 07:04:22 After all, he's mad. Pascad do, Master Claude, resumed Gossip Toringo after a silence. You embarrass me greatly. I had two things to consult you upon, one to turn. touching my health and the other touching my star." "'Monsure,' returned the archdeacon, "'if that be your motive, you would have done as well not to put yourself out of breath climbing my staircase.

Starting point is 07:04:51 I do not believe in medicine. I do not believe in astrology.' "'Indeed,' said the man with surprise. Quatier gave a forced laugh. You see that he is mad," he said in a low tone to Gossip Toringo. He does not believe in astrology. The idea of imagining, pursued Dom Claude, that every ray of a star is a thread which is fastened to the head of a man.

Starting point is 07:05:23 "'And what then do you believe in?' exclaimed Gossip Toringo. The Archdeacon hesitated for a moment, then he allowed a gloomy smile to escape, which seemed to give the lie to his response, Credo Indium. Dominim Nostrum, added Gossip Toringo, making the sign of the cross. Amen, said Quatier. Reverend Master, resumed Toringo, I am charmed in soul to see you in such a religious frame of mind. But have you reached the point, great savant as you are, of no longer believing in science? "'No,' said the archdeacon, grasping the arm of gossip Torengo, and a ray of enthusiasm

Starting point is 07:06:10 lighted up his gloomy eyes. "'No, I do not reject science. I have not crawled so long, flat on my belly, with my nails in the earth, through the innumerable ramifications of its caverns, without perceiving far in front of me, at the end of the obscure gallery, a light, a flame, a something, the reflection no doubt, of the dazzling central laboratory where the patient and the wise have found out God. And in short, interrupted Turingo, what do you hold to be true and certain?

Starting point is 07:06:46 Alchemy. Quattier exclaimed, Pardieu, dumb-clod, alchemy has its use, no doubt, but why blaspheme medicine and astrology? Not is your science of man. "'Nought is your science of the stars,' said the archdeacon commandingly. "'That's driving Epidorus and Caldea very fast,' replied the physician with a grin. "'Listen, Monsieur Jacques, this is said in good faith. I am not the king's physician, and his majesty has not given me the Garden of Daedalus in which to observe the constellations.

Starting point is 07:07:29 Don't get angry, but listen to me. me. What truth have you deduced, I will not say from medicine, which is too foolish a thing, but from astrology? Cite to me the virtues of the vertical Bostrophieden, the treasures of the number Xerof and those of the number Zephyrard. Will you deny, said Quatier, the sympathetic force of the collar-bone, and the cabalistics which are derived from it? An error, Monsieur Jacques.

Starting point is 07:08:01 None of your formulas end in reality. Alchemy, on the other hand, has its discoveries. Will you contest results like this? Ice confined beneath the earth for a thousand years is transformed into rock crystals. Lead is the ancestor of all metals. For gold is not a metal, gold is light. Lead requires only four periods of two hundred years each.

Starting point is 07:08:28 to pass in succession from the state of lead to the state of red arsenic, from red arsenic to tin, from tin to silver. Are not these facts? But to believe in the collarbone, and in the full line and in the stars, is as ridiculous as to believe with the inhabitants of Grand Cathay, that the golden oriel turns into a mole, and that grains of wheat turn into fish of the carp species. I have studied Hermetic Science, exclaimed Quatier, and I affirm, the fiery archdeacon did not allow him to finish. And I have studied medicine, astrology, and hermetics. Here alone is the truth.

Starting point is 07:09:17 As he spoke thus, he took from the top of the coffer a file filled with the powder which we have mentioned above. Here alone is light. Hippocrates is a dream. Urania is a dream. Hermes, a thought. Gold is the sun. To make gold is to be God. Herein lies the one and only science. I have sounded the depths of medicine and astrology, I tell you. Not, nothingness. The human body shadows. The planet's shadows. And he fell back in his armchair in a commanding and inspired attitude.

Starting point is 07:09:58 Gossip Toringo watched him in silence. Quate tried to grin, shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly, and repeated in a low voice. A madman. And, said Toringo suddenly, the wondrous result! Have you attained it? Have you made gold? If I had made it, replied the archdeacon, articulating his, his word slowly, like a man who is reflecting. The King of France would be named Claude and not Louis."

Starting point is 07:10:34 The stranger frowned. "'What am I saying?' resumed Dom Claude, with a smile of disdain. What would the throne of France be to me when I could rebuild the Empire of the Orient?" "'Very good,' said the stranger. "'Oh, the poor fool!' murmured Quatier. The Archdeacon went on, appearing to reply now only to his thoughts. But no, I am still crawling. I am scratching my face and knees against the pebbles of the subterranean pathway.

Starting point is 07:11:10 I catch a glimpse. I do not contemplate. I do not read. I spell out. And when you know how to read, demanded the stranger, will you make gold? "'Who doubts it?' said the archdeacon. "'In that case, our lady knows that I am greatly in need of money, and I should much desire to read in your books.

Starting point is 07:11:37 "'Tell me, Reverend Master, is your science inimical or displeasing to our lady?' "'Whose Archdeacon I am?' Dom Claude contended himself with replying with tranquil haughture. "'That is true, my master.' "'Well, will it please you to initiate me? Let me spell with you,' Claude assumed the majestic and pontifical attitude of a Samuel. "'Old man, it requires longer years than remain to you to undertake this voyage across mysterious things. Your head is very grey. One comes forth from the cavern only with white hair, but only those with dark hair enter it.'

Starting point is 07:12:25 Science alone knows well how to hollow, wither, and dry up human faces. She needs not to have old age bring her faces already furrowed. Nevertheless, if the desire possesses you of putting yourself under discipline at your age and of deciphering the formidable alphabet of the sages, come to me. Tis well, I will make the effort. I will not tell you, poor old man, to go and visit the sepulchral chambers of the pyramids of which ancient Herodotus speaks, nor the brick tower of Babylon, nor the immense white marble sanctuary of the Indian temple of a Klinga.

Starting point is 07:13:08 I, no more than yourself, have seen the Chaldean masonry works constructed according to the sacred form of the Sikra, nor the temple of Solomon, which is destroyed, nor the temple of nor the stone doors of the sepulchre of the kings of Israel, which are broken. We will content ourselves with the fragments of the book of Hermes which we have here. I will explain to you the statue of St. Christopher, the symbol of the sower, and that of the two angels which are on the front of the Saint-Chapelle, and one of which holds in his hands a vase, the other, a cloud. Here Jacques Quatier, who had been unhorsed by the Archdeacon's impetuous replies,

Starting point is 07:13:51 regained his saddle, and interrupted him with the triumphant tone of one learned man correcting another. Eras Amici Claudi! The symbol is not the number. You take Orpheus for Hermes. "'Tis you who are in error,' replied the archdeacon gravely. "'Dadalus is the base. Orpheus is the wall.

Starting point is 07:14:16 Hermes is the edifice. That is all. You shall come when you will, he continued, turning to Torango. I will show you the little parcels of gold which remained at the bottom of Nicholas Flamele's Alembic, and you shall compare them with the gold of Gaiom de Paris. I will teach you the secret virtues of the Greek word Peristira. But first of all, I will make you read, one after the other, the marble letter of the alphabet, the granite pages of the book.

Starting point is 07:14:47 We shall go to the portal of Bishop Géom, and of St. Jean-Laureonde at the Saint-Chapelle. Then to the house of Nicholas Flamele, Rue Manvo, to his tomb, which is at the Saint-Innocence, to his two hospitals, Rue de Montmorency. I will make you read the hieroglyphics which covered the four great iron cramps on the portal of the Hospital Saint-Gervais,

Starting point is 07:15:12 and of the Rue de la Feronoree. We will spell out in company, also the facade of St. Combe, of St. Jean-Viev de Ardante, of St. Martin, of St. Jacques de la Boucherie. For a long time, gossip Turingot, intelligent as was his glance, had appeared not to understand Dom Claude. He interrupted. "'Pasca dee! What are your books, then?' "'Here is one of them,' said.

Starting point is 07:15:42 said the archdeacon. And opening the window of his cell, he pointed out with his finger the immense church of Notre Dame, which, outlining against the starry sky, the black silhouette of its two towers, its stone flanks, its monstrous haunches, seemed an enormous two-headed sphinx seated in the middle of the city. The archdeacon gazed at the gigantic edifice for some time in silence, then, extending his right hand with a sigh towards the printed book which lay open on the table, and his left towards Notre Dame, and turning a sad glance from the book to the church, Alas, he said, this will kill that. Quatier, who had eagerly approached the book, could not repress an exclamation.

Starting point is 07:16:35 Hey, but now what is there so formidable in this, Glossa Ineufus aene. Epistulius Diet Pauldi, Nurembergo Antonius Koberger, 1474. This is not new. Tis a book of Pierre Lombard, the master of sentences. Is it because it is printed? You have said it, replied Claude, who seemed absorbed in a profound meditation, and stood, resting, his forefinger bent backward on the folio, which had come from the famous press of Nuremberg.

Starting point is 07:17:09 Then he added these mysterious words. Alas! Alas! Small things come at the end of great things. A tooth triumphs over a mass. The Nile rat kills the crocodile. The swordfish kills the whale. The book will kill the edifice.

Starting point is 07:17:30 The curfew of the cloister sounded at the moment when Master Jacques was repeating to his companion in low tones, his eternal refrain. He is mad!" To which his companion this time replied, "'I believe that he is!' It was the hour when no stranger could remain in the cloister. The two visitors withdrew. "'Master,' said Gossip Toringo, as he took leave of the Archdeacon,

Starting point is 07:18:00 "'I love wise men and great minds, and I hold you in singular esteem. Come to-morrow to the Palace de Tournelle. and inquire for the Abbe de Saint-Martin of Tours. The archdeacon returned to his chamber dumbfounded, comprehending at last who gossip Turingo was, and recalling that passage of the register of St. Martin of Tours. Abbas Biati Martini, Silicet Rex Franciet,

Starting point is 07:18:31 Est canonical de constitudene at Habat Parvam Probendum, Quamhabet Sanctus vanantius, and debate cedere in Cedesarari. It is asserted that after that epoch, the archdeacon had frequent conferences with Louis XI. 11th when his majesty came to Paris, and that Dom Claude's influence quite overshadowed that of Olivier la Dame and Jacques Quattier, who, as was his habit, rudely took the king to task on that account. End of Book 5, Chapter 1. Book 5, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.

Starting point is 07:19:20 This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Book 5, Chapter 2, This Will Kill That. Our lady readers will pardon us if we pause for a moment to seek what could have been the thought concealed beneath those enigmatic words of the Archdeacon. will kill that. The book will kill the edifice. To our mind, this thought had two faces. In the first place, it was a priestly thought. It was the affright of the priest in the presence of a new agent, the printing press. It was the terror and dazzled amazement of the men of the sanctuary, in the presence of the luminous press of Gutenberg. It was the pulpit and the manuscript taking the alarm at the printed word, something similar to the stupor of a sparrow which should

Starting point is 07:20:14 behold the angel legion unfold his six million wings. It was the cry of the prophet who already hears emancipated humanity roaring and swarming, who beholds in the future, intelligence, sapping faith, opinion dethroning belief, the world shaking off Rome. It was the prognostication of the philosopher who sees human thought, volatized by the press, evaporating from the theocratic recipient. It was the terror of the soldier who examines the brazen battering ram and says, the tower will crumble. It signified that one power was about to succeed another power. It meant the press will kill the church. But underlying this thought, the first and most simple one, no doubt, there was was, in our opinion, another newer one, a corollary of the first, less easy to perceive and more

Starting point is 07:21:14 easy to contest, a view as philosophical and belonging no longer to the priest alone, but to the savant and the artist. It was a pre-sentiment that human thought, in changing its form, was about to change its mode of expression, that the dominant idea of each generation would no longer be written with the same matter and in the same manner, that the book of stone, so solid and so durable, was about to make way for the book of paper, more solid and still more durable. In this connection, the archdeacon's vague formula had a second sense. It meant, printing will kill architecture. In fact, from the origin of things down to the 15th century of the Christian era inclusive,

Starting point is 07:22:04 architecture is the great book of humanity, the principal expression of man in his different stages of development, either as a force or as an intelligence. When the memory of the first races felt itself overloaded,

Starting point is 07:22:20 when the mass of reminiscences of the human race became so heavy and so confused, that speech, naked and flying, ran the risk of losing them on the way, men transcribed them on the soil in a manner which was at once the most visible, most durable, and most natural. They sealed each tradition beneath a monument. The first monuments were simple masses of rock, which the iron had not touched, as Moses says. Architecture began like all writing.

Starting point is 07:22:52 It was first an alphabet. Men planted a stone upright, it was a letter, and each letter was a hieroglyph. each hieroglyph rested a group of ideas, like the capital on the column. This is what the earliest races did everywhere, at the same moment, on the surface of the entire world. We find the standing stones of the Celts in Asian Siberia, in the Pompas of America. Later on, they made words. They placed stone upon stone. They coupled those syllables of granite and attempted some combinations. Celtic Dolman and Kromlech, the Etruscan tumulus, the Hebrew Galgall, are words. Some, especially the tumulus, are proper names. Sometimes even when men had a great deal of stone, and a vast plain, they wrote a phrase. The immense pile of Karnak is a complete sentence.

Starting point is 07:23:52 At last they made books. Traditions had brought forth symbols, beneath which they disappeared like the trunk of a tree beneath its foliage. All these symbols in which humanity placed faith continued to grow, to multiply, to intersect, to become more and more complicated. The first monuments no longer suffice to contain them. They were overflowing in every part. These monuments hardly expressed now the primitive tradition, simple like themselves, naked and prone upon the earth. The symbol felt the need of expansion in the edifice. architecture was developed in proportion with human thought. It became a giant, with a thousand heads and a thousand arms, and fixed all this floating symbolism in an eternal, visible, palpable

Starting point is 07:24:43 form. While Daedalus, who is force, measured, while Orpheus, who is intelligence, sang, the pillar which is a letter, the arcade which is a syllable, the pyramid which is a word, All set in movement at once, by a law of geometry and by a law of poetry, grouped themselves, combined, amalgamated, descended, ascended, placed themselves side by side on the soil, ranged themselves in stories in the sky, until they had written under the dictation of the general idea of an epoch those marvelous books which were also marvelous edifices. The Pagoda of Eklinga, the Ramseon of Egypt, the temple, of Solomon. The generating idea, the word, was not only at the foundation of all these edifices,

Starting point is 07:25:36 but also in the form. The temple of Solomon, for example, was not alone the binding of the holy book, it was the holy book itself. On each one of its concentric walls, the priests could read the word translated and manifested to the eye, and thus they followed its transformations from sanctuary to sanctuary, until they seized it in its last tabernacle under its most concrete form, which still belonged to architecture, the arch. Thus the word was enclosed in an edifice, but its image was upon its envelope, like the human form on the coffin of a mummy. And not only the form of edifices, but the site selected for them, revealed the thought which they represented, according as the symbol to be expressed was graceful or grave.

Starting point is 07:26:28 Greece crowned her mountains with a temple harmonious to the eye. India disemboweled hers to chisel therein those monstrous subterranean pagodas, borne up by gigantic rows of granite elephants. Thus, during the first six thousand years of the world, from the most immemorial pagoda of Hindustan to the Cathedral of Cologne. Architecture was the great handwriting of the human race. And this is so true that not only every religious symbol but every human thought has its page and its monument in that immense book. All civilization begins in theocracy and ends in democracy. This law of liberty following unity is written in architecture. For let us insist upon this point, Masonry must not be thought to be powerful only in erecting the temple and in expressing the myth

Starting point is 07:27:24 and sacerdotal symbolism. In inscribing in hieroglyphs upon its pages of stone the mysterious tables of the law. If it were thus, as there comes in all human society a moment when the sacred symbol is worn out and becomes obliterated under freedom of thought, when man escapes from the priest, when the excrescence of philosophies and systems devour the face of religion, architecture could not reproduce this new state of human thought. Its leaves, so crowded on the face, would be empty on the back. Its work would be mutilated.

Starting point is 07:28:02 Its book would be incomplete. But no. Let us take as an example the Middle Ages, where we see more clearly because it is nearer to us. During its first period, while Thee Iliad, is organizing Europe, while the Vatican is rallying and reclassing about itself the elements of a Rome made from the Rome which lies in ruins around the capital. While Christianity is seeking all the stages of society amid the rubbish of anterior civilization and rebuilding with its ruins a new hierarchic universe, the keystone to whose vault is the priest. One first hears a dull echo

Starting point is 07:28:42 from that chaos, and then, little by little, one sees, arising from beneath the breath of Christianity, from beneath the hand of the barbarians, from the fragments of the dead, Greek, and Roman architectures, that mysterious Romanesque architecture, sister of theocratic masonry of Egypt and of India, inalterable emblem of pure Catholicism, unchangeable hieroglyph of the papal unity. All the thought of that day is written, in fact, in this somber Romanesque style. One feels everywhere in it, authority, unity, the impenetrable, the absolute Gregory the seventh, always the priest, never the man, everywhere cast, never the people. But the Crusades arrive. They are a great popular movement, and every great popular movement,

Starting point is 07:29:40 whatever may be its cause and object, always sets free the spirit of liberty from its final precipitate. New things spring into life every day. Here opens the stormy period of the jaccharies, prageries, and leagues. Authority wavers, unity is divided. Feudalism demands to share with theocracy, while awaiting the inevitable arrival of the people, who will assume the part of the lion Quia Naminor Lio. Sini pierces through Sasserdotalism. The commonality through signory.

Starting point is 07:30:17 The face of Europe is changed. Well, the face of architecture is changed also. Like civilization, it has turned a page, and the new spirit of the time finds her ready to write at its dictation. It returns from the crusades with the pointed arch, like the nations with liberty. Then, while

Starting point is 07:30:38 Rome is undergoing gradual dismemberment, Romanesque architecture dies. The hieroglyph deserts the cathedral, and betakes itself to blazoning the dungeon keep, in order to lend prestige to feudalism. The cathedral itself, that edifice formerly so dogmatic, invaded henceforth by the bourgeoisie, by the community, by liberty, escapes the priest and falls into the power of the artist. The artist builds it after his own fashion. Farewell to mystery, myth, law. Fancy and caprice, welcome. Provided the priest has his basilica and his altar,

Starting point is 07:31:19 he has nothing to say. The four walls belong to the artist. The architectural book belongs no longer to the priest, to religion, to Rome. It is the property of poetry, of imagination, of the people. Hence the rapid and innumerable transformations of that architecture, which owns but three centuries, so striking after the stagnant immobility of the Romanesque architecture, which owns six or seven. Nevertheless, art marches on with giant strides.

Starting point is 07:31:52 Popular genius amid originality accomplished the task which the bishops formerly fulfilled. Each race writes its line upon the book as it passes, It erases the ancient Romanesque hieroglyphs on the frontist pieces of cathedrals, and at the most one only sees dogma cropping out here and there beneath the new symbol which it has deposited. The popular drapery hardly permits the religious skeleton to be suspected. One cannot even form an idea of the liberties which the architects then take even toward the church. There are capitals knitted of nuns and monks shamelessly coupled, as on the hall of chimney pieces in the Palais de Justice in Paris. There is Noah's adventure carved to the last

Starting point is 07:32:39 detail, as under the great portal of Bourge. There is a bacchanalian monk with ass's ears and glass in hand, laughing in the face of a whole community as on the lavatory of the Abbey of Beaucherville. There exists at that epoch, for thought written in stone, a privilege exactly comparable to our present liberty of the press. It is the liberty. of architecture. This liberty goes very far. Sometimes a portal, a façade, an entire church, presents a symbolical sense absolutely foreign to worship,

Starting point is 07:33:16 or even hostile to the church. In the 13th century, Gaiom de Paris and Nicholas Flamele in the 15th wrote such seditious pages. Saint-Jacques de la Boucherie was a whole church of the opposition. Thought was then free, only in this manner, hence it never wrote itself out completely, except on the books called edifices. Thought, under the form of edifice, could have beheld itself burned in the public square by the hands

Starting point is 07:33:47 of the executioner, in its manuscript form, if it had been sufficiently imprudent to risk itself thus. Thought, as the door of a church, would have been a spectator of the punishment of thought as a book. having thus only this resource Masonry in order to make its way to the light flung itself upon it from all quarters hence the immense quantity of cathedrals which have covered Europe a number so prodigious that one can hardly believe it

Starting point is 07:34:17 even after having verified it all the material forces all the intellectual forces of society converge towards the same point architecture in this manner under the pretext of building churches to God, art was developed in its magnificent proportions. Then, whoever was born a poet became an architect. Genius, scattered in the masses, repressed in every

Starting point is 07:34:45 quarter under feudalism as under a testudo of brazen bucklers, finding no issue except in the direction of architecture, gushed forth through that art, and its Iliads assumed the form of cathedrals. All other arts obeyed and placed themselves under the discipline of architecture. They were the workmen of the great work. The architect, the poet, the master, summed up in his person the sculpture which carved his facades, painting which illuminated his windows, music which set his bells to peeling, and breathe into his organs. There was nothing down to poor poetry, properly speaking, that which persisted in vegetating in manuscripts, which was not forced, in order to make something of itself, to come and frame itself in the edifice in the shape of a hymn

Starting point is 07:35:40 or of prose. The same part, after all, which the tragedies of Aeschylus had played in the sacerdotal festivals of Greece, Genesis in the Temple of Solomon. Thus, down to the time of Gutenberg, architecture is the principal writing, the universal writing. In that granite book, begun by the Orient, continued by Greek and Roman antiquity, the Middle Ages wrote the last page. Moreover, this phenomenon of an architecture of the people following an architecture of caste, which we have just been observing in the Middle Ages, is reproduced with every analogous movement in the human intelligence at the other great epics of history.

Starting point is 07:36:23 Thus, in order to enunciate here only summarily, a law which, it would require volumes to develop. In the High Orient, the cradle of primitive times, after Hindu architecture came Phoenician architecture, that opulent mother of Arabian architecture. In antiquity, after Egyptian architecture, of which Etruscan style and cyclopean monuments are but one variety, came Greek architecture, of which the Roman style is only a continuation, surcharged with the Carthaginian dome. In modern times, after Romanesque architecture, came Gothic architecture. And by separating the three series into their component parts,

Starting point is 07:37:08 we shall find in the three eldest sisters, Hindu architecture, Egyptian architecture, Romanesque architecture, the same symbol, that is to say, theocracy, caste, unity, dogma, myth, God. And for the three younger sisters, Phoenician architecture, Greek architecture, Gothic architecture, whatever, nevertheless, may be the diversity of form inherent in their nature, the same signification also, that is to say, liberty, the people, man. In the Hindu, Egyptian, or Romanesque architecture, one feels the priest, nothing but the priest, whether he calls himself Brahman, Magian, or Pope. It is not the same in the

Starting point is 07:37:58 architectures of the people. They are richer and less sacred. In the Phoenician, one feels the merchant. In the Greek, the Republican. In the Gothic, the citizen. The general characteristics of all theocratic architecture are immutability, horror of progress, the preservation of traditional lines, the consecration of the primitive types, the constant bending of all the forms of men and of nature to the incomprehensible caprices of the symbol. These are dark books, which the initiated alone understand how to decipher. Moreover, every form, every deformity even, has there a sense which renders it inviolable. Do not ask of Hindu, Egyptian, Romanesque masonry to reform their design or to improve their statuary.

Starting point is 07:38:51 Every attempt at perfecting is an impiety to them. In these architectures, it seems as though the rigidity of the dogma had spread over the stone like a sort of second petrification. The general characteristics of popular masonry, on the contrary, are progress, originality, opulence, perpetual movement. They are already sufficiently detached from religion to think of their beauty, to take care of it, to correct, without relaxation, their perure of statues or arabesques. They are of the age.

Starting point is 07:39:27 They have something human, which they mingle incessantly with the divine symbol under which they still produce. Hence edifices comprehensible to every soul, to every intelligence, to every imagination, symbolical still, but as easy to understand as nature. Between theocratic architecture and this, there is the difference that lies between a sacred language and a vulgar language. between hieroglyphics and art, between Solomon and Phidias. If the reader will sum up what we have hitherto briefly, very briefly indicated, neglecting a thousand proofs and also a thousand objections of detail, he will be led to this.

Starting point is 07:40:11 That architecture was, down to the 15th century, the chief register of humanity, that in that interval, not a thought which is in any degree complicated, made its appearance in the world, which has not been worked into an edifice, that every popular idea and every religious law has had its monumental records, that the human race has, in short, had no important thought which it has not written in stone. And why? Because every thought, either philosophical or religious, is interested in perpetuating itself, because the idea which has moved one generation wishes to move others also. and leave a trace. Now, what a precarious immortality is that of the manuscript?

Starting point is 07:40:59 How much more solid, durable, unyielding is a book of stone? In order to destroy the written word, a torch and a Turk are sufficient. To demolish the constructed word, a social revolution, a terrestrial revolution are required. The barbarians passed over the Coliseum, the deluge perhaps passed over the pyramids. In the 15th century, everything changes. Human thought discovers a mode of perpetuating itself, not only more durable and more resisting than architecture, but still more simple and easy.

Starting point is 07:41:38 Architecture is dethroned. Gutenberg's letters of lead are about to supersede Orpheus' letters of stone. The invention of printing is the greatest event in history. It is the mother of revolution. It is the mode of expression of humanity which is totally renewed. It is human thought, stripping off one form and dawning another. It is the complete and definitive change of skin of that symbolical serpent, which, since the days of Adam, has represented intelligence.

Starting point is 07:42:12 In its printed form, thought is more imperishable than ever. It is volatile, irresistible, indestructible. It is mingled with the air. In the days of architecture, it made a mountain of itself, and took powerful possession of a century and a place. Now it converts itself into a flock of birds, scatters itself to the four winds, and occupies all points of air and space at once. We repeat, who does not perceive that in this form it is far more indelible?

Starting point is 07:42:47 It was solid, it has become alive. It passes from duration in time to immortality. One can demolish a mass. How can one extirpate ubiquity? If a flood comes, the mountains will have long disappeared beneath the waves, while the birds will still be flying about. And if a single arc floats on the surface of the cataclysm, they will light upon it, will float with it,

Starting point is 07:43:16 will be present with it at the ebbing of the waters. And the new world which emerges from this chaos will behold, on its awakening, the thought of the world which has been submerged, soaring above it, winged and living. And when one observed that this mode of expression is not only the most conservative, but also the most simple, the most convenient, the most practicable for all. When one reflects that it does not drag after it bulky baggage, and does not set in motion a heavy application, When one compares thought forced, in order to transform itself into an edifice, to put in motion four or five other arts and tons of gold, a whole mountain of stones, a whole forest of timberwork, a whole nation of workmen. When one compares it to the thought which becomes a book, and for which a little paper, a little ink, and a pen suffice, how can one be surprised that human

Starting point is 07:44:18 intelligence should have quitted architecture for printing. Cut the primitive bed of a river abruptly, with a canal hollowed out below its level, and the river will desert its bed. Behold how, beginning with the discovery of printing, architecture withers away little by little, becomes lifeless and bare. How one feels the water sinking, the sap departing, the thought of the times and of the people withdrawing from it. The chill is almost imperceptible in the 15th century. The press is, as yet too weak,

Starting point is 07:44:55 and at the most draws from powerful architecture a superabundance of life. But practically beginning in the 16th century, the melody of architecture is visible. It is no longer the expression of society. It becomes classic art in a miserable manner. From being Gallic, European, indigenous, it becomes Greek and Roman. From being true and modern, it becomes pseudoclassic. It is this decadence, which is called the Renaissance. A magnificent decadence, however, for the ancient Gothic genius, that sun, which sets behind the gigantic press of Mayence, still penetrates for a while longer with its rays that whole hybrid pile of Latin arcades and Corinthian columns. It is that setting sun which we mistake for the dawn.

Starting point is 07:45:51 Nevertheless, from the moment when architecture is no longer anything but an art like any other, as soon as it is no longer the total art, the sovereign art, the tyrant art, it has no longer the power to retain the other arts. So they emancipate themselves, break the yoke of the architect and take themselves off, each one in its own direction. Each one of them gains by this divorce. Isolation aggrandizes everything. Sculpture becomes statuary.

Starting point is 07:46:24 The image trade becomes painting. The canon becomes music. One would pronounce it an empire dismembered at the death of its Alexander and whose provinces become kingdoms. Hence Raphael, Michelangelo, Jeanne Gaugon, Palestrina, those splendors of the dazzling 16th century. Thought emancipates itself in all directions at the same time as the arts.

Starting point is 07:46:53 The archeretics of the Middle Ages had already made large incisions into Catholicism. The 16th century breaks religious unity. Before the invention of printing, reform would have been merely a schism. Printing converted it into a revolution. Take away the press, heresy is enervated. Whether it be providence or fate, Gutenberg is the precursor of Luther. Nevertheless, when the sun of the Middle Ages is completely set, when the Gothic genius is forever extinct upon the horizon, architecture grows dim, loses its color,

Starting point is 07:47:30 becomes more and more effaced. The printed book, the gnawing worm of the edifice, sucks and devours it. It becomes bare, denuded of its foliage, and grows visibly emaciated. It is petty, it is poor, it is nothing. It no longer expresses anything, not even the memory of the art of another time. Reduced to itself, abandoned by the other arts, because human thought is abandoning it. It summons bunglers in place of artists. Glass replaces the painted windows. The stone cutter succeeds the sculptor. Farewell all sap, all originality, all life, all intelligence. It drags along, a lamentable workshop mendicant from copy to copy. Michelangelo, who, no doubt, felt even in the 16th century that it was dying,

Starting point is 07:48:28 had a last idea, an idea of despair. That Titan of Art piled the Pantheon on the Parthenon, and made St. Peter's at Rome. A great work, which deserved to remain unique. the last originality of architecture, the signature of a giant artist at the bottom of the colossal register of stone which was closed forever. With Michelangelo dead, what does this miserable architecture which survived itself in the state of a spectre do? It takes St. Peter in Rome, copies it, and parodies it. It is a mania, it is a pity. Each century has its St. Peter's of Rome. In the 17th century, the Val de Grasse. In the 18th, Saint-Jean Viev. Each country has its St.

Starting point is 07:49:20 Peters of Rome. London has one. Petersburg has another. Paris has two or three. The insignificant testament, the last dotage of a decrepit grand art falling back into infancy before it dies. If, in place of the characteristic monuments which we have just described, we examine the general aspect of art from the 16th to the 18th century, we noticed the same phenomenon of decay and thysus. Beginning with Francois II, the architectural form of the edifice effaces itself more and more, and allows the geometrical form, like the bony structure of an emaciated invalid to become prominent. The fine lines of art give way to the cold and inexorable lines of geometry.

Starting point is 07:50:12 An edifice is no longer an edifice. It is a polyhedron. Meanwhile, architecture is tormented in her struggles to conceal this nudity. Look at the Greek pediment inscribed upon the Roman pediment and vice versa. It is still the pantheon on the Parthenon, St. Peter's of Rome. Here are the brick-hiscan houses of Henri IV with their stone corners. The Place Royale, the Place Dauphin. Here are the churches of Louis the 13th, heavy, squat, thick-set, crowded together, loaded with a dome like a hump. Here is the Mazarin architecture, that wretched Italian pasticho of the four nations. Here are the palaces of Louis the 14th, long barracks for courtiers, stiff, cold, tiresome. Here finally is Louis the 15th, with chicory leaves and vermicelli, and all the warts and all the fungi, which

Starting point is 07:51:13 disfigure that decrepit, toothless, and coquettish old architecture. From Francois II to to Louis the 15th, the evil has increased in geometrical progression. Art has no longer anything but skin upon its bones. It is miserably perishing. Meanwhile, what becomes of printing? All the life which is leaving architecture comes to it. In proportion as architecture ebbs, printing swells and grows. That capital of forces which human thought had been expending in edifices, it henceforth expends in books. Thus, from the 16th century onward, the pretexts The press, raised to the level of decaying architecture, contends with it and kills it. In the 17th century, it is already sufficiently the sovereign, sufficiently triumphant,

Starting point is 07:52:10 sufficiently established in its victory, to give to the world the feast of a great literary century. In the 18th, having reposed for a long time at the court of Louis XIV, it seizes again the old sword of Luther, puts it into the hand of Voltaire, and rushes impetuously to the attack of that ancient Europe, whose architectural expression it has already killed. At the moment when the 18th century comes to an end, it has destroyed everything. In the 19th, it begins to reconstruct. Now we ask, which of the three arts has really represented human thought for the last three centuries, which translates it, which expresses it, which expresses it, which expresses,

Starting point is 07:52:55 not only its literary and scholastic vagaries, but its vast, profound, universal movement, which constantly superposes itself without a break, without a gap upon the human race, which walks a monster with a thousand legs, architecture, or printing. It is printing. Let the reader make no mistake. Architecture is dead, irretrievably slain by the printed book, slain because it indebted, for a shorter time, slain because it costs more. Every cathedral represents millions. Let the reader now imagine what an investment of funds it would require to rewrite the architectural book, to cause thousands of edifices to swarm once more upon the soil. To return to those epochs when the

Starting point is 07:53:48 throng of monuments was such, according to the statement of an eyewitness, that one would have said that the world in shaking itself, had cast off its old garments in order to cover itself with a white vesture of churches. Irrat Inim Utsimundas, Ipsi exu tiento semit, rejecta vetustate, candida ecclesiarium vestam induret. Glaber Rodolphus. A book is so soon made, cost so little, and can go so far. How can it surprise us that all huge, you?

Starting point is 07:54:24 human thought flows in this channel. This does not mean that architecture will not still have a fine monument, an isolated masterpiece here and there. We may still have from time to time, under the reign of printing, a column made, I suppose, by a whole army from melted cannon, as we had under the reign of architecture, Iliads and Romanceros, Mahat Barata, and Naimulungan leads, made by a whole people, with rhapsodies piled up, and melted together. The great accident of an architect of genius may happen in the 20th century, like that of Dante in the 13th. But architecture will no longer be the social art, the collective art, the dominating art. The grand poem, the grand edifice, the grand work of humanity will no

Starting point is 07:55:17 longer be built, it will be printed. And henceforth, if architecture should arise again accidentally, it will no longer be mistress. It will be subservient to the law of literature, which formerly received the law from it. The respective positions of the two arts will be inverted. It is certain that in architectural epics, the poems, rare it is true, resemble the monuments. In India, Vyasa is branching, strange, impenetrable as a pagoda. In Egyptian Orient, poetry has like the edifices, grandeur, and tranquility of line. In antique Greece, beauty, serenity, calm. In Christian Europe, the Catholic Majesty, the popular naivete, the rich and luxuriant vegetation of an epoch of renewal. The Bible resembles the pyramids. The Iliad, the Parthenon. Homer

Starting point is 07:56:17 Fiddeus. Dante in the 13th century is the last Romanesque church. Shakespeare in the 16th, the last Gothic cathedral. Thus, to sum up what we have hitherto said, in a fashion which is necessarily incomplete and mutilated, the human race has two books, two registers, two testaments, masonry and printing, the Bible of stone and the Bible of paper. No doubt, when one contemplates these two Bibles, laid so broadly open in the centuries,

Starting point is 07:56:52 it is permissible to regret the visible majesty of the writing of granite, those gigantic alphabets formulated in colonnades, in pylons, in obelisks, those sorts of human mountains which cover the world and the past, from the pyramid to the bell tower, from Chiops to Strasbourg. The past must be re-read upon these pages of marble. This book, written by architecture, must be admired and perused incessantly, but the grandeur of the edifice which printing erects in its turn must not be denied. That edifice is colossal. Some compiler of statistics has calculated that if all the volumes which have issued from the press since Gutenberg's day were to be piled one upon another, they would fill the space between the earth and the moon. But it is not that sort of grandeur of which we wish to

Starting point is 07:57:47 speak. Nevertheless, when one tries to collect in one's mind a comprehensive image of the total products of printing down to our own days, does not that total appear to us like an immense construction resting upon the entire world at which humanity toils without relaxation, and whose monstrous crest is lost in the profound mists of the future? It is the ant-hill of intelligence. It is the hive whither come all imaginations, though, those golden bees with their honey. The edifice has a thousand stories. Here and there one beholds on its staircases

Starting point is 07:58:27 the gloomy caverns of science which pierce its interior. Everywhere upon its surface, art causes its arabesques, rosettes, and laces to thrive luxurately before the eyes. There, every individual work, however capricious and isolated it may seem, has its place and its priscence, and its projection. Harmony results from the whole. From the Cathedral of Shakespeare to the mosque of Byron, a thousand tiny bell towers are piled pell-mell above this metropolis of universal thought.

Starting point is 07:59:03 At its base are written some ancient titles of humanity, which architecture had not registered. To the left of the entrance has been fixed the ancient bar relief in white marble of Homer. To the right, the polyglot Bible rears its seven heads. The hydra of the Romancero and some other hybrid forms, the Vitas and the Nibolung and bristle further on. Nevertheless, the prodigious edifice still remains incomplete. The press, that giant machine, which incessantly pumps all the intellectual sap of society,

Starting point is 07:59:41 belches forth without pause fresh materials for its work. The whole human race is on the scaffoldings. Each mind is a mason. The humblest fills his hole or places his stone. Retif de la Breton brings his heart of plaster. Every day a new course rises. Independently of the original and individual contribution of each writer, there are collective contingents. The 18th century gives the encyclopedia. The revolution gives the monoture. Assuredly, it is a construction which increases and piles up in endless spirals. There also are confusion of tongues, incessant activity, indefatigable labor, eager competition of all humanity, refuge promised to intelligence, a new flood against an overflow of barbarians.

Starting point is 08:00:37 It is the second Tower of Babel of the human race. End of Book 5, Chapter 2. 6, Chapter 1, of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 6, Chapter 1, An Impartial Glance at the Ancient Magistracy. A very happy personage in the year of Grace, 1482, was the noble gentleman Robert D'Esteauvy, Chevalier-Dabain, Baron de Vry, and Saint-André on La Marchet, counselor and Chamberlain to the King, and guard of the Provost ship of Paris.

Starting point is 08:01:35 It was already nearly seventeen years since he had received from the King, on November 7, 1465, the Comet Year, that fine charge of the Provost ship of Paris, which was reputed rather a signory than an office. Dignitas, says Johan's Lomnoes. coe com non-exiguat patestate politium consernente, at quee prerogrativis multis et juribus conjuncta a marvelous thing in 82 was a gentleman bearing the king's commission and whose letters of institution ran back to the epoch

Starting point is 08:02:16 of the marriage of the natural daughter of Louis X. with Monsieur the bastard of Bourbonne. The same day in which Robbins, D'Eauvet took the place of Jacques de Villiers in the provostship of Paris, Master Jeanne Dovey replaced Messier-Elié de Torez in the first presidency of the Court of Parliament. Jeanne Jovenel de Ursan supplanted Pierre de Morvilliers in the office of the Chancellor of France. Renaud de Dormand ousted Pierre P. from the charge of Master of Requests in ordinary of the King's household.

Starting point is 08:02:52 Now, upon how many heads had the presidency, the chancellorship, the master ship passed, since Robert Destovie had held the provost ship of Paris. It had been granted to him for safekeeping, as the letter's patent said, and certainly he kept it well. He had clung to it. He had incorporated himself with it. He had so identified himself with it that he had escaped that fury for change which possessed Louis XI. 11th, a tormenting and industrious king, whose policy it was to

Starting point is 08:03:29 maintain the elasticity of his power by frequent appointments and revocations. More than this, the brave chevalier had obtained the reversion of the office for his son, and for two years already the name of the nobleman Jacques Destovie, Equiry, had figured beside his at the head of the register of the salary list of the provostship of Paris. A rare and notable favor indeed. It is true that Robert Destovie was a good soldier, that he had loyally raised his penin against the League of Public Good, and that he had presented to the Queen a very marvelous stag in confectionery

Starting point is 08:04:09 on the day of her entrance to Paris in fourteen. Moreover, he possessed the good friendship of Monsieur Tristan Lermite, provost of the Marshals of the King's household. Hence, a very sweet and pleasant existence was that of Monsieur Robert. In the first place, very good wages, to which were attached, and from which hung, like extra bunches of grapes on his vine, the revenues of the civil and criminal registries of the provostship, plus the civil and criminal revenues of the tribunals of Embass of the Chattelet, without reckoning some little toll from the bridges of Montailles and of Corbeil,

Starting point is 08:04:52 and the profits on the craft of chagrin-makers of Paris, on the quarters of firewood and the measurers of salt. Add to this the pleasure of displaying himself in rides about the city, and of making his fine military costume, which, you may still admire, sculptured on his tomb in the abbey of Valmont in Normandy, and his Morian, all embossed at Montlery, stand out a contrast against the party-colored red and tawny robes of the alderman and police. And then was it nothing to wield absolute supremacy over the sergeants of the police, the porter and watch of the Chatele, the two auditors of the Chatele, Otit Torres Castelliti,

Starting point is 08:05:36 the sixteen commissioners of the sixteen quarters, the jailer of the Chatele, the four and fioft sergeants, the hundred and twenty mounted sergeants with maces, the Chevalier of the watch, with his watch, his sub-watch, his counter-watch, and his rear-watch? Was it nothing to exercise high and low justice, the right to interrogate, to hang and to draw, without reckoning petty jurisdiction in the first resort, in prima instantia, as the Charter say, on that vicomte of Paris, so nobly appanaged with seven noble bailiwicks? Can anything sweeter be imagined than rendering judgments and decisions, as Monsieur Robert Destovi daily did in the Grand Chatelle, under the large and flattened arches of Philip

Starting point is 08:06:28 Augustus, and going, as he was wont to do every evening, to that charming house situated in the Rue Galilee, in the enclosure of the royal palace, which he held in right of his wife, Madame Ambois de L'Oret to repose after the fatigue of having sent some poor wretch to pass the night in that little cell of the Rue de Escortiery, which the provosts and the alderman of Paris used to make their prison, the same being eleven feet long, seven feet and four inches wide, and eleven feet high. And not only had Monsieur Robert Destovie his special court as provost and Vycompt of Paris, but in addition he had a share, both for eye and tooth, in the grand court of the king.

Starting point is 08:07:16 There was no head in the least elevated which had not passed through his hands before it came to the headsman. It was he who went to seek M. de Nemours at the Bastille Saint-Antoine, in order to conduct him to the hall, and to conduct to the greve Messer de Saint-Paul, who clamored and resisted to the great joy of the provost who did not love Monsieur the constable. Here, assuredly, is more than sufficient to render a life happy and illustrious, and to deserve some day a notable page in that interesting history of the provosts of Paris, where one learns that Udard de Villeneuve had a house in the Rue de Boucherie,

Starting point is 08:08:00 that Gaiom de Angeste purchased the Great and the Little Savoy, That Gaillom Thibaut gave the nuns of Saint-Jeanviav his houses in the Ruclopin, that Ugué-Obreuil lived in the Hotel du Poré-Epec and other domestic facts. Nevertheless, with so many reasons for taking life patiently and joyously, Monsieur Robert Destovie woke up on the morning of the 7th of January, 1482, in a very surly and peevish mood. Whence came this ill temper, he could not have told himself. Was it because the sky was grey, or was the buckle of his old belt of motlerie badly fastened,

Starting point is 08:08:44 so that it confined his provostal portliness too closely? Had he beheld ribald fellows, marching in bands of four beneath his window, and setting him at defiance in doublets but no shirts, hats without crowns, with wallet and bottle at their side? Was it a vague presentiment of the three hundred and seventy livres, sixteen sous, eight farthings, which the future king Sharos the seventh was to cut off from the provostship in the following year? The reader can take his choice. We, for our part, are much inclined to believe that he was in a bad humor,

Starting point is 08:09:23 simply because he was in a bad humor. Moreover, it was the day after a festival, a tiresome day for everyone, and, above all, for the magistrate, who is charged with sweeping away all the filth, properly and figuratively speaking, which a festival day produces in Paris. And then he had to hold a sitting at the Grand Chattelais. Now we have noticed that judges in general so arrange matters that their day of audience shall also be their day of bad humor, so that they may always have someone upon whom to vent it conveniently, in the name of the king, law, and justice.

Starting point is 08:10:01 However, the audience had begun without him. His lieutenants, civil, criminal, and private were doing his work, according to usage. And from eight o'clock in the morning, some scores of bourgeois and bourgeoisie heaped and crowded into an obscure corner of the audience-chambe of Embass to Chattelais, between a stout oaken barrier and the wall, had been gazing blissfully at the varied and cheerful spectacle of civil and criminal justice dispensed by Master Florian Barbadian, auditor of the Chateley, lieutenant of Monsieur the Provost, in a somewhat confused and utterly haphazard manner. The hall was small, low, vaulted. A table with Fleur-de-Lee stood at one end, with a large armchair of carved oak, which belonged to the Provost and was empty, and a stool on the left

Starting point is 08:10:56 for the auditor, Master Florian. Below sat the clerk of the court, scribbling. Opposite was the populace, and in front of the door and in front of the table were many sergeants of the provostship in sleeveless jackets of violet Camlet, with white crosses. Two sergeants of the Pardois of Bourgeois,

Starting point is 08:11:17 clothed in their jackets of Toussaint, half-red, half-blue, were posted as sentinels before a low-closed door, which was visible at the extremity of the hall, behind the table. A single-pointed window, narrowly encased in the thick wall, illuminated with a pale ray of January sun two grotesque figures, the capricious demon of stone carved as a tailpiece in the keystone of the vaulted ceiling, and the judge seated at the end of the hall on the Fleur-de-Lee. Imagine, in fact, at the provost table, leaning upon his elbows between two

Starting point is 08:11:54 bundles of documents of cases, with his foot on the train of his robe of plain brown cloth, his face buried in his hood of white lambskin, of which his brows seemed to be of a piece, red, crabbed, winking, bearing majestically the load of fat on his cheeks which met under his chin, Master Florian Barbadian, Auditor of the Chatellae. Now the auditor was deaf. A slight defect in an auditor. Master Florian, in delivered judgment, nonetheless, without appeal, and very suitably. It is certainly quite sufficient for a judge to have the air of listening, and the venerable auditor fulfilled this condition, the sole one in justice,

Starting point is 08:12:37 all the better, because his attention could not be distracted by any noise. Moreover, he had in the audience a pitiless censor of his deeds and gestures, in the person of our friend Jean Frollo du Milan, that, little student of yesterday, that stroller, whom one was sure of encountering all over Paris, anywhere, except before the rostrums of the professors. Stay, he said in a low tone to his companion, Roban Puspan, who was grinning at his side while he was making his comments on the scenes which were being unfolded before his eyes. "'Yonder is Jehanatan du Poisson, the beautiful daughter of the lazy dog at the Marche Nuffe,

Starting point is 08:13:25 Upon my soul, he is condemning her the old rascal. He has no more eyes than ears. Fifteen sues four farthings Parisian for having worn two rosaries. Tis somewhat dear. Lex Durie Carmini's. Who's that? Robin-Shefdavi, Hobbermaker. For having been passed and received master of the said trade.

Starting point is 08:13:52 That's his entrance money. "'Eh, two gentlemen among these knaves. "'Eglaid des Soine, Uten de Mali, "'two equeries, Corpus, Christi. "'Ah, they have been playing at dice. "'When shall I see our rector here?' "'A hundred livres Parisian, fine to the king, "'that Barbadian strikes like a deaf man, as he is.

Starting point is 08:14:19 "'I'll be my brother, the archdeacon, "'if that keeps me from gaming, gaming by day, gaming by night, living at play, dying at play, and gaming away my soul after my short. Holy Virgin, what damsels! One after the other, my lambs. Ambois-Loucier, Isabelle Lapinette, Berra Gironin. I know them all by heavens. A fine, a fine! That's what will teach you to wear gilded girdles! Ten sous Parisie! You coquettes! Oh, the old snout of a judge!

Starting point is 08:14:57 Death and imbecile! Oh, Florian the Dolt! Oh, Barbadian the blockhead! There he is at the table. He's eating the plaintiff. He's eating the suits. He eats, he chews, he crams, he fills himself. Fines, lost goods, taxes, expenses, loyal charges,

Starting point is 08:15:21 salaries, damages, and interests, Gahena, prison, and jail, and fetters with expenses, are Christmas spice-cake and mashpan of St. John to him. Look at him, the pig. Come, good, another amorous woman. Tibo la Tibo, neither more nor less, for having come from the Rue Glatigny.

Starting point is 08:15:45 What fellow is this? Jeffois Mabon, gendarme bearing the crossbow. He has cursed the name of the father. A fine for La Thibaut, a fine for Jaffois, a fine for them both. The deaf, old fool, he must have mixed up the two cases. Ten to one that he makes the wench pay for the oath and the gendarme for the amour.

Starting point is 08:16:10 Attention, Roban Pespain. What are they going to bring in? Here are many sergeants. By Jupiter, all the bloodhounds of the pack are there. It must be the great beast of the hunt, a wild boar. And tis one, Roban, tis one, and a fine one, too. E. Clay! Tis our prince of yesterday! Our Pope of the Fools! Our bell-ringer, our one-eyed man, our hunchback, our grimace. Tis Quasimodo!

Starting point is 08:16:41 It was he indeed. It was Quasimodo, bound, encircled, roped, pinioned, and under good guard. The squad of policemen who surrounded him was assisted by the chevalier of the watch in person, wearing the arms of France embroidered on his breast and the arms of the city on his back. There was nothing, however, about Quasimodo, except his deformity which could justify the display of halberds and arquebuses. He was gloomy, silent, and tranquil. Only now and then did his single eye cast a sly and wrathful glance upon the bonds with which he was loaded. He cast the same glance about him, but it was so dull and sleepy that the women only pointed him out to each other in derision. Meanwhile, Master Florium, the auditor, turned over

Starting point is 08:17:33 attentively the document in the complaint entered against Quasimodo, which the clerk handed him, and having thus glanced at it, appeared to reflect for a moment. Thanks to this precaution, which he always was careful to take at the moment when on the point of beginning an examination, he knew beforehand the names, titles, and misdeeds of the accused, made cut-and-dried responses to questions foreseen, and succeeded in extricating himself from all the windings of the interrogation without allowing his deafness to be too apparent. The written charges were to him what the dog is to the blind man. If his deafness did happen to betray him here and there, by some incoherent apostrophe or some unintelligible question, it passed for profundity with some and for imbecility with others. In neither case did the honor of the magistracy sustain any injury, for it is far better that a judge should be reputed imbecile or profound than death.

Starting point is 08:18:36 Hence, he took great care to conceal his deafness from the eyes of all, and he generally succeeded so well that he had reached the point of deluding himself, which is, by the way, easier than is supposed. All hunchbacks walk with their heads held high, all stutterers harangue, all deaf people speak low. As for him, he believed, at the most, that his ear was a little refractory. It was the sole concession which he made on this point to public opinion, in his moments of frankness and examination of his conscience. Having then thoroughly ruminated Quasimodo's affair, he threw back his head and half closed his eyes, for the sake of more majesty and impartiality, so that at that moment he was

Starting point is 08:19:25 both deaf and blind. A double condition without which no judge is perfect. It was in this magisterial attitude that he began the examination. Your name? Now, this was a case which had not been provided for by law, where a deaf man should be obliged to question a deaf man. Quasimodo, whom nothing warned that a question had been addressed to him, continued to stare intently at the judge and made no reply. The judge, being deaf, and being in no way warned of the deaf,

Starting point is 08:20:02 of the accused, thought that the latter had answered, as all accused do in general, and therefore he pursued with his mechanical and stupid self-possession. "'Very well! And your age?' Again, Quasimodo made no reply to this question. The judge supposed that it had been replied to, and continued. "'Now, your profession!' Still the same silence.

Starting point is 08:20:31 The spectators had begun. meanwhile to whisper together and to exchange glances. "'That will do,' went on the imperturbable auditor, when he supposed that the accused had finished his third reply. "'You are accused before us, Primo, of nocturnal disturbance, secondo of a dishonorable act of violence upon the person of a foolish woman, improjudicium metricus, "'Tertio, of rebellion and disloyalty

Starting point is 08:21:04 "'tie towards the arches of the police of our Lord the King. "'Explain yourself upon all these points. "'Clerk, have you written down what the prisoner has said thus far?' "'At this unlucky question, a burst of laughter rose from the clerk's table "'caught by the audience, so violent, so wild, so contagious, so universal, "'that the two deaf men were forced to perceive it. Quasimodo turned round, shrugging his hump with disdain, while Master Florian, equally astonished, and supposing that the laughter of the spectators had been provoked by some irreverent reply from the accused,

Starting point is 08:21:43 rendered visibly to him by that shrug of the shoulders, apostrophized him in dignity. "'You have uttered a reply, knave, which deserves the halter. Do you know to whom you are speaking?' This Sally was not fitted to arrest the explosion of General Merriment. It struck all as so whimsical and so ridiculous that the wild laughter even attacked the sergeants of the Parois a bourgeois, a sort of pikeman, whose stupidity was part of their uniform. Quasimodo alone preserved his seriousness for the good reason that he understood nothing of what was going on around him.

Starting point is 08:22:24 The judge, more and more irritated, thought it his duty to continue in the same tone, hoping thereby to strike the accused with a terror which should react upon the audience and bring it back to respect. So, this is as much as to say, perverse and thieving knave that you are, that you permit yourself to be lacking in respect towards the auditor of the Chattelet, to the magistrate committed to the popular police. of Paris, charged with searching out crimes, delinquencies, and evil conduct, with controlling all trades, and interdicting monopoly, with maintaining the pavements, with debarring the

Starting point is 08:23:08 hucksters of chickens, poultry, and waterfowl, of superintending the measuring of faggots and other sorts of wood, of purging the city of mud and the air of contagious maladies, in a word with attending continually to public affairs without wages or hope of salary. Do you know that I am called Florian Barbadian, actual lieutenant to Monsieur the Provost, and moreover, commissioner, inquisitor, controller, and examiner, with equal power in provostship, bailiwick, preservation, and inferior court of judicature? There was no reason why a deaf man talking to a deaf man should stop. God knows where and when Master Florian would have landed,

Starting point is 08:23:57 when thus launched at full speed in lofty eloquence, if the low door at the extreme end of the room had not suddenly opened, and given entrance to the provost in person. At his entrance, Master Florian did not stop short, but, making a half turn on his heels, and aiming at the provost the harangue with which, he had been withering Quasimodo a moment before. "'Monsignor,' said he,

Starting point is 08:24:23 "'I demand such penalty as you shall de-fitting against the prisoner here present, for the grave and aggravated offense against the court.' And he seated himself utterly breathless, wiping away the great drops of sweat which fell from his brow and drenched like tears, the parchment spread out before him. Monsieur Robert de Stouvi frowned and made a gesture so imperious and significant to Quasimodo that the deaf man in some measure understood it.

Starting point is 08:24:55 The provost addressed him with severity. "'What have you done that you have been brought hither, naive?' The poor fellow, supposing that the provost was asking his name, broke the silence which he habitually preserved, and replied in a harsh and guttural voice, Quasimodo. The reply matched the question so little that the wild laugh began to circulate once more, and Monsieur Robert exclaimed, read with wrath,

Starting point is 08:25:27 Are you mocking me also, you errant knave? Bell-ringer of Notre Dame, replied Quasimodo, supposing that what was required of him was to explain to the judge who he was. "'Belringer!' interpreted the provost, who had waked up early enough to be in a sufficiently bad temper, as we have said, not to require to have his fury inflamed by such strange responses. "'Belringer! I'll play you a chime of rods on your back through the squares of Paris. Do you hear,

Starting point is 08:26:04 "'Nave?' "'If it is my age that you wish to know,' said Quasimodo, I think that I shall be twenty at St. Martin's Day. This was too much. The provost could no longer restrain himself. Ah, you are scoffing at the provost ship, wretch. Monsieur is the sergeants of the Mace. You will take me this knave to the pillory of the greve.

Starting point is 08:26:34 You will flog him and turn him for an hour. He shall pay me for it. Tette d'ur, and I order that the present judgment shall be cried, with the assistance of four sworn trumpeters in the seven castellanies of the Visconti of Paris. The clerk said to work incontinently to draw up the account of the sentence. Ventre d'est well adjudged, cried the little scholar, Jehan Frollo de Moulin from his corner. The provost turned and fixed his flashing eyes once more unquestioned. I believe the knave said Vantre Dieu.

Starting point is 08:27:15 Clerk, add twelve deniers Parisian for the oath, and let the vestry of Saint-Eustache have the half of it. I have a particular devotion for Saint-Eustache. In a few minutes the sentence was drawn up. Its tenor was simple and brief. The customs of the provostship and the Vycomte had not yet been worked over by President Thibaut Berle and by Roger. Barmney, the King's advocate. They had not been obstructed at that time by that lofty hedge of quibbles and procedures, which the two Juris-consults planted there at the beginning

Starting point is 08:27:52 of the 16th century. All was clear, expeditious, explicit. One went straight to the point, then, and at the end of every path there was immediately visible, without thickets and without turnings, the wheel, the gibbet or the pillory. one at least knew whither one was going. The clerk presented the sentence to the provost, who affixed his seal to it, and departed to pursue his round of the audience hall, in a frame of mind which seemed destined to fill all the jails in Paris that day. John Frollo and Robain-Pos-Pan laughed in their sleeves.

Starting point is 08:28:31 Quasimoto gazed on the hole with an indifferent and astonished air. However, at the moment when Master Florian Barbadian was reading the sentence in his turn, before signing it, the clerk felt himself moved with pity for the poor wretch of a prisoner, and in the hope of obtaining some mitigation of the penalty, he approached as near the auditor's ear as possible, and said, pointing to Quasimodo, "'That man is deaf!' He hoped that this community of infirmity would awaken Master Florian's interest in behalf of the condemned man. But in the first place, We have already observed that Master Florian did not care to have his deafness noticed.

Starting point is 08:29:15 In the next place, he was so hard of hearing that he did not catch a single word of what the clerk said to him. Nevertheless, he wished to have the appearance of hearing, and replied, Ah! Ah, that is different! I did not know that. An hour more of the pillory in that case. And he signed the sentence thus modified. "'Tis well done,' said Roban Pouspan, who cherished a grudge against Quasimoto. That will teach him to handle people roughly. End of Book 6, Chapter 1. Book 6, Chapter 2 of The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 08:30:08 Book 6 Chapter 2, The Rat Hole. The reader must permit us to take him back to the Place de Greve, which we quitted yesterday with Gringua in order to follow La Esmeralda. It is ten o'clock in the morning. Everything is indicative of the day after a festival. The pavement is covered with rubbish. Ribbons, rags, feathers from tufts of plumes, drops of wax from the torches, crumbs of the public feast. A goodly number of bourgeois are sauntering, as we say, here and there. turning over with their feet the extinct brands of the bonfire, going into raptures in front of the pillar-house over the memory of the fine hangings of the day before, and today, staring at the nails that secured them a last pleasure. The vendors of cider and beer are rolling

Starting point is 08:31:00 their barrels among the groups. Some busy passers-by come and go. The merchants converse and call to each other from the thresholds of their shops. The festival, the ambassadors, Copanol, the Pope of the fools, are in all mouths. They vie with each other, each trying to criticize it best and laugh the most. And meanwhile, four mounted sergeants, who have just posted themselves at the four sides of the pillory, have already concentrated around themselves a good proportion of the populace scattered on the place, who condemn themselves to immobility and fatigue in the hope of a small execution. If the reader, after having contemplated this lively and noisy scene, which is being enacted in all parts of the place,

Starting point is 08:31:49 will now transfer his gaze towards that ancient demigothic, demi-Romanesque house of the Tua Roland, which forms the corner of the key to the west, he will observe, at the angle of the façade, a large public breviary, with rich illuminations protected from the rain by a little penthouse, and from thieves by a small grating, which, however, permits of the leaves being turned. Besides this breviary is a narrow arched window, closed by two iron bars in the form of a cross, and looking on the square. The only opening, which admits a small quantity of light and air to a little cell without a door, constructed on the ground floor, in the thickness of the walls of the old house,

Starting point is 08:32:36 and filled with a peace all the more profound, with a silence all the more gloomy, because a public place, the most populous and most noisy in Paris, swarms and shrieks around it. This little cell had been celebrated in Paris for nearly three centuries, ever since Madame Roland de la Tour Roland in mourning for her father, who died in the Crusades, had caused it to be hollowed out in the wall of her own house, in order to immediately. mere herself there forever, keeping of all her palace only this lodging whose door was walled up, and whose window stood open, winter and summer, giving all the rest to the poor and to God. The afflicted damsel had, in effect, waited twenty years for death in this premature tomb,

Starting point is 08:33:26 praying night and day for the soul of her father, sleeping in ashes, without even a stone for a pillow, clothed in a black sack, and subsisting on the bread and water which the compassion of the passers-by led them to deposit on the ledge of her window, thus receiving charity after having bestowed it. At her death, at the moment when she was passing to the other sepulchre, she had bequeathed this one in perpetuity to afflicted women, mothers, widows, or maidens who should wish to pray much for others or for themselves, and who should desire to inter themselves alive in a great grief or a great penance. The poor of her day had made her a fine funeral, with tears and benedictions.

Starting point is 08:34:11 But to their great regret, the pious maid had not been canonized, for lack of influence. Those among them, who were a little inclined to impiety, had hoped that the matter might be accomplished in paradise more easily than at Rome, and had frankly besought God, instead of the Pope, in behalf of the deceased. The majority had contended themselves with holding the memory of Roland's sacred, and converting her rags into relics. The city, on its side, had founded, in honor of the damoiselle, a public breviary, which had been fastened near the window of the cell, in order that passers-by might halt there from time to time, were it only to pray. That prayer might remind them of alms, and that poor recluses, heiresses of Madame Roland's

Starting point is 08:35:01 vault, might not die outright of hunger and forgetfulness. Moreover, this sort of tomb was not so very rare a thing in the cities of the Middle Ages. One often encountered in the most frequented street, in the most crowded and noisy market, in the very middle, under the feet of the horses, under the wheels of the carts, as it were, a cellar, a well, a tiny walled and grated cabin, at the bottom of which a human being prayed night and day, voluntarily devoted to some eternal lamentation, to some great expiation. And all the reflections which that strange spectacle would awaken in us today, that horrible

Starting point is 08:35:43 cell, a sort of intermediary link between a house and the tomb, the cemetery and the city, that living being cut off from the human community, and thenceforth reckoned among the dead, that lamp consuming its last drop of oil in the darkness, that remnant of life flickering in the grave, that breath, that voice, that eternal prayer in a box of stone, that face forever turned towards the other world, that eye already illuminated with another sun, that ear pressed to the walls of a tomb, that soul a prisoner in that body, that body a prisoner in that dungeon cell, and beneath that double envelope of flesh and granite the murmur of that soul in pain. Nothing of all this was perceived by the crowd.

Starting point is 08:36:38 The piety of that age, not very subtle nor much given to reasoning, did not see so many facets in an act of religion. It took the thing in the block, honored, venerated, hollowed the sacrifice at need, but did not analyze the sufferings, and felt but moderate pity for them. It brought some pittance to the miserable penitent from time to time, looked through the hole to see whether he were still living. For God his name, hardly knew how many years ago he had begun to die. And to the stranger, who questioned them about the living skeleton who was perishing in that cellar, the neighbors replied simply, it is the recluse. Everything was then viewed

Starting point is 08:37:23 without metaphysics, without exaggeration, without magnifying glass, with the naked eye. The microscope had not yet been invented, either for things of matter or for things of the mind. Moreover, although people were but little surprised by it, the examples of this sort of cloistration in the hearts of cities were in truth frequent, as we have just said. There were in Paris a considerable number of these cells for praying to God and doing penance. They were nearly all occupied. It is true that the clergy did not like to have them empty, since that implied lukewarmness in believers, and that lepers were put into them when there were no penitence on hand. Besides the cell on the greve, there was one at Montfosson, one at the

Starting point is 08:38:12 Charnier de Innocence, another I hardly know where, at the Clichon House, I think, others still at many spots where traces of them are found in traditions in default of memorials. The university had also its own. On Mount San Jambiev, a sort of Job of the Middle Ages, for the space of thirty years, chanted the seven penitential psalms on a dung hill at the bottom of a cistern, beginning anew when he had finished, singing loudest at night. Magna voce per umbras And today the antiquary fancies that he hears his voice as he enters the rue de Pui-Priilé, the street of the speaking well.

Starting point is 08:38:58 To confine ourselves to the cell in the Tour Roland, we must say that it had never lacked recluses. After the death of Madame Roland, it had stood vacant for a year or two, though rarely. Many women had come thither to mourn until their death, for relatives, lovers, faults. Parisian malice, which thrusts its finger into everything, even into things which concern it the least, affirmed that it had beheld but few widows there. In accordance with the fashion of the epoch, a Latin inscription on the wall indicated to the learned passerby the pious purpose of this cell. The custom was retained until the middle of the

Starting point is 08:39:39 16th century of explaining an edifice by a brief device inscribed above the door. Thus one still reads in France, above the wicket of the prison and the seignorial mansion of Turvi, Sileto et Spira. In Ireland, beneath the armorial bearings which surmount the grand door to Fortescue Castle, Fortescutum Salus duke. In England, over the principal entrance to the hospitable mansion of the Earl's Cowper, Tuomest. At that time, every edifice was a thought. As there was no door to the walled cell of the Tuoland, these two words had been carved in large Roman capitals over the window. Tuorah.

Starting point is 08:40:26 And this caused the people, whose good sense does not perceive so much refinement in things, and likes to translate Ludovico Magno by Porte San Deney, to give this dark, gloomy, damp cavity the name of the rat-hole. An explanation less sublime perhaps than the other, but on the other hand, more picturesque. End of Book 6, Chapter 2. 6, Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 6 Chapter 3. History of Eleven Cake of Mays At the epic of this history, the cell in the Tor-Roland was occupied. If the reader desires to know

Starting point is 08:41:20 by whom, he has only to lend an ear to the conversation of three worthy gossips, who, at the moment when we have directed his attention to the rat-hole, were directing their steps toward the same spot, coming up along the water's edge from the chattelais towards the grieve. Two of these women were dressed like good bourgeoisie of Paris. Their fine white ruffs, their petticoats of Lindsay Woolsey, striped red and blue, their white-knitted stockings with clocks embroidered in colors, well drawn upon their legs. The square-toed shoes of tawny leather with black sole, And above all, their headgear, that sort of tinsel horn loaded down with ribbons and laces, which the women of Champagne still wear, in company with the grenadiers of the Imperial

Starting point is 08:42:10 Guard of Russia, announced that they belong to that class wives, which holds the middle ground between what the lackeys call a woman and what they term a lady. They wore neither rings nor gold crosses, and it was easy to see that, in their ease, this did not proceed from poverty, but simply from fear of being fined. Their companion was attired in very much the same manner, but there was that indescribable something about her dress and bearing which suggested the wife of a provincial notary. One could see, by the way in which her girdle rose above her hips, that she had not been long in Paris.

Starting point is 08:42:52 Add to this a plaited tucker, knots of ribbon on her shoes, and that the stripes of her petticoat ran horizontally instead of vertically, and a thousand other enormities which shocked good taste. The two first walked with that step peculiar to Parisian ladies showing Paris to women from the country. The provincial held by the hand a big boy, who held in his a large flat cake. We regret to be obliged to add that, owing to the rigor of the season, he was using his tongue as a handkerchief. The child was making them drag him along, non-pesibus sequis, as Virgil says, and stumbling at every moment to the great indignation of his mother.

Starting point is 08:43:39 It is true that he was looking at his cake more than at the pavement. Some serious motive, no doubt, prevented his biting it, the cake, for he contended himself with gazing tenderly at it. But the mother should have rather taken charge. of the cake. It was cruel to make a tantalus of the chubby-cheeked boy. Meanwhile, the three damoesels, for the name of Domes, was then reserved for noble women, were all talking at once. "'Let us make haste, damoiselle Mahiet,' said the youngest of the three, who was also the largest, to the provincial. I greatly fear that we shall arrive too late. They told us at the Chatelle

Starting point is 08:44:22 that they were going to take him directly to the pillory. "'Ah, bah! What are you saying, Damoiselle Udard-Munier?' interposed the other Parisienne. "'There are two hours yet to the pillory. We have time enough. Have you ever seen anyone pilloried, my dear Mahiet?' "'Yes,' said the provincial, at rhymes. "'Ah, bah, what is your pillory at rhymes? A miserable cage, into which only peasants are turned. A great affair, truly!' Only peasants, said Mahiet, at the cloth market in rhymes. We have seen very fine criminals there, who have killed their father and mother. Peasants, for what do you take us, Jervais?

Starting point is 08:45:10 It is certain that the provincial was on the point of taking offense for the honor of her pillory, fortunately that discreet d'amoiselle Udard Mounier turned the conversation in time. By the way, damoiselle Mariette, what say you to our Flemish ambassadors? Have you as fine ones at rhymes? I admit, replied Mariette, that it is only in Paris that such Fleming's can be seen. Did you see among the embassy that big ambassador, who is a hosier? asked Udard. Yes, said Mariette. He has the eye of a Saturn.

Starting point is 08:45:49 And the big fellow whose face resembles a bare bare bear. belly, resumed Gervais, and the little one, with small eyes framed in red eyelids, pared down and slashed up like a thistle-head. Tis their horses that are worth seeing, said Udard, comparisoned as they are after the fashion of their country. Ah, my dear, interrupted provincial Mahiet, assuming in her turn an air of superiority. What would you say, then, if you had seen in six years? at the consecration at Rhymes, 18 years ago, the horses of the princes and of the kings' company.

Starting point is 08:46:31 Housings and comparisons of all sorts. Some of damask cloth, a fine cloth of gold, fared with sables, others of velvet, furred with ermine, others all embellished with goldsmith's work and large bells of gold and silver. And what money they had cost! and what handsome boy pages wrote upon them. That, replied Udard dryly, does not prevent the Fleming's having very fine horses,

Starting point is 08:47:01 and having had a superb supper yesterday with Monsieur, the provost of the merchants, at the Odel de V, where they were served with comfits and hippocras and spices and other singularities. "'What are you saying, neighbor?' exclaimed Gervais. It was with Monsieur, the Cardinal, at the Petit Bourbon that they supped. Not at all. At the Hotel de V. Yes, indeed, at the Petit Bourbon.

Starting point is 08:47:30 It was at the Hotel de V, retorted Udard sharply. And Dr. Scrabla addressed them in a harangue in Latin, which pleased them greatly. My husband, who is a sworn bookseller, told me. It was at the Petit Berbon, replied Jervais, with no less spirit, and And this is what Monsieur the Cardinal's procurator presented to them. Twelve double quartz of Hippocross, white, claret, and red. Twenty-four boxes of double Leon Marchpane, gilded, as many torches, worth two levers apiece, and six demicues of bonnet wine, white and claret, the best that could be found. I have it from my husband, who is a cinquentinier at the Parlois-o-Bougeois, and who was this morning

Starting point is 08:48:20 comparing the Flemish ambassadors with those of Prestor John and the Emperor of Trebezon, who came from Mesopotamia to Paris, under the last king, and who wore rings in their ears. "'So true is it that they supped at the Hotel de Vee,' replied Udard, but little affected by this catalogue, that such a triumph of Vions and comfits has never been seen. I tell you that they were served by Lessec, sergeant of the city, at the Hotel de Pétis Bourbon, and that that is where you are mistaken. At the Hotel de V, I tell you. At the Petit Bourbon, my dear, and they had illuminated with magic glasses the word hope,

Starting point is 08:49:06 which is written on the Grand Portal. At the Hotel de V, at the Hotel de V, and Uzon Levoix played the flute. I tell you no. I tell you yes. I say no." Plump and worthy Udard was preparing to retort, and the quarrel might perhaps have proceeded to a pulling of caps, had not Mahiet suddenly exclaimed, "'Look at those people assembled yonder at the end of the bridge. There is something in their midst that they are looking at.' "'In sooth,' said Jervais, "'I hear the sounds of a tambourine. I believe tis the little Esmeralda, who plays her mummeries with her goat. "'A. be quick, Mahiet, redouble your pace and drag along your boy. You are come hither to

Starting point is 08:49:55 visit the curiosities of Paris. You saw the Fleming's yesterday. You must see the gypsy today.' "'The gypsy,' said Mahiet, suddenly retracing her steps and clasping her son's arm forcibly. "'God preserve me from it. She would steal my child from me. Come, Eustache!' And she set out on a run along the key towards the greve, until she had left the bridge far behind her. In the meanwhile, the child whom she was dragging after her fell upon his knees. She halted, breathless.

Starting point is 08:50:29 Udard and Jervais rejoined her. "'That gypsy steal your child from you,' said Jervais. "'That's a singular freak of yours.' Mahiet shook her head with a pensive air. The singular point is. observed Udard, that La Sashet has the same idea about the Egyptian woman. "'What is Lassachet?' asked Mahiet. "'Eh, said Udard. Sister Godoul.'

Starting point is 08:50:58 "'And who is Sister Goodul?' persisted Mahet. "'You are certainly ignorant of all but your rhymes not to know that,' replied Udard. "'Tis the recluse of the rat-hole. "'What?' demanded Ma'yette. "'That poor woman to whom we are carrying this cake?' Udard nodded affirmatively. "'Precisely. You will see her presently at her window on the greve. She has the same opinion as yourself of these vagabonds of Egypt,

Starting point is 08:51:31 who play the tambourine and tell fortunes to the public. No one knows whence comes her horror of the gypsies and Egyptians. But you, Ma'et, why do you run so at the mere sight? sight of them. Oh, said Mahiet, seizing her child's round head in both hands, I don't want that to happen to me, which happened to Paquette la Chant-Flourie. Oh, you must tell us that story, my good Mahiet, said Jervais, taking her arm. Gladly, replied Mahiet, but you must be ignorant of all but your Paris not to know that. I will tell you then, but tis not necessary for us to halt that I may tell you the tale, that Paquette la Chant-Flourie was a pretty

Starting point is 08:52:16 maid of eighteen when I was one myself, that is to say, eighteen years ago, and tis her own fault, if she is not today, like me, a good, plump, fresh mother of six and thirty, with a husband and a son. However, after the age of fourteen, it is too late. Well, she was the daughter of Giebertont, minstrel of the barges at Rhymes, the same name who had played before King Charles the Seventh at his coronation, when he descended our River Veslaix from Cilerie to Mouisson, when Madame the maid of Orleans was also in the boat. The old father died when Paquette was still a mere child. She had then no one but her mother, the sister of Monsieur Pradon, Master Brazier and Coppersmith in Paris, Rue Farm Garland,

Starting point is 08:53:06 who died last year. You see, she was of good family. The mother was a good simple woman, unfortunately, and she taught Paquette nothing but a bit of embroidery and toy-making, which did not prevent the little one from growing very large and remaining very poor. They both dwelt at Rhymes, on the river-front, Rue de Follet Pain. Mark this, for I believe it was this which brought misfortune to Paquette. In 61, the year of the coronation of our King Louis X.1, whom God preserve, Pacquette was so gay and so pretty that she was called everywhere by no other name than La Chant-Flourie, blossoming song.

Starting point is 08:53:50 Poor girl! She had handsome teeth, was fond of laughing and displaying them. Now a maid who loves to laugh is on the road to weeping. Handsome teeth ruin handsome eyes. So she was La Chant-Floree. She and her mother earned a precarious living. They had been very destitute since the death of her. of the minstrel. Their embroidery did not bring them in more than six farthings a week,

Starting point is 08:54:17 which does not amount to quite two eagle-liards. Where were the days when Father Guy Bartant had earned twelve sous Parisian in a single coronation with a song? One winter, it was in the same year of sixty-one, when the two women had neither fagots nor firewood, it was very cold, which gave La Chant-Flourie such a fine color that the men called her Paquette. and many called her peccaret, and she was ruined. You stash, just let me see you bite that cake if you dare. We immediately perceived that she was ruined one Sunday when she came to church with a gold cross about her neck, at fourteen years of age, do you see?

Starting point is 08:55:02 First, it was the young vicomte de Cormentui, who has his bell-tower three leagues distant from rhymes. Then, Monsieur Henri de Triancourt, Equery to the King. Then, less than that, Shi'at de Bollion, sergeant at arms. Then, still descending, Gueri Auburgeon, Carver to the King.

Starting point is 08:55:24 Then Marse de Frepeau, barber to Monsieur the Dolphine. Then Tévenin Le Moy, King's cook. Then the men growing continually younger and less noble, she fell to Gaiom Racine, minstrel of the hurdy-gurdy, and to Thierry de Mere lamplighter. Then poor Chant-Fourie, she belonged to everyone. She had reached the last sou of her gold-piece.

Starting point is 08:55:51 What shall I say to you, my damoiselles? At the coronation in the same year, 61, twas she who made the bed of the king of the de Bebosges in the same year. Mahayette sighed and wiped away a tear which trickled from her eyes. "'This is no very extraordinary history,' said Jervais, "'and in the whole of it I see nothing of any Egyptian women nor children.' "'Patience,' resumed Mahiet, "'you will see one child. "'In sixty-six, twill be sixteen years ago this month, that's St. Paul's Day,

Starting point is 08:56:28 "'Packet was brought to bed of a little girl. "'The unhappy creature! It was a great joy to her. "'She had long wished for a child. Her mother, good woman, who had never known what to do except to shut her eyes, her mother was dead. Piquette had no longer anyone to love in the world, or anyone to love her. La Chant-Flourie had been a poor creature during the five years since her fall. She was alone, alone in this life.

Starting point is 08:57:00 Fingers were pointed at her. She was hooted at in the streets, beaten by the sergeants, jeered at by the little boys and rags. And then twenty had arrived, and twenty is an old age for amorous women. Folly began to bring her in no more than her trade of embroidery in former days. For every wrinkle that came, a crown fled. Winter became hard to her once more. Wood became rare again in her brazier and bread in her cupboard. She could no longer work, because in becoming voluptuous she had grown lazy, and she suffered much more, because in growing lazy she had become voluptuous. At least that is the way in which Monsieur the Curé of Saint-Rémy explains why these women are

Starting point is 08:57:52 colder and hungrier than other poor women when they are old. Yes, remarked Jervais, but the gypsies? One moment Javés, said Udard, whose attention was less impatient. What would be left for the end if all were in the beginning? Continue, Mahiet, I entreat you. That poor Chad-Fourri—Mahiet went on. So she was very sad, very miserable, and furrowed her cheeks with tears. But in the midst of her shame, her folly, her debauchery,

Starting point is 08:58:29 it seemed to her that she should be less wild, less shameful, less dissipated, if there were something or someone in her. in the world whom she could love, and who could love her. It was necessary that it should be a child, because only a child could be sufficiently innocent for that. She had recognized this fact after having tried to love a thief, the only man who wanted her. But after a short time she perceived that the thief despised her. Those women of love require either a lover or a child to fill their hearts. Otherwise they are very unhappy.

Starting point is 08:59:08 As she could not have a lover, she turned holy towards a desire for a child, and as she had not ceased to be pious, she made her constant prayer to the good God for it. So the good God took pity on her and gave her a little daughter. I will not speak to you of her joy. It was a fury of tears and caresses and kisses.

Starting point is 08:59:33 She nursed her child herself, made swaddling bands for it out of her coverlet, and only one which she had on her bed, and no longer felt either cold or hunger. She became beautiful once more, in consequence of it. An old maid makes a young mother. Gallantry claimed her once more. Men came to see La Chant-Flourie. She found customers again for her merchandise, ice, and out of all these horrors she made baby clothes, caps and bibs, bodices with shoulder

Starting point is 09:00:07 straps of lace, and tiny bonnets of satin, without even thinking of buying herself another coverlet. Master Eustache, I have already told you not to eat that cake. It was certain that little Agnes, that was the child's name, a baptismal name, for it was a long time since La Chant-Flourie had had any surname. name. It is certain that that little one was more swathed in ribbons and embroideries than a dauphiness of dauphony. Among other things, she had a pair of little shoes, the like of which King Louis X. Louis X. X. Her mother had stitched and embroidered them herself. She had lavished on them all the delicacies of her art of embroideress, and all the

Starting point is 09:00:54 embellishments of a robe for the good virgin. They certainly were the the two prettiest little pink shoes that could be seen. They were no longer than my thumb, and one had to see the child's little feet come out of them in order to believe that they had been able to get into them. Tis true that those little feet were so small, so pretty, so rosy, rosier than the satin of the shoes. When you have children, Udard, you will find that there is nothing prettier than those little hands and feet. I ask no better, said Udard with a sigh, but I am waiting until it shall suit the pleasure of Monsieur André Mouiné.

Starting point is 09:01:38 However, Paquette's child had more that was pretty about it besides its feet. I saw her when she was only four months old. She was a love. She had eyes larger than her mouth, and the most charming black hair, which already curled. She would have been a magnificent brunette. at the age of sixteen. Her mother became more crazy over her every day. She kissed her, caressed her, tickled her, washed her, decked her out, devoured her. She lost her head over her. She thanked God for her. Her pretty little rosy feet above all were an endless source

Starting point is 09:02:17 of wonderment. They were a delirium of joy. She was always pressing her lips to them, and she could never recover from her amazement at their smallness. She put them into the tiny shoes, took them out, admired them, marvelled at them, looked at the light through them, was curious to see them try to walk on her bed, and would gladly have passed her life on her knees, putting on and taking off the shoes from those feet, as though they had been those of an infant Jesus. "'The tale is fair and good,' said Gervais in a low tone. But where do gypsies come into all that?

Starting point is 09:02:59 Here, replied Mahayette. One day there arrived in rhymes a very queer sort of people. They were beggars and vagabonds who were roaming over the country, led by their duke and their counts. They were browned by exposure to the sun. They had closely curling hair and silver rings in their ears. The women were still uglier than the men. They had blacker faces, which were always uncovered, a miserable frock on their bodies,

Starting point is 09:03:30 an old cloth woven of cords bound upon their shoulder, and their hair hanging like the tail of a horse. The children who scrambled between their legs would have frightened as many monkeys. A band of excommunicates. All these persons came direct from Lower Egypt to rhymes through Poland. The Pope had confessed them, it was said, and had prescribed. them as penance to roam through the world for seven years without sleeping in a bed. And so they were called peninsers, and smelt horribly.

Starting point is 09:04:04 It appears that they had formerly been Saracens, which was why they believed in Jupiter, and claimed ten livres of tournay from all archbishops, bishops, and mitered abbots with crozier. A bull from the Pope empowered them to do that. They came to rhymes to tell fortunes in the name of the King of Algiers and the Emperor of Germany. You can readily imagine that no more was needed to cause the entrance to the town to be forbidden to them. Then the whole band camped with good grace outside the gate of Brain, on that hill where stands a mill beside the cavities of the ancient chalk pits. And everybody in rhymes vied with his neighbor in going to see them.

Starting point is 09:04:47 They looked at your hand and told you marvelous prophecies. They were equal to predicting to Judas that he would become Pope. Nevertheless, ugly rumors were in circulation in regard to them, about children stolen, purses cut, and human flesh devoured. The wise people said to the foolish, Don't go there, and then went themselves on the sly. It was an infatuation. The fact is that they said things fit to astonish a cardinal.

Starting point is 09:05:22 Mothers triumphed greatly over their little ones after the Egyptians had read in their hands all sorts of marvels written in pagan and in Turkish. One had an emperor, another a pope, another a captain. Poor Chantafluree was seized with curiosity. She wished to know about herself and whether her pretty little Agnes would not become someday Empress of Armenia or something else.

Starting point is 09:05:48 So she carried her to the Egyptians, and the Egyptian women fell to admiring the child, and to caressing it, and to kissing it with their black mouths, and to marveling over its little band, alas, to the great joy of the mother. They were especially enthusiastic over her pretty feet and shoes. The child was not yet a year old. She already lisped a little,

Starting point is 09:06:13 laughed at her mother like a little mad thing, was plump and quite round, and possessed a thousand charming little gestures of the angels of paradise. She was very much frightened by the Egyptians and wept, but her mother kissed her more warmly and went away enchanted with the good fortune which the soothsayers had foretold for her Agnes. She was to be a beauty, virtuous, a queen. So she returned to her attic in the Rue Fulpane, very proud of bearing with her a queen. The next day she took advantage of a moment when the child was asleep on her bed, for they always slept together, gently left the door a little way open, and ran to tell a neighbor in the Rue de la Sachery that the day would come when her daughter Agnes

Starting point is 09:07:01 would be served at a table by the King of England and by the Archduke of Ethiopia, and a hundred other marvels. On her return, hearing no cries on the staircase, she said to herself. Good. The child is still asleep. She found her door wider open than she had left it, but she entered, poor mother, and ran to the bed. The child was no longer there. The place was empty. Nothing remained of the child, but one of her pretty little shoes. She flew out of the room, dashed down the stairs, and began to beat her head against the wall, crying, my child, who has my child, who has taken my child? The street was deserted, the house isolated.

Starting point is 09:07:47 No one could tell her anything about it. She went about the town, searched all the streets, ran hither and thither the whole day long, wild, beside herself, terrible, snuffing at doors and windows like a wild beast which has lost its young. She was breathless, disheveled, frightful to see, and there was a fire in her eyes which dried her tears. She stopped the passers-by and cried, My daughter, my daughter, my pretty little daughter! If anyone will give me back, my daughter, I will be his servant, the servant of his dog.

Starting point is 09:08:25 He shall eat my heart if he will. She met Monsieur la Curé of Saint-Rémy and said to him, "'Monsure, I will till the earth with my fingernails, but give me back my child!' It was heart-rending, Udard, and I saw a very hard man, Master Ponce la Cabra, the procurator, weep. Ah, poor mother! In the evening she returned home. During her absence, a neighbor had seen two gypsies ascend up to it with a bundle in their arms, then descend again after closing the door. After their departure, something like the cries of a child were heard in Piquet's room.

Starting point is 09:09:08 The mother burst into shrieks of laughter, ascended the stairs as though on wings, and entered. A frightful thing to tell, O'Dard, instead of her pretty little Agnes, so rosy and so fresh, who was a gift of the good God, a sort of hideous little monster, lame, one-eyed, deformed, was crawling and squalling over the floor. She hid her eyes in horror. Oh, said she, have the witches transformed my daughter into this horrible animal? They hastened to carry away the little clubfoot. He would have driven her mad. It was the monstrous child of some gypsy woman who had given herself to the devil. He appeared to be about four years old, and talked a language which was no human tongue.

Starting point is 09:09:58 There were words in it which were impossible. La Chant-Fourri flung herself upon the little shoe all that remained to her of all that she loved. She remained so long motionless over it, mute, and without breath, that they thought she was dead. Suddenly she trembled all over, covered her relic with furious kisses,

Starting point is 09:10:21 and burst out sobbing as though her heart. heart were broken. I assure you that we were all weeping also. She said, Oh, my little daughter, my pretty little daughter, where art thou? And it wrung your very heart. I weep still when I think of it. Our children are the marrow of our bones, you see. My poor Eustache, though art so fair, if you only knew how nice he is, yesterday he said to me, I want to be a gendarme that I do. Oh, my eustache, if I were to lose thee! All at once, La Chant Fleury rose, and set out to run through Rhymes, screaming,

Starting point is 09:11:07 To the gypsies camp, to the gypsies camp! Police to burn the witches! The gypsies were gone. It was pitch dark. They could not be followed. On the morrow, two leagues from Rhymes, on a heath between Gio and Tilly, the remains of a large fire were found, some ribbons which had belonged to Paquette's child, drops of blood, and the dung of a ram. The night just passed had been a Saturday. There was no longer any doubt that the Egyptians had held their Sabbath on that heath, and that they had devoured the child in company with Beelzebub, as the practice is among the Mohammedans. When La Chant Fleury learned these horrible things, she did not weep. She moved her lips, she moved her

Starting point is 09:11:55 lips as though to speak, but could not. On the morrow her hair was gray. On the second day she had disappeared. "'Tis in truth, a frightful tale,' said Udard, and one which would make even a Burgundian weep. "'I am no longer surprised,' added Jervais, that fear of the gypsies should spur you on so sharply. "'And you did all the better,' resumed Udard, to flee with with your Eustache just now, since these also are gypsies from Poland." "'No,' said Jervais. "'Tis said that they come from Spain and Catalonia.' "'Catalonia?

Starting point is 09:12:38 "'Tis possible,' replied Udard. "'Polon, Catalone, Valon, I always confound those three provinces. "'One thing is certain that they are gypsies.' "'Who certainly,' added Jervais, have teeth long enough to eat little children. I should not be surprised if La Smeralda ate a little of them also, though she pretends to be dainty. Her white goat knows tricks that are too malicious for there not to be some impiety underneath it all. Maillette walked on in silence. She was absorbed in that reverie which is in some sort the continuation of a mournful tale, and which ends only after having

Starting point is 09:13:24 communicated the emotion from vibration to vibration, even to the very last fibers of the heart. Nevertheless, Gervais addressed her. And did they ever learn what became of Lachat-Flourri? Maillette made no reply. Gervais repeated her question, and shook her arm, calling her by name. Maillette appeared to awaken from her thoughts. What became of Lachat-Fluri? she asked. repeating mechanically the words whose impression was still fresh in her ear, then making an effort to recall her attention to the meaning of her words. "'Ah!' she continued briskly,

Starting point is 09:14:06 "'No one ever found out.' She added, after a pause, "'Some said that she had been seen to quit rhymes at nightfall by the Fleshambeau gate, others at daybreak by the old Basset gate. A poor man found her gold cross hanging at the stone cross in the field where the fair is held. It was that ornament which had wrought her ruin in 61. It was a gift from the handsome Vycomte to Cormontui, her first lover. Paquette had never been willing to part with it, wretched as she had been.

Starting point is 09:14:42 She had clung to it as to life itself. So when we saw that cross abandoned, we all thought that she was dead. Nevertheless, there were people of the Cabaret Levanté who said that they had seen her pass along the road to Paris, walking on the pebbles with her bare feet. But in that case, she must have gone out through the Porte la Valais, and all this does not agree. Or, to speak more truly, I believe that she actually did depart by the Porte de Valet, but departed from this world. "'I do not understand you,' said Gervais.

Starting point is 09:15:20 "'La veil,' replied Mahiet, with a melancholy smile, "'is the river.' "'Poor Chantflourri,' said Udard with a shiver. "'Drawn!' resumed Mahiet, "'who could have told good father Gibortant "'when he passed under the bridge of Tigno, "'with the current, singing in his barge, "'that one day his dear little Paquette

Starting point is 09:15:47 "'would also pass beneath that bridge, but without song or boat. "'And the little shoe?' asked Jervais. "'Disappeared with the mother,' replied Mahiet. "'Poor little shoe,' said Udard. Udard, a big and tender woman, would have been well pleased to sigh in company with Mayette. But Jervais, more curious, had not finished her questions. "'And the monster?' she said suddenly to Maillette.

Starting point is 09:16:19 "'What monster?' inquired the latter. The little gypsy monster left by the sorceresses in Chant-Fourri's chamber, in exchange for her daughter. What did you do with it? I hope you drowned it also. No, replied Maillette. What?

Starting point is 09:16:36 You burned it then. In sooth, that is more just. A witch-child! Neither the one nor the other Jervais. Monseigneur the Archbishop interested himself in the child of his child of Egypt, exercised it, blessed it, removed the devil carefully from its body, and sent it to Paris, to be exposed on the wooden bed at Notre Dame as a foundling. Those bishops, grumbled Jervais. Because they are learned, they do nothing like anybody else.

Starting point is 09:17:09 I just put it to you, Udard, the idea of placing the devil among the foundlings. For that little monster was assured thee the devil. Well, Maillette, what did they do with it in Paris? I am quite sure that no charitable person wanted it. I do not know, replied the Remois. To us just at that time that my husband bought the office of notary at Bern, two leagues from the town, and we were no longer occupied with that story. Besides, in front of Bern stand the two hills of Cernet,

Starting point is 09:17:45 which hide the towers of the cathedral in rhymes. from view. While chatting thus, the three worthy bourgeoisie had arrived at the Place de Greve. In their absorption they had passed the public breviary of the Tour Roland without stopping, and took their way mechanically towards the pillory around which the throng was growing more dense with every moment. It was probable that the spectacle which at that moment attracted all looks in that direction would have made them forget completely the rattle. hole, and the halt which they intended to make there, if big Eustache, six years of age,

Starting point is 09:18:24 whom Mayette was dragging along by the hand, had not abruptly recalled the object to them. "'Mother,' he said, as though some instinct warned him that the rat-hole was behind them, "'can I eat the cake now?' If Eustache had been more adroit, that is to say, less greedy, he would have continued to wait, and would only have hazarded that simple question, Mother, can I eat the cake now, on their return to the university, to Master André Munez, Rue Madame la Valence, when he had the two arms of the same and the five bridges of the city between the rat-hole and the cake. This question, highly imprudent

Starting point is 09:19:07 at the moment when Eustache put it, aroused Maillette's attention. "'By the way,' she exclaimed, "'we are forgetting the recluse. Show me the rat-hole.' that I may carry her her cake. Immediately, said Udard, tis a charity. But this did not suit Eustache. Stop! My cake! said he, rubbing both ears alternatively with his shoulders, which, in such cases, is the supreme sign of discontent. The three women retraced their steps, and, on arriving in the vicinity of the Tour

Starting point is 09:19:44 Roland, Udard said to the other two, We must not all three gaze into the hole at once, for fear of alarming the recluse. Do you two pretend to read the dominus in the breviary, while I thrust my nose into the aperture? The recluse knows me a little. I will give you warning when you can approach. She proceeded alone to the window. At the moment when she looked in, a profound pity was depicted on all her features,

Starting point is 09:20:14 and her frank, gay visage altered its expression and color as abruptly as though it had passed from a ray of sunlight to a ray of moonlight. Her eye became humid, her mouth contracted, like that of a person on the point of weeping. A moment later she laid her finger on her lips and made a sign to Mahiet to draw near and look. Mahiet, much touched, stepped up in silence on tiptoe, as though approaching the bedside of a dying person. It was, in fact, a melancholy spectacle which presented itself to the eyes of the two women as they gazed through the grating of the rat-hole, neither stirring nor breathing. The cell was small, broader than it was long, with an arched ceiling and viewed from within,

Starting point is 09:21:05 it bore a considerable resemblance to the interior of a huge bishop's mitre. On the bare flagstones which formed the floor, in one corner a woman was sitting, or rather crouching. Her chin rested on her knees, which her crossed arms pressed forcibly to her breast. Thus doubled up, clad in a brown sack which enveloped her entirely in large folds, her long gray hair pulled over in front, falling over her face and along her legs nearly to her feet. She presented, at the first glance, only a strange form outlined against the dark background of the cell, a sort of dusky triangle, which the ray of daylight falling through the opening

Starting point is 09:21:50 cut roughly into two shades, the one somber, the other illuminated. It was one of those spectres, half-light, half-shadow, such as one beholds in dreams and in the extraordinary work of Goya, pale, motionless, sinister. crouching over a tomb or leaning against the grating of a prison cell. It was neither a woman nor a man, nor a living being, nor a definite form. It was a figure, a sort of vision, in which the real and the fantastic intersected each other, like darkness and day. It was with difficulty that one distinguished, beneath her hair which spread to the ground, a gaunt and severe profile. Her dress barely allowed the extremity of a bare foot to escape, which contracted on the hard, cold pavement.

Starting point is 09:22:44 The little of human form, of which one caught a sight beneath this envelope of mourning, caused a shudder. That figure, which one might have supposed to be riveted to the flagstones, appeared to possess neither movement, nor thought, nor breath. Lying, in January, in that thin linen sack, lying on a granite floor without, fire, in the gloom of a cell whose oblique air-hole allowed only the cold breeze, but never the sun, to enter from without. She did not appear to suffer, or even to think. One would have said that she had turned to stone with the cell, ice with the season. Her hands were clasped, her eyes fixed. At first sight one took her for a specter, at the second for a statue. Never

Starting point is 09:23:37 Nevertheless, at intervals her blue lips half open to admit a breath and trembled, but as dead and as mechanical as the leaves which the wind sweeps aside. Nevertheless, from her dull eyes there escaped a look, an ineffable look, a profound, lugubrious, imperturbable look, incessantly fixed upon a corner of the cell which could not be seen from without, a gaze which seemed to fix all the somber thoughts. thoughts of that soul in distress upon some mysterious object. Such was the creature who had received, from her habitation, the name of the recluse, and from her garment the name of the sacked nun.

Starting point is 09:24:26 The three women, for Gervais, had rejoined Mahiet and Udard, gazed through the window. Their heads intercepted the feeble light in the cell, without the wretched being whom they thus deprived of it, seeming to pay any attention to them. "'Do not let us trouble her,' said Udard in a low voice. "'She is in her ecstasy. She is praying.' Meanwhile, Ma'Yette was gazing with ever-increasing anxiety at that wan withered, disheveled head, and her eyes filled with tears. "'This is very singular,' she murmured.

Starting point is 09:25:05 She thrust her head through the bars, and succeeded in casting a glance at the corner where the gaze of the unhappy woman was immovably riveted. When she withdrew her head from the window, her countenance was inundated with tears. "'What do you call that woman?' she asked Udard. Udard replied. "'We call her Sister Gudulei.' "'And I,' returned Mahiet, Call her Paquette la Chant-Flourie.

Starting point is 09:25:37 Then, laying her finger on her lips, she motioned to the astounded Udard to thrust her head through the window and look. Udard looked and beheld, in the corner where the eyes of the recluse were fixed in that somber ecstasy, a tiny shoe of pink satin, embroidered with a thousand fanciful designs in gold and silver. Jervais looked after Udard, and then the three of the three years. Three women, gazing upon the unhappy mother, began to weep. But neither their looks nor their tears disturbed the recluse.

Starting point is 09:26:11 Her hands remained clasped, her lips mute, her eyes fixed, and that little shoe, thus gazed at, broke the heart of anyone who knew her history. The three women had not yet uttered a single word. They dared not speak, even in a low voice. This deep silence, this deep grief, this profound oblivion in which everything had disappeared except one thing, produced upon them the effect of the grand altar at Christmas or Easter. They remained silent, they meditated, they were ready to kneel. It seemed to them that they were ready to enter a church on the day of Tenebrae.

Starting point is 09:26:55 At length Gervais, the most curious of the three, and consequently the least sensitive, to make the recluse speak. Sister! Sister Goodolet! She repeated this call three times, raising her voice each time. The recluse did not move. Not a word, not a glance, not a sigh, not a sign of life. Udard, in her turn, in a sweeter, more caressing voice,

Starting point is 09:27:24 Sister, said she, Sister Saint-Gudelais! The same silence. the same immobility. A singular woman, exclaimed Jervais, and one not to be moved by a catapult. Perchance she is deaf, said Udard. Perhaps she is blind, added Jervais. Dead, perchance, returned Maillet.

Starting point is 09:27:51 It is certain that if the soul had not already quitted this inert, sluggish, lethargic body, It had at least retreated and concealed itself in depths, whither the perceptions of the exterior organs no longer penetrated. "'Then we must leave the cake on the window,' said Udard. Some scamp will take it. What shall we do to rouse her?' Eustache, who up to that moment had been diverted by a little carriage drawn by a large dog, which had just passed, suddenly perceived that his three conductors.

Starting point is 09:28:29 were gazing at something through the window, and curiosity taking possession of him in his turn, he climbed upon a stone post, elevated himself on tiptoe, and applied his fat, red face to the opening, shouting, "'Mother, let me see it too!' At the sound of this clear, fresh, ringing child's voice, the recluse trembled. She turned her head with a sharp, abrupt movement of a steel spring. Her long, flesh hands cast aside the hair from her brow, and she fixed upon the child, bitter, astonished, desperate eyes. This glance was but a lightning flash. "'Oh, my God!' she suddenly exclaimed, hiding her head on her knees, and it seemed as though

Starting point is 09:29:18 her hoarse voice tore her chest as it passed from it. "'Do not show me those of others!' "'Good day, madam,' said the child, green. Nevertheless, this shock had, so to speak, awakened the recluse. A long shiver traversed her frame from head to foot. Her teeth chattered. She half raised her head and said, pressing her elbows against her hips and clasping her feet in her hands as though to warm them.

Starting point is 09:29:48 Oh, how cold it is! Poor woman! said Udard, with great compassion. Would you like a little fire? She shook her head in a token of refusal. Well, resumed Udard, presenting her with a flagon. Here is some hippocress which will warm you, drink it. Again she shook her head, looked at Udard fixedly and replied, Water!

Starting point is 09:30:16 Udard persisted. No, sister, that is no beverage for January. You must drink a little hypocris and eat this leavened cake of maize which we have baked for you. She refused the cake which Mahi had offered to her and said, "'Black bread!' "'Come,' said Jervais, seized in her turn with an impulse of charity, and unfastening her woolen cloak. "'Here is a cloak which is a little warmer than yours.'

Starting point is 09:30:45 She refused the cloak as she had refused the flagon and the cake, and replied, "'A sack!' "'But,' resumed the good Udard, You must have perceived to some extent that yesterday was a festival. I do perceive it, said the recluse. Tis two days now since I have had any water in my crock. She added, after a silence, "'Tis a festival, I am forgotten.

Starting point is 09:31:15 People do well. Why should the world think of me when I do not think of it? Cold charcoal makes cold ashes. And, as though fatigued with having said so much, she dropped her head on her knees again. The simple and charitable Udard, who fancied that she understood from her last words that she was complaining of the cold, replied innocently, "'Then you would like a little fire?' "'Fire!' said the sacked nun with a strange accent.

Starting point is 09:31:50 "'And will you also make a little for the poor little one who has been beneath the sod for these fifteen years?" Every limb was trembling, her voice quivered, her eyes flashed, she had raised herself upon her knees. Suddenly she extended her thin white hand towards the child, who was regarding her with a look of astonishment. "'Take away that child!' she cried. "'The Egyptian woman is about to pass by!'

Starting point is 09:32:23 Then she fell face downward on the earth, and her forehead struck the stone, with the sound of one stone against another stone. The three women thought her dead. A moment later, however, she moved, and they beheld her drag herself on her knees and elbows, to the corner where the little shoe was. Then they dared not look. They no longer saw her. But they heard a thousand and kisses and a thousand sighs, mingled with heart-rending cries, and dull blows like those of a head in contact with a wall. Then, after one of these blows, so violent that all three of them staggered, they heard no more.

Starting point is 09:33:09 "'Can she have killed herself?' said Jervais, venturing to pass her head through the air-hole. "'Sister! Sister Goodelais!' "'Sister Good-de-Lay!' repeated Doudard. "'Ah, good heavens, she no longer moves,' resumed Gervais. "'Is she dead? Good delay, good-de-lay!'

Starting point is 09:33:29 Mahiet, choked to such a point that she could not speak, made an effort. "'Wait,' said she, then, bending towards the window. "'Packette!' she said. "'Packet la Chant-Flourie!' A child, who innocently blows upon the badly ignited fuse of a bomb, and makes it explode in his face, is no more terrified than was Maillette at the effect of that name, abruptly launched into the cell of Sister Goodelais. The recluse trembled all over, rose erect on her bare feet, and leaped at the window with eyes so glaring that Maillette and Udard and the other woman

Starting point is 09:34:10 and the child recoiled even to the parapet of the key. Meanwhile, the sinister face of the recluse appeared pressed to the grating of the air-hole. Oh, oh, she cried, with an appalling laugh. Tis the Egyptian who is calling me! At that moment, a scene which was passing at the pillory caught her wild eye. Her brow contracted with horror. She stretched her two skeleton arms from her cell, and shrieked in a voice which resembled a death-rattle.

Starting point is 09:34:43 So, tis thou once more, daughter of Egypt! "'Tis thou who callest me, stealer of children! Well, be thou a curse, a curse, a curse, accursed, accursed, accursed, a curse! End of Book 6, Chapter 3. Book 6, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 6, Chapter 4. A tear for a drop of water.

Starting point is 09:35:31 These words were, so to speak, the point of union of two scenes, which had up to that time been developed in parallel lines at the same moment, each on its particular theatre. One, that which the reader has just perused, in the rat-hole, the other, which he's about to read, on the ladder of the pillory. The first had for witnesses only the three women with whom the reader has just made acquaintance. The second had for spectators all the public which we have seen above, collecting on the Plastagreb, around the pillory and the jibbet. That crowd, which the four sergeants posted at nine o'clock in the morning at the four corners

Starting point is 09:36:14 of the pillory, had inspired with the hope of some sort of an execution, no doubt, not a hanging, but a whipping, a cropping of ears, something, in short, that crowd had increased so rapidly that the four policemen, too closely besieged, had had occasion to press it, as the expression then ran, more than once, by sound blows of their whips and the haunches of their horses. This populace, disciplined to waiting for public executions, did not manifest very much impatience. It amused itself with watching the pillory, a very simple sort of monument, composed of a cube of masonry about six feet high and hollow in the interior. A very steep staircase of unhewn stone, which was called by distinction the latter,

Starting point is 09:37:03 led to the upper platform upon which was visible a horizontal wheel of solid oak. The victim was bound upon this wheel on his knees, with his hands behind his back. A wooden shaft, which set in motion a capstan concealed in the interior of the little edifice, imparted a rotatory motion to the wheel, which always was, maintained its horizontal position, and in this manner presented the face of the condemned man to all quarters of the square in succession. This was what was called turning a criminal. As the reader perceives, the pillory of the greve was far from presenting all the recreations of the pillery of the hall. Nothing architectural, nothing monumental. No roof to the iron cross,

Starting point is 09:37:54 no octagonal lantern, no frail, slender columns, spreading out on the edge of the roof into capitals of acanthus leaves and flowers. No water-spouts of chimeras and monsters on carved woodwork, no fine sculpture, deeply sunk in the stone. They were forced to content themselves with those four stretches of rubble-work, backed with sandstone and a wretched stone gibbet meager and bear on one side. The entertainment would have been but a poor one for lovers of Gothic architecture. It is true that nothing was ever less curious on the score of architecture than the worthy gapers of the Middle Ages, and that they cared very little for the beauty of a pillory. The victim finally arrived, bound to the tail of a cart, and when he had been hoisted

Starting point is 09:38:47 upon the platform where he could be seen from all points of the place, bound with course cords and straps upon the wheel of the pillory, a prodigious hoot mingled with laughter and acclamations burst forth upon the place. They had recognized Quasimodo. It was he, in fact. The change was singular. Pillaried on the very place where in the day before he had been saluted, acclaimed, and proclaimed Pope and Prince of fools.

Starting point is 09:39:18 In the cortege of the Duke of Egypt, the King of Tunei, and the Emperor of Galilee. One thing is certain, and that is, there was not a soul in the crowd, not even himself, though in turn triumphant and the sufferer, who set forth this combination clearly in his thought. Gringua and his philosophy were missing at this spectacle. Soon Michel Noire, sworn trumpeter to the King Our Lord, imposed silence on the louts, and proclaimed the sentence, in accordance with the order and command of Monsieur the provost.

Starting point is 09:39:57 Then he withdrew behind the cart with his men in livery surcoats. Quasimodo, impassable, did not wince. All resistance had been rendered impossible to him by what was then called, in the style of the criminal chancelry, the vehemence and firmness of the bonds, which means that the thongs and chains probably cut into his flesh. Moreover, it is a tradition of jail and wardens which has not been lost, and which the handcuffs still preciously preserve among us a civilized, gentle, humane people, the galleys, and the guillotine in parentheses.

Starting point is 09:40:38 He had allowed himself to be led, pushed, carried, lifted, bound and bound again. Nothing was to be seen upon his countenance but the astonishment of a savage or an idiot. He was known to be deaf. One might have pronounced him to be blind. They placed him on his knees on the circular plank. He made no resistance. They removed his shirt and doublet as far as his girdle. He allowed them to have their way. They entangled him under a fresh system of thongs and buckles. He allowed them to bind and buckle him. Only from time to time he snorted noisily, like a calf whose head is hanging and bumping over the edge of a butcher's cart. "'The d'olt,' said Jahan Frollo of the mill, to his friend Roban Puspan, for the two students

Starting point is 09:41:31 had followed the culprit, as was to have been expected. He understands no more than a cockchafer shut up in a box. There was a wild laughter among the crowd when they beheld Quasimodo's hump, his camel's breast, his callous and hairy shoulders laid bare. During this gaiety, a man in the livery of the city, short of stature and robust of mean, mounted the platform and placed himself near the victim. His name speedily circulated among the spectators. It was Master Periat Torturer, official torturer to the Chattelet. He began by depositing on an angle of the pillory a black hourglass, the upper lobe of

Starting point is 09:42:18 which was filled with red sand, which it allowed to glide into the lower receptacle. Then he removed his party-colored surtout, and there became visible, suspended from his right hand, a thin and tapering whip of long, white, shining, knotted, plated thongs, armed with metal nails. With his left hand, he negligently folded back his shirt around his right arm to the very armpit. In the meantime, Jehan Frollo, elevating his curly blonde head above the crowd, he had mounted upon the shoulders of Robin-Puspan for the purpose, shouted, "'Come and look, gentle ladies and men, they are going to peremptorily flagellate Master Quasimodo, the bell-ringer of my brother, Monsieur the Archdeacon.

Starting point is 09:43:09 of José, a knave of oriental architecture, who has a back like a dome and legs like twisted columns. And the crowd burst into a laugh, especially the boys and young girls. At length the torturer stamped his foot. The wheel began to turn. Quasimodo wavered beneath his bonds. The amazement which was suddenly depicted upon his deformed face caused the bursts of laughter to redouble around him. All at once, at the moment when the wheel in its revolution presented to Master Peret the humped back of Quasimodo, Master Peret raised his arm. The fine thongs whistled sharply through the air, like a handful of adders, and fell with fury upon the wretch's shoulders. Quasimodo leaped as though awakened with a start. He began to understand, he writhed in his bonds,

Starting point is 09:44:06 A violent contraction of surprise and pain distorted the muscles of his face, but he uttered not a single sigh. He merely turned his head backward to the right, then to the left, balancing it as a bull does who has been stung in the flanks by a gadfly. A second blow followed the first, then a third and another and another, and still others. The wheel did not cease to turn, nor the blows to rain down. down. Soon the blood burst forth, and could be seen trickling in a thousand threads down the hunchback's black shoulders. And the slender thongs in their rotatory motion

Starting point is 09:44:50 which rent the air, sprinkle drops of it upon the crowd. Quasimodo had resumed, to all appearance, his first imperturbability. He had first tried, in a quiet way, and without much outward movement to break his bonds. His eye had been seen to light up, his muscles to stiffen, his members to concentrate their force, and the straps to stretch. The effort was powerful, prodigious, desperate. But the provost seasoned bonds resisted. They cracked, and that was all. Quasimodo fell back, exhausted. Amazement gave way on his features to a sentiment of profound and bitter discouragement. He closed his single eye, allowed his head to droop upon his breast, and feigned death. From that moment forth he stirred no more. Nothing could force a movement from him,

Starting point is 09:45:48 neither his blood which did not cease to flow, nor the blows which redoubled in fury, nor the wrath of the torturer, who grew excited himself and intoxicated with the execution, nor the sound of the horrible thongs, more sharp and whistling than the claws of scorpions. At length, a bailiff from the chattelais, clad in black, mounted on a black horse, who had been stationed beside the ladder since the beginning of the execution, extended his ebony wand towards the hourglass. The torturer stopped. The wheel stopped. Quasimodo's eye opened slowly. The scourging was finished. Two lackeys of the official torturer bathed the bleeding

Starting point is 09:46:35 shoulders of the patient, anointed them with some unguent which immediately closed all the wounds, and threw upon his back a sort of yellow vestment, in cut like a chascible. In the meanwhile, Peret Tortureru allowed the thongs, red and gorged with blood, to drip upon the pavement. All was not over for Quasimodo. He had still to undergo that hour of pillory which Master Florian Barbadian had so judiciously added to the sentence of Monsieur Robert d'estovie, all to the greater glory of the old physiological and psychological play upon the words of Jean de Cumané, Surdus Absurdus. A deaf man is absurd. So the hour-glass was turned over once more, and they left the hunchback fastened to

Starting point is 09:47:29 the plank, in order that justice might be accomplished to the very end. The populace, especially in the Middle Ages, is in society what the child is in the family. As long as it remains in its state of primitive ignorance, of moral and intellectual minority, it can be said of it as of the child. Tis the pitiless the pitiless age. We have already shown that Quasimodo was generally hated, for more than one good reason it is true. There was hardly a spectator in that crowd who had not, or did not believe, that he had

Starting point is 09:48:06 reason to complain of the malevolent hunchback of Notre Dame. The joy at seeing him appear thus in the pillory had been universal, and the harsh punishment which he had just suffered, and the pitiful condition in which it had left him, far from softening the populace had rendered its hatred more malicious by arming it with a touch of mirth. Hence, the public prosecution satisfied, as the bigwigs of the law still express it in their jargon, the turn came of a thousand private vengences. Here, as in the Grand Hall, the women rendered themselves particularly prominent. All cherished some rancor against him, some for his malice, others for his ugliness. The latter were the most furious.

Starting point is 09:48:57 "'Oh, mask of Antichrist!' said one. "'Wrider on a broom-handle!' cried another. "'What a fine, tragic grimace!' howled a third. And who would make him Pope of the fools if to-day were yesterday?' "'Tis well!' struck in an old woman. "'This is the grimace of the pillory! When shall we have that of the gibbet? When will you be quaffed with your big bell

Starting point is 09:49:26 A hundred feet underground, cursed bell-ringer? But tis the devil who rings the angelus. Oh, the deaf man, the one-eyed creature, the hunchback, the monster! A face to make a woman miscarry better than all the drugs and medicines. And the two scholars, Shahandumalan and Roban Pusselm, pan, sang at the top of their lungs, the ancient refrain, "'Une' out, poor le pendard, own faggot, poor le maggot!' A rope for the gallows bird, a faggot for the ape.

Starting point is 09:50:04 A thousand other insults rained down upon him, and hoots and imprecations and laughter, and now and then, stones. Quasimodo was deaf, but his sight was clear, and the public fury was no less energetically depicted on their than in their words. Moreover, the blows from the stones explained the bursts of laughter. At first he held his ground, but little by little that patience which had borne up under the lash of the torturer yielded and gave way before all these stings of insects.

Starting point is 09:50:41 The bull of the Asturias, who has been but little moved by the attacks of the Piccador, grows irritated with the dogs and bandareras. He first cast around a slow glance of hatred upon the crowd. But bound as he was, his glance was powerless to drive away those flies which were stinging his wound. Then he moved in his bonds, and his furious exertions made the ancient wheel of the pillory shriek on its axle. All this only increased the derision and hooting.

Starting point is 09:51:16 And the wretched man, unable to break his collar, like that of a chained wild beast, became tranquil once more. Only at intervals a sigh of rage heaved the hollows of his chest. There was neither shame nor redness on his face. He was too far from the state of society, and too near the state of nature to know what shame was. Moreover, with such a degree of deformity, is infamy a thing that can be felt? But wrath, hatred, despair, slowly lowered over that hideous visage, a cloud which grew ever

Starting point is 09:51:54 more and more sombre, ever more and more charged with electricity, which burst forth in a thousand lightning flashes from the eye of the Cyclops. Nevertheless, that cloud cleared away for a moment at the passage of a mule which traversed the crowd, bearing a priest. As far away as he could see that mule and that priest, the poor victim's visage grew gentler. The fury which had contracted it was followed by a strange smile full of ineffable sweetness, gentleness, and tenderness. In proportion as the priest approached, that smile became more clear, more distinct, more radiant.

Starting point is 09:52:37 It was like the arrival of a Savior, which the unhappy man was greeting. But as soon as the mule was near enough to the pillory to allow of its rider recognizing the victim, the priest dropped his eyes, beat a hasty retreat, spurred on rigorously, as though in haste to rid himself of humiliating appeals, and not at all desirous of being saluted and recognized by a poor fellow in such a predicament. The priest was Archdeacon Dom Claude Frollo. The cloud descended more blackly than the child. ever upon Quasimodo's brow. The smile was still mingled with it for a time, but was bitter,

Starting point is 09:53:18 discouraged, profoundly sad. Time passed on. He had been there at least an hour and a half, lacerated, maltreated, mocked incessantly, and almost stoned. All at once he moved again in his chains with redoubled despair, which made the whole framework that bore him tremble, and, breaking the silence which he had obstinately preserved hitherto, he cried in a hoarse and furious voice, which resembled a bark rather than a human cry, and which was drowned in the noise of the hoots, drink! This exclamation of distress, far from exciting compassion, only added amusement to the good Parisian populace who surrounded the latter, and who, it must be conceding.

Starting point is 09:54:10 confessed, taken in the mass and as a multitude, was then no less cruel and brutal than that horrible tribe of robbers among whom we have already conducted the reader, and which was simply the lower stratum of the populace. Not a voice was raised around the unhappy victim, except to jeer at his thirst. It is certain that at that moment he was more grotesque and repulsive than pitiable, with his face purple and dripping, his eye wild, his mouth foaming with rage and pain, and his tongue lolling half out. It must also be stated that if a charitable soul of bourgeois or bourgeoisie in the rabble

Starting point is 09:54:54 had attempted to carry a glass of water to that wretched creature in torment, there reigned around the infamous steps of the pillory such a prejudice of shame and ignominy that it would have sufficed to repulse the good Samaritan. At the expiration of a few moments, Quasimodo cast a desperate glance upon the crowd and repeated in a voice, still more heart-rending, and all began to laugh. "'Drink this!' cried Roban Pouspan, throwing in his face a sponge which had been soaked in the gutter. "'There, you deaf villain!

Starting point is 09:55:33 I'm your debtor!' A woman hurled a stone at his head. "'That will teach you to you. to wake us at night with your peal of a damned soul." "'Eh good, my son!' howled a cripple, making an effort to reach him with his crutch. "'Will you cast any more spells on us from the top of the towers of Notre Dame?' "'Here's a drinking cup,' chimed in a man, flinging a broken jug at his breast. "'Twas you that made my wife, simply because she passed near you, give birth to a child with

Starting point is 09:56:10 two heads. And my cat bring forth a kitten with six paws, yelped an old crone, launching a brick at him. Drink! repeated Quasimodo panting for the third time.

Starting point is 09:56:26 At that moment he beheld the crowd give way. A young girl, fantastically dressed, emerged from the throng. She was accompanied by a little white goat with gilded horns and carried a tambourine in her. her hand. Quasimodo's eyes sparkled. It was the gypsy whom he had attempted to carry off on the preceding night, a misdeed for which he was dimly conscious that he was being punished at

Starting point is 09:56:52 that very moment, which was not in the least the case, since he was being chastised only for the misfortune of being deaf and of having been judged by a deaf man. He doubted not that she had come to wreak her vengeance also, and to deal her blow like the rest. He beheld her, in fact, mount the ladder rapidly. Wrath and spite suffocated him. He would have liked to make the pillory crumble into ruins, and if the lightning of his eye could have dealt death, the gypsy would have been reduced to powder before she reached the platform. She approached, without uttering a syllable, the victim who writhed in a vain effort to escape her, and detaching a gourd from her girdle, she raised it gently to the parched lips of the miserable man.

Starting point is 09:57:44 Then, from that eye which had been up to that moment so dry and burning, a big tear was seen to fall, and roll slowly down that deformed visage, so long contracted with despair. It was the first, in all probability, that the unfortunate man, had ever shed. Meanwhile he had forgotten to drink. The gypsy made her little pout from impatience, and pressed the spout to the tussed mouth of Quasimodo with a smile. He drank with deep draughts.

Starting point is 09:58:19 His thirst was burning. When he had finished, the wretch protruded his black lips, no doubt, with the object of kissing the beautiful hand which had just succored him. But the young girl, who was perhaps somewhat distrustful and who remembered the violent attempt of the night, withdrew her hand with the frightened gesture of a child who was afraid of being bitten by a beast. Then the poor deaf man fixed on her a look of full reproach and inexpressible sadness. It would have been a touching spectacle anywhere, this beautiful, fresh, pure and charming girl,

Starting point is 09:58:58 was at the same time so weak, thus hastening to the relief of so much misery, deformity, and malevolence. On the pillory the spectacle was sublime. The very populace were captivated by it and began to clap their hands, crying, "'Noelle! Noel!' It was at that moment that the recluse caught sight from the window of her bowl of the gypsy on the pillory and hurled at her her sinister imprecate.

Starting point is 09:59:28 Acursed be thou, daughter of Egypt! Accursed! A cursed! A cursed! End of Book 6, Chapter 4. Book 6 Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 6, Chapter 5. End of the Story of the Cake. La Esmeralda turned pale and descended from the pillory, staggering as she went. the voice of the recluse still pursued her.

Starting point is 10:00:10 "'Descend! Descend! Thief of Egypt! Thou shalt ascend it once more!' The sacked nun is in one of her tantrums, muttered the populace, and that was the end of it. For that sort of woman was feared, which rendered them sacred. People did not then willingly attack one who prayed day and night. The hour had arrived for removing Quasimodo. He was unbound, the crowd dispersed. Near the grand pont, Mahiet, who was returning with her two companions, suddenly halted. By the way, Eustache, what did you do with that cake? Mother, said the child, while you were talking with that lady in the bowl, a big dog took a bite of my cake, and then I bid it also. What, sir, did you eat the whole of it? She went on.

Starting point is 10:01:06 "'Mother, it was the dog. I told him, but he would not listen to me. Then I bit into it also.' "'Tis a terrible child,' said the mother, smiling and scolding at one and the same time. "'Do you see, Udard? He already eats all the fruit from the cherry tree in our orchard of Charlerange. So his grandfather says, that will be a captain. Just let me catch you at it again. Master Eustache. Come along, you greedy fellow. End of Book 6, Chapter 5. Book 7, Chapter 1

Starting point is 10:01:50 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 7, Chapter 1. The danger of confiding one secret to a goat. Many weeks had elapsed.

Starting point is 10:02:07 The 1st of March had arrived. The sun, which Dubarte, that classic ancestor of paraphrase, had not yet dubbed the Grand Duke of Candles, was nonetheless radiant and joyous on that account. It was one of those spring days which possesses so much sweetness and beauty that all Paris turns out into the squares and promenades

Starting point is 10:02:31 and celebrates them as though they were Sundays. In those days of brilliancy, warmth, and serenity, there is a certain hour above all others, when the facade of Notre Dame should be admired. It is the moment when the sun, already declining towards the west, looks the cathedral almost full in the face. Its rays, growing more and more horizontal, withdraw slowly from the pavement of the square

Starting point is 10:02:58 and mount up the perpendicular façade, whose thousand bosses in high relief they cause to start out from the shadows, while the great central rose window flames like the eye, of a cyclops, inflamed with the reflections of the forge. This was the hour. Opposite the lofty cathedral, reddened by the setting sun, on the stone balcony built above the porch of a rich Gothic house, which formed the angle of the square and the rue de parvy, several young girls were laughing and chatting with every sort of grace and mirth. From the length of the veil which fell from their pointed quaff, twined with pearls, to their heath,

Starting point is 10:03:40 heels, from the fineness of the embroidered chemisette which covered their shoulders, and allowed a glimpse, according to the pleasing custom of the time, of the swell of their fair virgin bosoms, from the opulence of their under-petticoats, still more precious than their overdress, marvellous refinement, from the gauze, the silk, the velvet, with which all this was composed, and above all from the whiteness of their hands, which certified to their leisure and idleness. It was easy to divine they were noble and wealthy heiresses. They were, in fact, Damoiselle Fleur de L'Gondolier, and her companions, Diane de Christui, Amelot de Mont-Michel, Colom de Guy Fontaine, and the little de Chappsavrier

Starting point is 10:04:31 maiden. All damsels of good birth, assembled at that moment at the house of the dame widow de gondolari, on account of Monseigneur de Beauceau and Madame his wife, who were come to Paris in the month of April, there to choose maids of honor for the Dolphinez Marguerite, who was to be received in Picardy from the hands of the Fleming's. Now all the squires for twenty leagues around were intriguing for this favor for their daughters, and a goodly number of the latter had been already brought or sent to Paris. These four maidens had been confided to the the discreet and venerable charge of Madame Alois de Gandollarié, widow of a former commander of the King's crossbowman,

Starting point is 10:05:16 who had retired with her only daughter to her house in the Place du Parveille, Notre Dame, in Paris. The balcony on which these young girls stood, opened from a chamber richly tapestried in fawn-coloured Flanders' leather, stamped with golden foliage. The beams, which cut the ceiling in parallel lines, diverted the eye with a thousand eccentric painted and gilded carvings. Splendid enameles gleamed here and there on carved chests.

Starting point is 10:05:46 A boar's head in Faisance crowned a magnificent dresser, whose two shelves announced that the mistress of the house was the wife or widow of a knight Vaneret. At the end of the room, by the side of a lofty chimney, blazoned with arms from top to bottom, in a rich red velvet armchair, sat Dame de Gondolourier, whose five and fifty years were written upon her garments no less distinctly than upon her face.

Starting point is 10:06:15 Beside her stood a young man of imposing mean, although partaking somewhat of vanity and bravado. One of those handsome fellows whom all women agreed to admire, although grave men learned in physiognomy shrugged their shoulders at them. This young man wore the garb of a captain of the king's unattached archers, which bears far too much resemblance to the costume of Jupiter, which the reader has already been enabled to admire in the first book of this history, for us to inflict upon him a second description. The damoiselles were seated, apart in the chamber, apart in the balcony, some on square cushions of utrecht velvet with golden corners, others on stools of oak, carved in

Starting point is 10:07:03 flowers and figures. Each of them held on her knee a section of a great needlework tapestry, on which they were working in company, while one end of it lay upon the rush mat which covered the floor. They were chatting together in that whispering tone with a half-stifled laughs, peculiar to an assembly of young girls in whose midst there is a young man. The young man, whose presence served to set in play all those feminine self-conceits, appeared to pay very little he to the matter, and, while these pretty damsels were vying with one another to attract his attention, he seemed to be chiefly absorbed in polishing the buckle of his sword-belt

Starting point is 10:07:44 with his do-skin glove. From time to time, the old lady addressed him in a very low tone, and he replied as well as he was able, with a sort of awkward and constrained politeness. From the smiles and significant gestures of Dame Alouin, from the glances which she threw towards her daughter, Flour de Lee, as she spoke low to the captain, it was easy to see that there was here a question of some betrothal concluded, some marriage near at hand, no doubt, between the young man and Fleur de Lee. From the embarrassed coldness of the officer, it was easy to see that on his side, at least, love had no longer any part in the matter. His whole air was expressive of constraint and weariness, which our lieutenants of the garrison would today translate admirably

Starting point is 10:08:37 as, what a beastly bore! The poor dame, very much infatuated with her daughter, like any other silly mother, did not perceive the officer's lack of enthusiasm, and strove in low tones to call his attention to the infinite grace with which Fleur-de-Lee used her needle or wound her skein. "'Come, little cousin,' she said to him, plucking him by the sleeve, in order to speak in his ear. "'Look at her, do, see her stoop.' "'Yes, truly,' replied the young man, and fell back into his glacial and absent-minded silence. A moment later he was obliged to bend down again, and Dame Al-ois said to him, Have you ever beheld a more gay and charming face than that of your betrothed?

Starting point is 10:09:29 Can one be more white and blonde, or not her hands perfect? And that neck! Does it not assume all the curves of the swan in ravishing fashion? How I envy you at times, and how happy you are to be a man, naughty libertine that you are. Is not my flirtedly, adorably beautiful, and are you not desperately in love with her? Of course, he replied, still thinking of something else.

Starting point is 10:10:01 But do say something, said Madame Alois, suddenly giving his shoulder a push. You have grown very timid. We can assure our readers that timidity was neither the captain's virtue nor his defect, but he made an effort to do what was demanded of him. Fair cousin, he said, approaching Fleur de Lee. What is the subject of this tapestry work which you are fashioning? Fair cousin, responded Fleur de Lee, in an offended tone. I have already told you three times.

Starting point is 10:10:38 Tis the grotto of Neptune. It was evident that Fleur de Lee saw much more clearly than her mother through the captain's cold and absent-minded manner. He felt the necessity of making some conversation. "'And for whom is this Neptunerie destined?' "'For the Abbey of St. Antoine de Chapp,' answered Fleur de Lee, without raising her eyes. The captain took up a corner of the tapestry.

Starting point is 10:11:07 "'Who, my fair cousin, is this big gendarme, who is puffing out his cheeks to their full extent and blowing a trumpet?' "'Tis triton,' she replied. There was a rather pettish intonation in Fleur de Lise's laconic words. The young man understood that it was indispensable that he should whisper something in her ear, a commonplace, a gallant compliment, no matter what. Accordingly, he bent down, but he could find nothing in his imagination more tender and personal than this.

Starting point is 10:11:42 Why does your mother always wear that surcoat with our memorial designs, like our grandmothers of the time of Charles the seventh. Tell her, fair cousin, that tis no longer the fashion, and that the hinge and the laurel, embroidered on her robe, give her the air of a walking mental piece. In truth, people no longer sit thus on their banners, I assure you. Fleur de Lee raised her beautiful eyes, full of reproach. "'Is that all of which you can assure me?' she said in a low voice.

Starting point is 10:12:17 In the meantime, de Melois, delighted to see them thus bending towards each other and whispering, said as she toyed with the clasps of her prayer-book, "'Touching picture of love!' The captain, more and more embarrassed, fell back upon the subject of the tapestry. "'Tis in sooth a charming work!' he exclaimed. Whereupon Colom de Gaifontaine, another beautiful blonde, with a white skin, dressed to the neck in blue Damask, ventured a timid remark which she addressed to Fleur de Lee, in the hope that the handsome captain would reply to it.

Starting point is 10:12:57 "'My dear Gondolourier, have you seen the tapestries of the Hotel de la Roche Gaon?' "'Is not that the hotel in which is enclosed the garden of the linger du Louvre?' asked Diane de Christui, with a laugh, for she had handsome teeth, and consequently, laughed on every occasion. And where there is that big old tower of the ancient wall of Paris, added Amalot de Mont-Michel, a pretty fresh and curly-headed brunette, who had a habit of sighing just as the other laughed, without knowing why. My dear Colombe, interpolated Dame Alois, do you not mean the hotel which belonged to Monsieur

Starting point is 10:13:42 de Bakqueville in the reign of King Charles X? There are indeed many superb, high-warp tapestries there. Shar's the sixth! Charles the sixth! muttered the young captain, twirling his mustache. Good heavens! What old things the good Dam does remember! Madame de Gondolier continued. Fine tapestries in truth, a work so esteemed that it passes as unrivaled. At that moment, Barangere's. de Champ Chavrier, a slender little maid of seven years, who was peering into the square

Starting point is 10:14:21 through the tree-foils of the balcony, exclaimed, "'Oh, look, fair godmother Fleur de Lee, at that pretty dancer, who is dancing on the pavement and playing the tambourine in the midst of the loudish bourgeois.' The sonorous vibration of a tambourine was in fact audible. "'Some gypsy from Bohemia,' said Fleur de Lee, turning carelessly. toward the square. Look, look! exclaimed her lively companions,

Starting point is 10:14:52 and they all ran to the edge of the balcony, while Fleur de Lee, rendered thoughtful by the coldness of her betrothed, followed them slowly, and the latter, relieved by this incident, which put an end to an embarrassing conversation, retreated to the farther end of the room, with the satisfied air of a soldier released from duty.

Starting point is 10:15:13 Nevertheless, the fair Fleurte-erable, Deleases was a charming and noble service, and such it had formerly appeared to him. But the captain had gradually become Blase, the prospect of a speedy marriage cooled him more every day. Moreover, he was of a fickle disposition, and, must we say it, rather vulgar in taste. Although a very noble birth, he had contracted in his official harness more than one habit of the common trooper. The tavern and its accompaniments pleased him.

Starting point is 10:15:48 He was only at his ease amid gross language, military gallantries, facile beauties, and successes yet more easy. He had, nevertheless, received from his family some education and some politeness of manner. But he had been thrown on the world too young. He had been in garrison at too early an age, and every day the polish of a gentleman became more and more effaced, by the rough friction of his gendarme's cross-belt.

Starting point is 10:16:18 While still continuing to visit her from time to time, from a remnant of a common respect, he felt doubly embarrassed with Fleur de Lee. In the first place, because, in consequence of having scattered his love in all sorts of places, he had reserved very little for her. In the next place, because, amid so many stiff, formal and decent ladies, he was in constant fear, lest his mouth, habituated to oaths, should suddenly take the bid in its teeth and break out into the language of the tavern. The effect can be imagined. Moreover, all this

Starting point is 10:16:57 was mingled in him with great pretensions to eloquence, toilet, and a fine appearance. Let the reader reconcile these things as best he can. I am simply the historian. He had remained, therefore, for several minutes, leaning in silence against the carved jam of the chimney, and thinking, or not thinking, when Fleur de Lee suddenly turned and addressed him. After all, the poor young girl was pouting against the dictates of her heart. Fair cousin! Did you not speak to us of a little bohemian whom you saved a couple of months ago, while making the patrol with the watch at night from the hands of a dozen robbers? I believe so, fair cousin. said the captain.

Starting point is 10:17:42 "'Well,' she resumed, "'perchance tis that same gypsy girl "'who is dancing yonder on the church square. "'Come and see if you recognize her, "'fair cousin Phoebus.' "'A secret desire for reconciliation "'was apparent in this gentle invitation "'which she gave him to approach her,

Starting point is 10:18:02 "'and in the care which she took to call him by name. "'Captain Phoebus de Chateaupe, "'for it is he whom the reader has had before his eyes since the beginning of this chapter, slowly approached the balcony. "'Stay,' said Flurdily, laying her hand tenderly on Phoebus's arm. "'Look at that little girl yonder, dancing in that circle. Is she your bohemian?' Phoebeus looked and said, "'Yes, I recognize her by her goat.' "'Oh, in fact, what a pretty little goat!' said Amolette, clasping her hands in admiration.

Starting point is 10:18:40 "'Are his horns of real gold?' inquired Berengere. Without moving from her armchair, De Melois interposed. "'Is she not one of those gypsy girls who arrived last year by the Jevard gate?' "'Madame, my mother,' said Fleur-de-Lie gently, "'that gate is now called the Port Dan Fere.' Mademoiselle de Gondolier knew how her mother's antiquated mode of speech shocked the captain. In fact, he began to sneer and muttered between his teeth, "'Port Chabard! Port Chabard! Tis enough to make King Charles the Six pass by!'

Starting point is 10:19:24 "'Godmother!' exclaimed Berengere, whose eyes, incessantly in motion, had suddenly been raised to the summit of the Towers of Notre Dame. Who is that black man up yonder? All the young girls raised their eyes. A man was, in truth, leaning on the balustrade which surmounted the northern tower, looking on the grove. He was a priest. His costume could be plainly discerned, and his face resting on both his hands, but he stirred no more than if he had been a statue. His eyes, intently fixed, gazed into the place. It was something like the immobility of a bird of prey, who has just discovered a nest of sparrows, and is gazing at it.

Starting point is 10:20:11 "'Tis monsieur the archdeacon of José,' said Fleur-de-Lee. "'You have good eyes, if you can recognize him from here,' said the Guy Fontein. "'How he is staring at the little dancer,' went on Dian de Christi. "'Let the gypsy beware,' said Fleur de Lee, "'for he loves not Egypt. "'Tis a great shame for that man to look upon her thus.' added Amelot de Montmarshell, for she dances delightfully. Fair cousin Phoebus, said Fleur de Lee suddenly,

Starting point is 10:20:48 since you know this little gypsy, make her a sign to come up here. It will amuse us. Oh, yes! exclaimed all the young girls, clapping their hands. Why, tis not worthwhile, replied Phoebus. She has forgotten me, no doubt, and I know not, so much as her name. Nevertheless, as you wish it, young ladies, I will make the trial." And leaning over the balustrade of the balcony, he began to shout, "'Little One!' The dancer was not beating her tambourine at the moment. She turned her head towards the point whence this call proceeded. Her brilliant eyes rested on Phoebus, and she stopped

Starting point is 10:21:33 short. "'Little One!' repeated the captain, and he beckoned her to approach. The young girl looked at him again. Then she blushed as though a flame had mounted into her cheeks, and taking her tambourine under her arm she made her way through the astonished spectators towards the door of the house where Phoebus was calling her, with slow, tottering steps, and with the troubled look of a bird which is yielding to the fascination of a serpent. A moment later the tapestry portiere was raised, and the gypsy appeared on the threshold of the chamber, blushing, confused, breathless, her large eyes drooping and not daring

Starting point is 10:22:16 to advance another step. Berengere clapped her hands. Meanwhile, the dancer remained motionless upon the threshold. Her appearance had produced a singular effect upon these young girls. It is certain that a vague and indistinct desire to please the handsome officer animated them all, that his splendid uniform was the target of all their coquettries, and that from the moment he presented himself there existed among them a secret suppressed rivalry, which they hardly acknowledged even to themselves, but which broke forth, nonetheless, every instant in their gestures and remarks. Nevertheless, as they were all very nearly equal in beauty, they contended with equal arms, and each could hope for the victory.

Starting point is 10:23:04 The arrival of the gypsy suddenly destroyed this equilibrium. Her beauty was so rare that, at the moment when she appeared at the entrance of the apartment, it seemed as though she diffused a sort of light which was peculiar to herself. In that narrow chamber, surrounded by that somber frame of hangings and woodwork, she was incomparably more beautiful and more radiant than on the public square. was like a torch which has suddenly been brought from broad daylight into the dark. The noble damsels were dazzled by her in spite of themselves. Each one felt herself in some sort wounded in her beauty. Hence, their battlefront, may we be

Starting point is 10:23:48 allowed, the expression, was immediately altered, although they exchanged not a single word. But they understood each other perfectly. Women's instincts comprehend and respond to each other more quickly than the intelligences of men. An enemy had just arrived. All felt it. All rallied together. One drop of wine is sufficient to tinge a glass of water red. To diffuse a certain degree of ill-temper throughout a whole assembly of pretty women, the arrival of a prettier woman suffices, especially when there is but one man present. Hence the welcome accorded to the gypsy was marvelously glacial. They surveyed her from head to foot, then exchanged glances, and all was said. They understood each other. Meanwhile, the young girl was waiting to be spoken to,

Starting point is 10:24:43 in such emotion that she dared not raise her eyelids. The captain was the first to break the silence. "'Upon my word,' said he, in his tone of intrepid fatuity, "'here is a charming creature.' What think you of her, fair cousin? This remark, which a more delicate admirer would have uttered in a lower tone, at least was not of a nature to dissipate the feminine jealousies, which were on the alert before the gypsy. Fleur de Lee replied to the captain with a bland affectation of disdain. Not bad, the others whispered.

Starting point is 10:25:24 At length, Madame Alois, who was not the less jealous because she was so for her daughter, addressed the dancer. Approach, little one! Approach, little one, repeated with comical dignity, little barangere, who would have reached about as high as her hips. The gypsy advanced towards the noble dame. Fair child, said Phoebus, with emphasis, taking several steps towards her.

Starting point is 10:25:54 I do not know whether I have the supreme honor of being recognized by you. She interrupted him with a smile and a look full of infinite sweetness. "'Oh, yes,' said she. "'She has a good memory,' remarked fleur-de-lie. "'Come now,' resumed Phoebus. "'You escaped nimbly the other evening. Did I frighten you?' "'Oh, no,' said the gypsy.

Starting point is 10:26:22 There was in the intonation of that, oh no, uttered after that, oh, yes, an ineffable something which wounded Fleur de Lee. "'You left me in your stead, my beauty,' pursued the captain, whose tongue was unloosed when speaking to a girl out of the street. A crabbed knave, one-eyed and hunchbacked, the bishop's bell-ringer, I believe. I have been told that, by birth, he is the bastard of an archdeacon and a devil. He has a pleasant name. He is called, Quantres.

Starting point is 10:26:56 T'et-Tom, Peque-Flourie, Mardi Grub, I know not what, the name of some festival when the bells are peeled. So he took the liberty of carrying you off, as though you were made for beetles. Tis too much. What the devil did that screech I'll want with you? Hey, tell me. I do not know, she replied. The inconceivable impudence. A bell-ringer carrying off a wench, like a vicompt.

Starting point is 10:27:26 A lout poaching on the game of gentlemen! That is a rare piece of assurance. However, he paid dearly for it. Master Perrier Torturu is the harshest groom that ever curried a knave, and I can tell you, if it will be agreeable to you, that your bell-ringer's hide got a thorough dressing at his hands. "'Poor man,' said the gypsy, in whom these words revived the memory of the pillory.

Starting point is 10:27:55 The captain burst out laughing. "'Corn de Beau! Here's pity as well-placed as a feather in a pig's tail. May I have as big a belly as a pope if—' He stopped short. Pardon me, ladies. I believe that I was on the point of saying something foolish. "'Fie, sir,' said La Guy Fontein. "'He talks to that creature in her own tongue,' added Fleur-de-Lee, in a low tone, her irritation increasing every moment. This irritation was not diminished when she beheld the captain, enchanted with the gypsy,

Starting point is 10:28:33 and most of all with himself, execute a pirouet on his heel, repeating with coarse, naive and soldierly gallantry. "'A handsome wench upon my soul!' "'Rather savagely dressed,' said Dianna Christwe, laughing to show her fine teeth. This remark was a flash of light to the others. Not being able to impugn her beauty, they attacked her costume. "'That is true,' said La Montmichelle. "'What makes you run about the streets thus, without Guimpe or rough?'

Starting point is 10:29:08 "'That petticoat is so short that it makes one tremble,' added La Guy Fontaine. "'My dear,' continued Fleur-de-Lee, with decided sharpness, You will get yourself taken up by the sumptuary police for your gilded girdle. "'Little one, little one,' resumed La Cristuie, with an implacable smile. "'If you were to put respectable sleeves upon your arms, they would get less sunburned.' It was, in truth, a spectacle worthy of a more intelligent spectator than Phoebus to see how these beautiful maidens with their envenomed and angry tongues wound, serpent-like, and glided and writhed around the street-dancer.

Starting point is 10:29:54 They were cruel and graceful. They searched and rummaged maliciously in her poor and silly toilet of spangles and tinsel. There was no end to their laughter, irony, and humiliation. Sarcasms reigned down upon the gypsy, and haughty condescension and malevolent looks. One would have thought they were young Roman dames, thrusting golden pins into the the breast of a beautiful slave. One would have pronounced them elegant greyhounds, circling with inflated nostrils round a poor woodland fawn, whom the glance of their master forbade them to devour. After all, what was a miserable dancer on the public squares in the presence of these high-born maidens? They seemed to take no heed of her presence, and talked of her

Starting point is 10:30:43 allowed, to her face, as of something unclean, abject, and yet, at the same time, passively pretty. The gypsy was not insensible to these pinpricks. From time to time, a flush of shame, a flash of anger inflamed her eyes or her cheeks. With disdain she made that little grimace with which the reader is already familiar, but she remained motionless. She fixed on Phoebus a sad, sweet, resigned look. There was also half a half-a-house. happiness and tenderness in that gaze. One would have said that she endured for fear of being expelled. Phoebus laughed, and took the gypsies part with a mixture of impertinence and pity. "'Let them talk, little one,' he repeated, jingling his golden spurs.

Starting point is 10:31:32 "'No doubt your toilet is a little extravagant and wild, but what difference does that make with such a charming damsel as yourself?' "'Good gracious!' exclaimed the blonde Guy Fontein, drawing up her swan-like throat with a bitter smile. "'I see that messieurs, the archers of the king's police, "'easily take fire at the handsome eyes of gypsies.' "'Why not?' said Phoebus. "'At this reply, uttered carelessly by the captain,

Starting point is 10:32:04 "'like a stray stone, whose fall one does not even watch, "'Colome began to laugh as well as Diane, Amelot, and Fleur-de-Lee. into whose eyes at the same time a tear started. The gypsy, who had dropped her eyes on the floor at the words of Colom de Gaifontaine, raised them beaming with joy and pride and fixed them once more on Phoebus. She was very beautiful at that moment. The old dame, who was watching this scene, felt offended, without understanding why. "'Holy Virgin!' she suddenly exclaimed.

Starting point is 10:32:39 "'What is it moving about my legs?' Ah, the villainous beast! It was the goat, who had just arrived, in search of his mistress, and who, in dashing towards the ladder, had begun by entangling his horns in the pile of stuffs which the noble dame's garments heaped upon her feet when she was seated. This created a diversion. The gypsy disentangled his horns without uttering a word. Oh, here's the little goat with golden hoofs, exclaimed Berengere, dancing with joy. The gypsy crouched down on her knees and leaned her cheek against the fondling

Starting point is 10:33:17 head of the goat. One would have said that she was asking pardon for having quitted it thus. Meanwhile, Dianne had bent down to Cologne's ear. Ah, good heavens, why did not I think of that sooner? Tis the gypsy with the goat! They say she is a sorceress, and that her goat executes very miraculous tricks. Well, said Cologne, the goat must now amuse us in its turn and perform a miracle for us. Deanne and Cologne eagerly addressed the gypsy. Little one, make your goat perform a miracle. I do not know what you mean, replied the dancer.

Starting point is 10:33:59 A miracle, a piece of magic, a bit of sorcery in short. I do not understand, and she fell to caressing the pretty animal, repeating, Jolly, jolly! At that moment, Flourdeley noticed a little bag of embroidered leather suspended from the neck of the goat. What is that, she asked of the gypsy. The gypsy raised her large eyes upon her and replied gravely, That is my secret.

Starting point is 10:34:29 I should really like to know what your secret is, thought Flordalee. Meanwhile, the good dame had risen angrily. Come now, Gypsy. If neither you nor your goat can dance for us, what are you doing here?' The gypsy walked slowly towards the door without making any reply. But the nearer she approached it, the more her pace slackened. An irresistible magnet seemed to hold her. Suddenly she turned her eyes, wet with tears, towards Phoebus, and halted.

Starting point is 10:35:01 "'True, God!' exclaimed the captain. "'That's no way to depart. Come back and dance something for us. By the way, my sweet love, what is your name?' "'La Esmeralda,' said the dancer, never taking her eyes from him. At this strange name, a burst of wild laughter broke from the young girls. "'Here's a terrible name for a young lady,' said Deanne. "'You see well enough,' retorted Amelot, that she is an enchantress.

Starting point is 10:35:33 "'My dear,' exclaimed Dame Alois solemnly, your parents did not commit the sin of giving you that name at the baptismal font. In the meantime, several minutes previously, Berengere had coaxed the goat into a corner of the room with a marsh pancake, without anyone having noticed her. In an instant they had become good friends. The curious child had detached the bag from the goat's neck, had opened it, and had emptied out its contents on the rush matting. It was an alphabet, each letter of which was separately inscribed on a tiny block of boxwood.

Starting point is 10:36:12 Hardly had these playthings been spread out on the matting, when the child, with surprise, beheld the goat, one of whose miracles this was, no doubt, draw out certain letters with its golden hoof, and arrange them with gentle pushes in a certain order. In a moment they constituted a word, which the goat seemed to have been trained to write, so little hesitation did it show in forming it. And Beranger suddenly exclaimed, clasping her hands in admiration, Godmother Fleur-de-Lee, see what the goat has just done. Fleur-de-Lee ran up and trembled.

Starting point is 10:36:50 The letters arranged upon the floor formed this word. Phoebus. Was it the goat who wrote that? She inquired in a changed voice. Yes, godmother, replied. Berengere. It was impossible to doubt it. The child did not know how to write. This is the secret, thought Fleur de Lee. Meanwhile, at the child's exclamation, all had hastened up, the mother, the young girls, the gypsy, and the officer. The gypsy beheld the piece of folly

Starting point is 10:37:26 which the goat had committed. She turned red, then pale, and began to tremble, like a culprit before the captain, who gave her. gazed at her with a smile of satisfaction and amazement. "'Phibus!' whispered the young girls, stupefied. "'Tis the captain's name!' "'You have a marvelous memory,' said Fleur de Lee to the petrified gypsy. Then, bursting into sobs, "'Oh!' she stammered mournfully, hiding her face in both her beautiful hands.

Starting point is 10:38:01 "'She is a magician!' And she heard another, and a still more bitter voice at the bottom of her heart saying, She is a rival. She fell fainting. My daughter! My daughter! cried the terrified mother. Be gone, you gypsy of hell! In a twinkling, La Esmeralda gathered up the unlucky letters, made a sign to Jolly, and went out through one door, while Fleur-de-Lee was being carried out through the other.

Starting point is 10:38:31 Captain Phoebus, on being left alone, hesitated for a moment between the two doors. Then he followed the gypsy. End of Book 7, Chapter 1. Book 7 Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 7 Chapter 2. A priest and a philosopher are two different things. The priests whom the young girls had observed at the top of the North Tower, leaning over

Starting point is 10:39:18 the place and so attentive to the dance of the Gypsy, was, in fact, Archdeacon Claude Frollo. Our readers have not forgotten a mysterious cell which the Archdeacon had reserved for himself in that tower. I do not know, by the way be it said, whether it be not the same, the interior of which can be seen to-day through a little square window, opening to the east at the height of a man above the platform from which the towers spring, a bare and dilapidated den whose badly plastered walls are ornamented here and there, at the present day, with some wretched yellow engravings representing the facades of cathedrals. I presume that this hole is jointly

Starting point is 10:40:01 inhabited by bats and spiders, and that, consequently, it wages a double war of extermination on the flies. Every day, an hour before sunset, the archdeacon, a. ascended the staircase to the tower, and shut himself up in this cell, where he sometimes passed whole nights. That day, at the moment when, standing before the low door of his retreat, he was fitting into the lock the complicated little key which he always carried about him in the purse suspended to his side, a sound of tambourine and castanets had reached his ear. These sounds came from the place to parvy.

Starting point is 10:40:39 The cell, as we have already said, had only one window. opening upon the rear of the church. Claude Frollo had hastily withdrawn the key, and instant later he was on the top of the tower, in the gloomy and pensive attitude in which the maidens had seen him. There he stood, grave, motionless, absorbed in one look and one thought. All Paris lay at his feet, with the thousand spires of its edifices and its circuit or horizon of gentle hills, with its river winding under its bridges, and its people moving to and fro through its streets, with the clouds of its smoke, with the mountainous chain of its roofs, which presses Notre Dame in its doubled folds. But out of all the city, the archdeacon gazed at only one corner of the

Starting point is 10:41:29 pavement, the place to parvi, in all that throng at but one figure, the gypsy. It would have been difficult to say what was the nature of this look, and whence preceded the flame that flashed from it. It was a fixed gaze, which was nevertheless full of trouble and tumult. And from the profound immobility of his whole body, barely agitated at intervals by an involuntary shiver as a tree is moved by the wind, from the stiffness of his elbows, more marble than the balustrade in which they leaned, or the sight of the petrified smile which contracted his face, one would have said that nothing living was left about Claude Frollo except his eyes.

Starting point is 10:42:16 The gypsy was dancing. She was twirling her tambourine on the tip of her finger and tossing it into the air as she danced Provensal Sarabans, agile, light, joyous, and unconscious of the formidable gaze which descended perpendicularly upon her head. The crowd was swarming around her. From time to time a man accoutred in red and yellow made them form into a circle, and then returned, seated himself on a chair a few paces from the dancer, and took the goat's head on his knees.

Starting point is 10:42:49 The man seemed to be the gypsy's companion. Claude Frollo could not distinguish his features from his elevated post. From the moment when the archdeacon caught sight of this stranger, his attention seemed divided between him and the dancer, and his face became more and more gloomely. me. All at once he rose upright, and a quiver ran through his whole body. "'Who is that man?' he muttered between his teeth. "'I have always seen her alone before.' Then he plunged down beneath the tortuous vault of the spiral staircase, and once more

Starting point is 10:43:26 descended. As he passed the door of the bell-chamber, which was ajar, he saw something which struck him. He beheld Quasimodo, who, leaning through an opening of one of those slate penthouses, which resemble enormous blinds, appeared also to be gazing at the place. He was engaged in so profound a contemplation that he did not notice the passage of his adopted father. His savage eye had a singular expression. It was a charmed, tender look. "'This is strange,' murmured Claude. "'Is it the gypsy at whom he is thus gazing?'

Starting point is 10:44:05 He continued his descent. At the end of a few minutes the anxious archdeacon entered upon the place from the door at the base of the tower. "'What has become of the gypsy girl?' he said, mingling with the group of spectators which the sound of the tambourine had collected. "'I know not,' replied one of his neighbors. "'I think that she has gone to make some of her fandangos in the house opposite, whither they have called her.' In the place of the gypsy, on the carpet, whose arabesques had seemed to vanish but a moment

Starting point is 10:44:38 previously by the capricious figures of her dance, the archdeacon no longer beheld anyone but the red and yellow man, who, in order to earn a few testers in his turn, was walking round the circle with his elbows on his hips, his head thrown back, his face red, his neck outstretched with a chair between his teeth. To the chair he had fastened a cat, which a neighbor had lent, and which was spitting in great affright. "'Nautradame!' exclaimed the archdeacon, at the moment when the juggler, perspiring heavily, passed in front of him with his pyramid of chair and his cat. "'What is Master Pierre Gringwa doing here?'

Starting point is 10:45:18 The harsh voice of the archdeacon threw the poor fellow into such a commotion that he lost his equilibrium, together with his whole edifice, and the chair and the cat tumbled pell-mell upon the heads of the spectators, in the midst of inextinguishable hootings. It is probable that Master Pierre Gringwa, for it was indeed he, would have had a sorry account to settle with the neighbor who owned the cat, and all the bruised and scratched faces which surrounded him, if he had not hastened to profit by the tumult to take refuge in the church, whither Claude Frollo had made him a sign to follow him. The cathedral was already dark and deserted.

Starting point is 10:45:59 The side aisles were full of shadows, and the lamps of the chapels began to shine out like stars, so black had the vaulted ceiling become. Only the great rose window of the façade, whose thousand colors were steeped in a ray of horizontal sunlight, glittered in the gloom like a mass of diamonds, and threw its dazzling reflection to the other end of the nave. When they had advanced a few paces, Dom Claude placed his back against a pillar and gazed intently at Gringwa. The gaze was not the one which Gringua feared, shamed as he was of having been caught by a grave and learned person in the costume of a buffoon. There was nothing

Starting point is 10:46:41 mocking or ironical in the priest's glance. It was serious, tranquil, piercing. The archdeacon was the first to break the silence. "'Come now, Master Pierre, you are to explain many things to me. 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 Cotebeck apple. "'Monsieur,' said Gringua piteously, "'it is, in fact, an amazing accoutrement. You see me no more comfortable in it than a cat quaffed with a calabash.

Starting point is 10:47:24 "'Tis very ill done, I am conscious, to expose Missiers the sergeants of the watch to the liability of a cudgeling beneath this cacic the humorous of a Pythagorean philosopher. "'But what would you have, my reverend master? Tis the fault of my ancient jerkin, which abandoned me in cowardly wise at the beginning of the winter, under the pretext, that it was falling into tatters, and that it required repose in the basket of a rag-picker. What is one to do? Civilization has not yet arrived at the point where one can go stark naked as ancient Diogenes wished. Add that a very cold wind was blowing, and tis not in the month of January that one can successfully attempt to make humanity take this new step. This garment presented itself,

Starting point is 10:48:16 I took it, and I left my ancient black smock, which, for a hermetic like myself, was far from being hermetically closed. Behold me, then, in the guiseach. In the guesion. garments of a stage-player, like Saint-Ginnest, what would you have? Tis an eclipse. Apollo himself tended the flocks of Atmedus. "'Tis a fine profession that you are engaged in,' replied the archdeacon. "'I agree, my master, that tis better to philosophize and poetize, to blow the flame in the furnace, or to receive it from carry-cats on a shield. So when you addressed me, I was as foolish as an ass before a turn-spit. But what would you have, monsieur?

Starting point is 10:49:02 One must eat every day, and the finest Alexandrine verses are not worth a bit of brie-cheese. Now I made for Madame Margarita Flanders that famous epithalamium, as you know, and the city will not pay me, under the pretext that it was not. excellent, as though one could give a tragedy of Sophocles for four crowns. Hence, I was on the point of dying with hunger. Happily I found that I was rather strong in the jaw, so I said to this jaw, perform some feats of strength and of equilibrium. Nourish thyself. Ali Ti-Ipsam. A pack of beggars, who have become my good friends, have taught me twenty sorts of Herculean feats, and now I give my teeth every evening the bread which they have earned during the day

Starting point is 10:49:56 by the sweat of my brow. After all, concede, I grant that it is a sad employment for my intellectual faculties, and that man is not made to pass his life in beating the tambourine and biting chairs. But, Reverend Master, it is not sufficient to pass one's life. One must earn the means for life. Dom Claude listened in silence. All at once, his deep-set-eye assumed so sagacious and penetrating an expression that Gringwa felt himself, so to speak, searched to the bottom of the soul by that glance.

Starting point is 10:50:36 Very good, Master Pierre, but how comes it that you are now in company with that gypsy dancer? In faith, said Gringwa, tis because she is my wife, and I am her husband. The priest's gloomy eyes flashed into flame. "'Have you done that, you wretch?' he cried, seizing Gringua's arm with fury. "'Have you been so abandoned by God as to raise your hand against that girl?' "'On my chance of paradise, Monseigneur,' replied Gringua, trembling in every limb. "'I swear to you that I have never touched her, if that is what disturbs you.'

Starting point is 10:51:16 "'Then why do you talk of husband and wife? "'Life!' said the priest. Gringua made haste to relate to him as succinctly as possible, all that the reader already knows, his adventure in the court of miracles and the broken-crock marriage. It appeared, moreover, that this marriage had led to no results whatever, and that each evening the gypsy-girl cheated him of his nuptial right as on the first day. "'Tis a mortification,' he said in conclusion, but that is because I have had the misfortune to wed a virgin. What do you mean? demanded the archdeacon, who had been gradually appeased by this recital.

Starting point is 10:51:58 "'Tis very difficult to explain,' replied the poet. "'It is a superstition. My wife is, according to when an old thief, who is called among us the Duke of Egypt has told me, a foundling or a lost child, which is the same thing. She wears on her neck an amulet, which it is affirmed will cause her to meet her parents someday, but which will lose its virtue if the young girl loses hers. Hence it follows that both of us remain very virtuous. So, resumed Claude, whose brow cleared more and more, You believe, Master Pierre, that this creature has not been approached by any man?

Starting point is 10:52:42 What would you have a man do, Dom Claude? as against a superstition. She has got that in her head. I assuredly esteem as a rarity this nun-like prudery, which is preserved untamed amid those bohemian girls who are so easily brought into subjection. But she has three things to protect her. The Duke of Egypt, who has taken her under his safeguard, reckoning perchance on selling her to some gay abb, all his tribe, who hold her in singular veneration, like a Notre Dame, and a certain tiny poniard which the buxom dame always wears about her in some nook, in spite of the ordinances of the provost, and which one causes to fly out into her hands by squeezing her waist. Tis a proud wasp I can tell you."

Starting point is 10:53:34 The archdeacon pressed Gringua with questions. La Esmeralda, in the judgment of Gringua, was an inoffensive and charming creature, pretty, with the exception of a pout which was peculiar to her. A naive and passionate damsel, ignorant of everything and enthusiastic about everything, not yet aware of the difference between a man and a woman, even in her dreams. Made like that, wild, especially over dancing, noise, the open air. A sort of woman bee, with invisible wings on her feet and living in a world wind. She owed this nature to the wandering life which she had always led. Gringua had succeeded in learning that, while a mere child,

Starting point is 10:54:21 she had traversed Spain and Catalonia, even to Sicily. He believed that she had even been taken by the caravan of Zingari, of which she formed apart to the Kingdom of Algiers, a country situated in Achaia, which country adjoins on one side Albania and Greece, on the other the Sicilian Sea. which is the road to Constantinople. The Bohemians, said Gringwa, were vassals of the King of Algiers, in his quality of chief of the

Starting point is 10:54:52 white moors. One thing is certain that La Asmeralda had come to France while still very young by way of Hungary. From all these countries the young girl had brought back fragments of queer jargons, songs, and strange ideas, which made her language as motley as her costume. half Parisian, half African. However, the people of the quarters which she frequented loved her for her gaiety, her daintiness, her lively manners, her dances, and her songs.

Starting point is 10:55:24 She believed herself to be hated in all the city by but two persons, of whom she often spoke in terror, the sacked none of the Toul Roland, a villainous recluse who cherished some secret grudge against these gypsies, and who cursed the poor dancer every time that the latter passed before her window, and a priest, who never met her without casting at her looks and words which frightened her. The mention of this last circumstance disturbed the archdeacon greatly, though Gringwa paid no attention to his perturbation. To such an extent had the

Starting point is 10:56:02 two months suffice to cause the heedless poet to forget the singular details of the evening on which he had met the gypsy and the presence of the archdeacon in it all. Otherwise, the little dancer feared nothing. She did not tell fortunes, which protected her against those trials for magic, which were so frequently instituted against gypsy women. And then Gringwa held the position of her brother, if not of her husband. After all, the philosopher endured this sort of platonic marriage very patiently. It meant a shelter and bred at least.

Starting point is 10:56:39 Every morning he set out from the lair of the thieves, generally with the gypsy. He helped her make her collection of targes and little blanks in the squares. Each evening he returned to the same roof with her, allowed her to bolt herself into her little chamber, and slept the sleep of the just. A very sweet existence, taking it all in all, he said, and well adapted to reverie. And then, on his soul and conscience, the philosopher was not very sure that he was madly in love with the gypsy. He loved her goat almost as dearly. It was a charming animal, gentle, intelligent, clever, a learned goat. Nothing was more common in the Middle Ages than these learned animals, which amazed people greatly, and often led their

Starting point is 10:57:29 instructors to the stake. But the witchcraft of the goat with the golden hoofs was a very innocent species of magic. Gringwa explained them to the archdeacon, whom these details seemed to interest deeply. In the majority of cases, it was sufficient to present the tambourine to the goat in such or such a manner, in order to obtain from him the trick desired. He had been trained to this by the gypsy, who possessed in these delicate arts, so rare a talent that two months had sufficed to teach the goat to write, with movable letters the word Phoebus. "'Phibus,' said the priest. "'Why, Phoebus?'

Starting point is 10:58:11 "'I know not,' replied Gringua. "'Perhaps it is a word which she believes to be endowed with some magic and secret virtue. She often repeats it in a low tone when she thinks that she is alone.' "'Are you sure?' persisted Claude, with his penetrating glance, "'that it is only a word and not a name.' "'The name of whom?' said the poet. "'How should I know?' said the priest. "'That is what I imagine, monsieur.

Starting point is 10:58:42 These bohemians are something like Gerbers, and adore the sun, hence Phoebus.' "'That does not seem so clear to me as to you, Master Pierre. After all, that does not concern me. Let her mumble her Phoebus at her pleasure. One thing is certain that Jolly loves me almost as much as he does her.' "'Who is jolly?' "'The goat!' The archdeacon dropped his chin into his hand,

Starting point is 10:59:12 and appeared to reflect for a moment. All at once he turned abruptly to Gringua once more. "'And do you swear to me that you have not touched her?' "'Whom?' said Gringua. "'The goat?' "'No, that woman. "'My wife, I swear to you that I have not.' "'You are often alone with her?'

Starting point is 10:59:35 A good hour every evening. Poor Claude frowned. Oh, oh, solas cumsola, non-cogita buntur orare paternaster. Upon my soul, I could say the pater and the Ave Maria and the credo in diom patrum omnipotentum, without her paying any more attention to me than a chicken to a church. Swear to me by the body of your mother,

Starting point is 11:00:04 repeated the archdeacon violently, that you have not touched that creature with even the tip of your finger. 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.

Starting point is 11:00:31 He remained for a moment without answer. Then, with visible embarrassment, "'Listen, Master Pierre Gringwa, you are not yet damned, so far as I know. I take an interest in you and wish you well. Now the least contact with that Egyptian of the demon would make you the vassal of Satan. You know that tis always the body which ruins the soul.

Starting point is 11:00:57 Woe to you if you approach that woman, that is all!' "'I tried once,' said Grinquess. Ringuas, scratching his ear. It was on the first day, but I got stung. "'You were so audacious, Master Pierre,' and the priest's brow clouded over again. "'On another occasion,' continued the poet, with a smile, "'I peeped through the keyhole before going to bed, and I beheld the most delicious dame in her shift that ever made a bed-creak under her bare foot. "'Go to the devil!' cried the priest with a terrible look, and giving the amazed Gringua a push on the shoulders, he plunged with long strides under the gloomiest arcades of the cathedral.

Starting point is 11:01:47 End of Book 7, Chapter 2. Book 7 Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 7 Chapter 3 The Bells After the morning in the pillory, the neighbors of Notre Dame thought they noticed that Quasimodo's ardor for ringing had grown cool. Formerly, there had been peals for every occasion, long morning serenades, which lasted from prime to compline, peels from the belfry for a high mass, rich scales drawn over the smaller bells for a wedding, or a christening, and a mingling in the air like a rich embroidery of all sorts of charming sounds.

Starting point is 11:02:41 The old church, all vibrating and sonorous, was in a perpetual joy of bells. One was constantly conscious of the presence of a spirit of noise and caprice, who sang through all those mouths of brass. Now that spirit seemed to have departed. The cathedral seemed gloomy and gladly remained silent. Festivals and funerals had the simple, peel, dry and bare, demanded by the ritual, nothing more. Of the double noise which constitutes a church, the organ within, the bell without, the organ alone remained. One would have said

Starting point is 11:03:19 that there was no longer a musician in the belfry. Quasimodo was always there nevertheless. What then had happened to him? Was it that the shame and despair of the pillory still lingered in the bottom of his heart, that the lashes of his tormentor's whip reverberated unendingly in his soul, and that the sadness of such treatment had wholly extinguished in him even his passion for the bells? Or was it that Marie had a rival in the heart of the bell-ringer of Notre Dame, and that the great bell and her fourteen sisters were neglected for something more amiable and more beautiful? It chanced that, in the year of Grace, 1482, a nuncied Day fell on Tuesday, the 25th of March. That day the air was so pure and light that Quasimodo

Starting point is 11:04:11 felt some returning affection for his bells. He therefore ascended the northern tower, while the beetle below was opening wide the doors of the church, which were then enormous panels of stout wood covered with leather, bordered with nails of gilded iron, and framed in carvings, very artistically elaborated. On arriving in the lofty bell-chamber, Quasimoto gazed for some time at the six bells and shook his head sadly, as though groaning over some foreign element which had interposed itself in his heart between them and him. And when he had set them to swinging, when he felt that cluster of bells moving under his hand, when he saw, for he did not hear it, the palpitating octave ascend and descend that sonorous scale, like a bird,

Starting point is 11:05:00 hopping from branch to branch. When the demon music, that demon who shakes a sparkling bundle of strata, trills, and arpeggios, had taken possession of the poor deaf man, he became happy once more. He forgot everything, and his heart expanding made his face beam. He went and came, he beat his hands together, he ran from rope to rope, He animated the six singers with voice and gesture like the leader of an orchestra who is urging on intelligent musicians. "'Go on!' said he.

Starting point is 11:05:36 "'Go on! Go on, Gabriel! Pour out all thy noise into the place. Tis a festival to-day! No laziness, Thibaut, thou art relaxing! Go on, go on then! Art thou rustled thou sluggard? That is well! Quick! Quick!

Starting point is 11:05:53 Let not thy clapper be seen. Make them all deaf like me. That's it, Thibaut, bravely done. Gaiom, Gaiom, thou art the largest, and Pascier is the smallest, and Paskier does best. Let us wager that those who hear him will understand him better than they understand thee. Good, good, my Gabriel, stoutly, more stoutly. Eli, what are you doing up aloft there? You too, manor. I do not see you making the least shred of noise. What is the meaning of those beaks of copper which seem to be gaping when they should sing? Come, work now! Tis the feast of the Annunciation!

Starting point is 11:06:37 The sun is fine. The chime must be fine also. Poor Gaiom, thou art all out of breath, my big fellow! He was wholly absorbed in spurring on his bells, all six of which vied with each other, in leaping and leaping, shaking their shiny haunches, like a noisy team of Spanish mules, pricked on here and there by the apostrophes of the muleteer. All at once, on letting his glance fall between the large slate scales which covered the perpendicular wall of the bell-tower at a certain height,

Starting point is 11:07:11 he beheld on the square a young girl, fantastically dressed, stop, spread out on the ground a carpet, on which a small goat took up its post, and a group of spectators collect around her. This sight suddenly changed the course of his ideas and congealed his enthusiasm as a breath of air congeals melted razzin. He halted, turned his back to the bells, and crouched down behind the projecting roof of slate, fixing upon the dancer that dreamy, sweet, and tender look which had already astonished the archdeacon on one occasion. Meanwhile, the forgotten bells died away abruptly and altogether, to the great disappointment of the lovers of bell-ringing,

Starting point is 11:07:55 who were listening in good faith to the peal from above the Pont of Sange, and who went away dumbfounded, like a dog who had been offered a bone and given a stone. End of Book 7, Chapter 3. Book 7, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 7, Chapter 4, Anark. It chanced that upon a fine morning in this same month of March, I think it was on Saturday

Starting point is 11:08:35 the 29th, Saint-Eustache's Day, our young friend, the student, Jahan Frollo Dumoulin, perceived, as he was dressing himself, that his breeches, which contained his purse, gave out no metallic ring. "'Poor purse!' he said, drawing it from his fob. "'What, not the smallest parisie? How cruelly the dice, beer-pots, and Venus have depleted thee! How empty, wrinkled, limp thou art! Thou resemblest the throat of a fury!

Starting point is 11:09:10 I ask you, M. Cicero and M. Seneca, copies of whom, all dogs-eared, I behold scattered on the floor, what profits it me to know, better than any governor of the mint, or any Jew on the Pont or Shang-Gur, that a golden crown stand with a crown is worth thirty-five unsands of twenty-five sous, and eight deniers parisi apiece, and that a crown stamped with a crescent is worth thirty-six onsanes of twenty-six sous, six deniers-ton-to-nois apiece, if I have not a single wretched black liar to risk on the double-sixth. Oh, consuls Cicero, this is no calamity from which one extricates oneself with paraphrases. Quimadmodum and verum inyreys,

Starting point is 11:09:57 Mero!" He dresses himself sadly. An idea had occurred to him as he laced his boots, but he rejected it at first. Nevertheless, it returned, and he put on his waistcoat wrong side out, an evident sign of violent internal combat. At last he dashed his cap roughly on the floor and exclaimed, "'So much the worse! Let come of it what may!

Starting point is 11:10:23 I am going to my brother! I shall catch a sermon, but I shall catch a crown." Then he hastily donned his long jacket with furred half-sleeves, picked up his cap, and went out like a man driven to desperation. He descended the Rue de la Arpe toward the city. As he passed the Rue de la Uchette, the odor of those admirable spits which were incessantly turning, tickled his olfactory apparatus, and he bestowed a loving glance toward the cyclopean roast, which one day drew from the Franciscan friar Calatigaroni this pathetic

Starting point is 11:11:01 exclamation. Veramente, quest de rotisserie sono cost stupenda. Truly, these roastings are a stupendous thing. But Jehan had not the wherewithal to buy a breakfast, and he plunged with a profound sigh under the gateway of the Petit Chattelais, that enormous double-tree-foil of massive towers which guarded the entrance to the city. He did not even take the trouble to cast a stone in passing, as was the usage, at the miserable statue of that Perinet-Laclair, who had delivered up the Paris of Sharrows

Starting point is 11:11:39 the Sixth to the English, a crime which his effigy, its face battered with stones and soiled with mud, expiated for three centuries at the corner of the Rue de la Arpe and the Rue de Bucci as an eternal pillory. The Petitpont traversed, the Rue Nove Saint-Genvié crossed, Jean de Melendino found himself in front of Notre Dame. Then, indecision seized upon him once more, and he paced for several minutes round the statue of Monsieur Lagri, repeating to himself with anguish,

Starting point is 11:12:14 The sermon is sure, the crown is doubtful. He stopped a beetle who emerged from the cloister. "'Where is Monsieur the Archdeacon of José?' "'I believe that he is in his secret cell in the tower,' said the beetle. "'I should advise you not to disturb him there, unless you come from someone like the Pope or Monsieur the King.' Jehan clapped his hands. "'Beckliabla, here's a magnificent chance to see the famous sorcery cell.'

Starting point is 11:12:46 This reflection, having brought him to a decision, he plunged resolutely in the into the small black doorway, and began the ascent of the spiral of Saad Gilles, which leads to the upper stories of the tower. "'I am going to see,' he said to himself on the way. "'By the ravens of the Holy Virgin, it must needs be a curious thing, that cell which my reverend brother hide so secretly. "'Tis said that he lights up the kitchens of hell there, and that he cooks the philosopher's stone there over a hot fire.

Starting point is 11:13:21 "'Bedieu, I care no more for the Philosopher's stone than for a pebble, and I would rather find over his furnace an omelette of Easter eggs and bacon than the biggest philosopher's stone in the world.' On arriving at the gallery of slender columns he took a breath for a moment, and swore against the interminable staircase by I know not how many million cartloads of devils. Then he resumed his ascent through the narrow door of the North Tower, now close. to the public. Several moments after passing the bell-chamber he came upon a little landing-place, built in a lateral niche, and under the vault of a low-pointed door, whose enormous lock

Starting point is 11:14:04 and strong iron bars he was unable to see through a loophole pierced in the opposite circular wall of the staircase. Persons desirous of visiting this door at the present day will recognize it by this inscription engraved in white letters on the black wall. Jadouré, Corallet, Corrali, 1823. Signet-Eugène. Signet stands in the text. Ugh, said the scholar. Tis here, no doubt.

Starting point is 11:14:34 The key was in the lock. The door was very close to him. He gave it a gentle push and thrust his head through the opening. The reader cannot have failed to turn over the admirable works of Rembrandt, that Shakespeare of painting. Amid so many marvellous engraving. there is one etching in particular, which is supposed to represent Dr. Faust, and which it is impossible to contemplate without being dazzled. It represents a gloomy cell. In the center is a table loaded with hideous objects, skulls, spheres, alembics, compasses, hieroglyphic parchments.

Starting point is 11:15:14 The doctor is before this table clad in his large coat and covered to the very eyebrows with his furred cap. He is visible only to his waist. He has half risen from his immense armchair, his clenched fists rest on the table, and he is gazing with curiosity and terror at a large luminous circle, formed of magic letters which gleams from the wall beyond, like the solar spectrum in a dark chamber. This cabalistic sun seems to tremble before the eye, and fills the Wan's cell with its mysterious radiance. It is horrible, and it is beautiful. Something very similar to Faust's cell presented itself to Jehan's view, when he ventured his head through the half-open door. It also was a gloomy and sparsely lighted retreat. There also stood a large

Starting point is 11:16:09 arm-chair and a large table, compasses, alembics, skeletons of animals suspended from the ceiling, a globe rolling on the floor, hippocephaly mingled promiscuously with drinking cups in which quivered leaves of gold, skulls placed upon vellum checkered with figures and characters, huge manuscripts piled up wide open without mercy on the cracking corners of the parchment. In short, all the rubbish of science, and everywhere on this confusion, dust, and spider's webs. But there was no circle of luminous letters, no doctor in an ecstasy contemplating the flaming vision as the eagle gazes upon the sun. Nevertheless, the cell was not deserted. A man was seated in the armchair and bending over the table. Jehan, to whom his back was turned, could see only his shoulders and the back

Starting point is 11:17:05 of his skull. But he had no difficulty in recognizing that bald head, which nature had provided with an eternal tonsure, as though desirous of marking, by this external symbol, the archdeacon's irresistible clerical vocation. Jehan accordingly recognized his brother, but the door had been opened so softly that nothing warned Dom Claude of his presence. The inquisitive scholar took advantage of this circumstance to examine the cell for a few moments at his leisure. A large furnace, which he had not at first observed, stood to the left of the armchair beneath the window. The ray of light which penetrated through this aperture made its way through a spider's circular web, which, tastefully inscribed its delicate rows in the arch of the window,

Starting point is 11:17:54 and in the center of which the insect architect hung motionless, like the hub of this wheel of lace. Upon the furnace were accumulated in disorder, all sorts of vases, earthenware bottles, glass retort, and mattresses of charcoal. Shahan observed, with a sigh, that there was no frying-pan. "'How cold the kitchen utensils are,' he said to himself. "'In fact, there was no fire in the furnace, and it seemed as though none had been lighted for a long time. A glass mask which Shahan noticed among the utensils of alchemy, and which served no doubt

Starting point is 11:18:36 to protect the archdeacon's face when he was working over some substance to be dreaded, lay in one corner covered with dust and apparently forgotten. Beside it lay a pair of bellows no less dusty, the upper side of which bore this inscription encrusted in copper letters. Spira Spira. Other inscriptions were written in accordance with the fashion of the hermetics, in great numbers on the walls. Some traced with ink, others engraved with.

Starting point is 11:19:06 the metal point. There were, moreover, Gothic letters, Hebrew letters, Greek letters, and Roman letters, Pelmel. The inscriptions overflowed at haphazard, on top of each other, the more recent effacing the more ancient, and all entangled with each other, like the branches in a thicket, like pikes in an affray. It was, in fact, a strangely confused mingling of all human philosophies, all reveries, all human wisdom. Here and there one shone out from the rest like a banner among lance heads. Generally, it was a brief Greek or Roman device, such as the Middle Ages knew so well how to formulate. Undy, Indy, Homohumini Monsterne, Astra Kastra Nomen,

Starting point is 11:19:56 Maya Bibclav Uyazov, Superea Aude, Fiat Ubi Volt, etc. sometimes a word devoid of all apparent use. Avei Zakspaia, which possibly contained a bitter illusion to the regime of the cloister, sometimes a simple maxim of clerical discipline, formulated in a regular hexameter. Coelistem dominum, touristram, d'ecite dominum. There was also Hebrew jargon, of which Jehan, who as yet knew but little Greek, understood nothing, and all words. were traversed in every direction by stars, by figures of men or animals, and by intersecting

Starting point is 11:20:40 triangles. And this contributed not a little to make the scrawled wall of the cell resemble a sheet of paper over which a monkey had drawn back and forth a pen filled with ink. The whole chamber, moreover, presented a general aspect of abandonment and dilapidation, and the bad state of the utensils induced the supposition that their owner had long been distracted from his labors by other preoccupations. Meanwhile, this master, bent over a vast manuscript, ornamented with fantastical illustrations, appeared to be tormented by an idea which incessantly mingled with his meditations. That, at least, was Jehan's idea, when he heard him exclaim, with the thoughtful

Starting point is 11:21:26 breaks of a dreamer thinking aloud. Yes, Manu said it, and Zoroaster taught it. The sun is born from fire and the moon from the sun. Fire is the soul of the universe. Its elementary atoms pour forth and flow incessantly upon the world through infinite channels. At the point where these currents intersect each other in the heavens, they produce light. At their points of intersection on earth, they produce gold. Light, gold.

Starting point is 11:21:59 The same thing. From fire to the concrete stage. The difference between the visible and the palpable, between the fluid and the solid in the same substance, between water and ice, nothing more. These are no dreams. It is the general law of nature. But what is one to do in order to extract from science the secret of this general law? What? This light which inundates my hand is gold. The same atoms dilated in a quarter of with a certain law need only be condensed in accordance with another law. How is it to be done?'

Starting point is 11:22:41 Some have fancied by burying a ray of sunlight. Averroes, yes, tis Averroes buried one under the first pillar on the left of the sanctuary of the Koran, in the great Mohammedan mosque of Cordova. But the vault cannot be opened for the purpose of ascertaining whether the operation has succeeded until after the lapse of eight thousand years. "'The devil,' said Jehan to himself, "'tis a long while to wait for a crown.' "'Others have thought,' continued the dreamy archdeacon,

Starting point is 11:23:19 "'that it would be better worthwhile to operate upon a ray of Sirius, "'but tis exceeding hard to obtain this ray pure "'because of the simultaneous presence of other stars, whose rays mingle with it. Flamel esteemed it more simple to operate upon terrestrial fire. Flamel, there's predestination in the name. Flama. Yes, fire. All lies there. The diamond is contained in the carbon. Gold is in the fire. But how to extract it? Magistri affirms that there are certain feminine names which possess a charm so sweet and mysterious that it suffices to pronounce them during the operation.

Starting point is 11:24:08 Let us read what Manon says on the matter. Where women are honored, the divinities are rejoiced. Where they are despised, it is useless to pray to God. The mouth of a woman is constantly pure. It is a running water. It is a ray of sunlight. The name of a woman should be agreeable, sweet, fanciful. It should end in long vowels and resemble words of benediction.

Starting point is 11:24:39 Yes, the sage is right. In truth, Maria, Sophia, La Esmeral, damnation, always that thought. And he closed the book violently. He passed his hand over his brow, as though to brush away the idea which assailed him. Then he took from the table a nail and a small hammer, whose handle was curiously painted with cabalistic letters. "'For some time,' he said with a bitter smile, "'I have failed in all my experiments. One fixed idea possesses me and sears my brain like fire.

Starting point is 11:25:20 I have not even been able to discover the secret of Cassiodorus, whose lamp burned without wick and without oil. A simple matter, nevertheless. The deuce, muttered Jehan in his beard. Hence, continued the priest, one wretched thought is sufficient to render a man weak and beside himself. Oh, how Claude Pernell would laugh at me! She who could not turn Nicholas Flamele aside for one moment from his pursuit of the great work. What? I hold in my hand the magic hammer of Zashielay, at every blow dealt by the formidable rabbi from the depths of his

Starting point is 11:26:01 cell upon this nail, that one of his enemies whom he had condemned were he a thousand leagues away, was buried a cupid deep in the earth which swallowed him. The king of France himself, in consequence of once having inconsiderately knocked to the door of the thermiturgist, sank to the knees through the pavement of his own Paris. This took place three centuries ago. Well, I possessed the hammer and the nail, and in my hands they are utensils no more formidable than a club in the hands of a maker of edge tools.

Starting point is 11:26:39 And yet all that is required is to find the magic word which Zachelet pronounced when he struck his nail. What nonsense, thought Jehan. Let us see. Let us try, resumed the archdeacon briskly. Were I to succeed, I should behold the blue spark flash from the head of the nail. Amen, etan, amen etan! That's not it.

Starting point is 11:27:08 Sejiani, Sejiani! May this nail open the tomb to anyone who bears the name of Phoebus. A curse upon it, always and eternally the same idea. And he flung away the hammer in a rage. Then he sank down so deeply on the armchair and the table that Jehan lost him from view behind the great pile of manuscripts. For the space of several minutes, all that he saw was his fist convulsively clenched on a book.

Starting point is 11:27:38 Suddenly, Dom Claude sprang up, seized a compass, and engraved in silence upon the wall in capital letters, this Greek word. Anarch. "'My brother is mad,' said Jehan to himself. "'It would have been far more simple to write Thetum. Everyone is not obliged to know Greek.' The archdeacon returned and seated himself in his armchair and placed his head on both his hands as a sick man does,

Starting point is 11:28:07 whose head is heavy and burning. The student watched his brother with surprise. He did not know. He who wore his heart on his sleeve, He who observed only the good old law of nature in the world. He who allowed his passions to follow their inclinations, and in whom the lake of great emotions was always dry, so freely did he let it off each day by fresh drains.

Starting point is 11:28:34 He did not know with what fury the sea of human passions ferments and boils when all egress is denied to it, how it accumulates, how it swells, how it overflows, How it hollows out the heart! How it breaks in inward sobs and dull convulsions, until it has rent its dikes and burst its bed. The austere and glacial envelope of Claude Frollo, that cold surface of steep and inaccessible virtue,

Starting point is 11:29:06 had always deceived Jehan. The merry scholar had never dreamed that there was boiling lava, furious and profound beneath the snowy brow of Etna. We do not know whether he suddenly became conscious of these things, but giddy as he was, he understood that he had seen what he ought not to have seen, that he had just surprised the soul of his elder brother in one of its most secret altitudes, and that Claude must not be allowed to know it. Seeing that the archdeacon had fallen back into his former immobility, he withdrew his head very softly, and made some noise with his feet outside the door,

Starting point is 11:29:45 like a person who has just arrived and is giving warning of his approach. "'Enter!' cried the archdeacon from the interior of his cell. "'I was expecting you. I left the door unlocked expressly. Enter, Master Jacques.' The scholar entered boldly. The archdeacon, who was very much embarrassed by such a visit in such a place, trembled in his armchair. "'What? Tis you, Jehan?' "'Tis a Jha'a. Tis a J. All the same. same," said the scholar, with his ruddy, merry, and audacious face. Dom Claude's visage had resumed its severe expression.

Starting point is 11:30:25 "'What are you come for?' "'Brother,' replied the scholar, making an effort to assume a decent, pitiful, and modest mean, and twirling his cap in his hands with an innocent air. "'I am come to ask of you—' "'What?' "'A little lecture on morality, of which I I stand greatly in need." Jehan did not dare to add aloud, and a little money, of which I am in still greater need.

Starting point is 11:30:57 This last member of his phrase remained unuttered. "'Monsieur,' said the archdeacon in a cold tone, "'I am greatly displeased with you.' "'Halas!' sighed the scholar. Dom Claude made his armchair describe a quarter-circle. and gazed intently at Jehan. "'I am very glad to see you.' This was a formidable exordium.

Starting point is 11:31:24 Jehan braced himself for a rough encounter. "'Johan, complaints are brought me about you every day. What a fray was that in which you bruised with a cudgel a little vicompt, Albert de Romance. "'Oh,' said Jehan, "'a vast thing that!' "'A malicious page amused himself. by splashing the scholars, by making his horse gallop through the mire. Who, pursued the archdeacon, is that Mayet Fargell, whose gown you have torn? Tunicum de Chere virunt saith the complaint.

Starting point is 11:32:04 Ah, bah, a wretched cap of a Montague, isn't that it? The complaint says Tunicum, not capetum. Do you know Latin? Jehan did not reply. "'Yes,' pursued the priest, shaking his head. "'That is the state of learning and letters at the present day. The Latin tongue is hardly understood. Syriac is unknown, Greek so odious,

Starting point is 11:32:32 that tis accounted no ignorance in the most learned to skip a Greek word without reading it, and to say, Goroikum est non-legitur.' The scholar raised his eyes boldly. "'Monsieur, my brother, doth it please you that I shall explain in good French vernacular that Greek word which is written yonder on the wall?' "'What word?'

Starting point is 11:32:55 "'Anark.' A slight flush spread over the cheeks of the priest with their high bones, like the puff of smoke which announces on the outside the secret commotions of a volcano. The student hardly noticed it. "'Well, Jehan,' stammered the ear-hawn,' stammered the elder brother with an effort, what is the meaning of yonder word? Fate. Dom Claude turned pale again, and the scholar pursued carelessly.

Starting point is 11:33:27 And that word below it, graved by the same hand, Avivela signifies impurity. You see that people do know their Greek. And the archdeacon remained silent. The Greek lesson had rendered him thought. thoughtful. Master Jehan, who possessed all the artful ways of a spoiled child, judged that the moment was a favorable one in which to risk his request.

Starting point is 11:33:56 Accordingly, he assumed an extremely soft tone and began, My good brother, do you hate me to such a degree as to look savagely upon me because of a few mischievous cuffs and blows distributed in a fair way to a pack of lads and brats? We bustum marmositas? You see, good brother Claude, that people know their Latin. But all his caressing hypocrisy did not have its usual effect on the severe elder brother. Cerberus did not bite at the honey-cake. The archdeacon's brow did not lose a single wrinkle. "'What are you driving at?' he said dryly. "'Well, in point of fact, this,' replied.

Starting point is 11:34:44 Jehan bravely. I stand in need of money. At this audacious declaration, the Archdeacon's visage assumed a thoroughly pedagogical and paternal expression. You know, Monsieur Jehan, that our fief of Tirchapé, putting the direct taxes and the rents of the nine-and-twenty houses in a block,

Starting point is 11:35:09 yields only nine-and-thirty livres, eleven sous, six deniers, Parisian. It is one half more than in the time of the Brothers Pakklae, but it is not much. "'I need money,' said Jehan stoically. "'You know that the official has decided that our twenty-one houses should be moved full into the fief of the bishopric, and that we could redeem this homage only by paying the reverend bishop two marks of silver gilt of the price of six livers perisee. Now, these two two marks I have not yet been able to get together. You know it. I know that I stand in need of money,

Starting point is 11:35:52 repeated Jehan for the third time. And what are you going to do with it? This question caused a flash of hope to gleam before Jehan's eyes. He resumed his dainty, caressing air. Stay, dear brother Claude. I should not come to you with any evil motive. There is no intention of cutting a dash in the taverns with your own zanes, of strutting about the streets of Paris in a comparison of gold brocade with a lackey comio loquasio. No, brother, tis for a good work. What good work? demanded Claude, somewhat surprised. Two of my friends wished to purchase an outfit for the infant of a poor Audriette

Starting point is 11:36:42 widow. It is a charity. It would cost three forms, and I should like to contribute to it." What are names of your two friends? Pierre Losomier and Baptiste Croquasson. Peter the Slaughterer and Baptist crack-gozzling. "'Hum,' said the Archdeacon, "'those are names as fit for a good work as a catapult for the chief altar.

Starting point is 11:37:14 It is certain that Jehan had made a very bad choice of names for his two friends. He realized it too late. And then, pursued the sagacious clod, "'What sort of an infant's outfit is it that it is to cost three forms, and that for the child of an Audriette? Since when have the Audriette widows taken to having babes in swaddling clothes?' Jehan broke the ice once more. "'Ah, well, yes, I need the money in order to go and see Isabella Thiery to-night,

Starting point is 11:37:49 "'Ide Valde-Mur.' "'Impure wretch!' exclaimed the priest. "'Avivea,' said Jehan. This quotation, which the scholar borrowed with malice perchance from the wall of the cell, produced a singular effect on the archdeacon. He bit his lips and his wrath was drowned in a crimson flush. "'Begone,' he said to Jean. "'I am expecting someone.'

Starting point is 11:38:17 The scholar made one more effort. "'Brother Claude, give me at least one little parisie to buy something to eat.' "'How far have you gone in the decretes of Gratian?' demanded Dom Claude. "'I have lost my copy-books. "'Where are you in your Latin humanities?' My copy of Horace has been stolen. Where are you in Aristotle? If faith, brother, what father of the church is it,

Starting point is 11:38:52 who says that the errors of heretics have always had for their lurking place the tickets of Aristotle's metaphysics? A plague on Aristotle. I care not to tear my religion on his metaphysics. Young man, resumed the archdeacon, At the king's last entry there was a young gentleman named Philippe de Cominet, who wore, embroidered on the housings of his horse, this device, upon which I counsel you to meditate. Quie non-laborat, non-manducet.

Starting point is 11:39:28 The scholar remained silent for a moment, with his finger in his ear, his eyes on the ground, and a discomfort at mean. All at once he turned round to Claude with the agile quickness, of a wag-tail. So, my good brother, you refuse me a sous-parisee, wherewith to buy a crust at a baker's shop? Quay non-laborat, non-mandousset. At this response of the inflexible archdeacon, Jahan hid his head in his hands like a woman sobbing, and exclaimed with an expression of despair, "'O-Ror-Ror-Ror-Ro-Ro-Roy!'

Starting point is 11:40:09 "'What is the meaning of this, sir?' demanded Claude, surprised at this freak. "'What, indeed,' said the scholar, and he lifted to Claude his imputed eyes, into which he had just thrust his fists in order to communicate to them the redness of tears. "'Tis Greek! Tis an anapest of Aeschelis, which expresses grief perfectly!' And here he burst into a laugh so droll and violent that it made the archdeacon's smile. It was Claude's fault, in fact. Why had he spoiled that child? Oh, good brother Claude, resumed Jehan, emboldened by this smile. Look at my worn-out boots. Is there a catherness in the world more tragic than these boots whose souls are hanging out

Starting point is 11:41:02 their tongues? The archdeacon promptly returned to his original severity. I will say, send you some new boots, but no money. "'Only a poor little parisie, brother,' "'continue the suppliant, Jehan. "'I will learn Gratian by heart. "'I will believe firmly in God. "'I would be a regular Pythagoras of science and virtue. "'But one little parisie in mercy.

Starting point is 11:41:30 "'Will you have famine bite me with its jaws "'which are gaping in front of me, "'blacker, deeper, and more noisome than a tartarus, or the nose of a monk? Dom Claude shook his wrinkled head. Queen non-laborat! Shahan did not allow him to finish. Well, he exclaimed,

Starting point is 11:41:52 To the devil then! Long live joy! I will live in the tavern. I will fight. I will break pots, and I will go and see wenches. And thereupon he hurled his cap at the wall and snapped his fingers like castanets.

Starting point is 11:42:07 The archdeacon surveyed him with a gloomy air. "'Jahann, you have no soul.' "'In that case, according to Epicurious, "'I like a something made of another something which has no name.' "'Jahann, you must think seriously of amending your ways.' "'Oh, come now!' cried the student, gazing in turn at his brother and the alembics on the furnace. Everything is preposterous here, both ideas and bottles.

Starting point is 11:42:42 Jehan, you are on a very slippery downward road. Do you know whither you are going? To the wine shop, said Jehan. The wine shop leads to the pillory. Tis as good a lantern as any other, and perchance with that one, Diogenes would have found his man. The pillory leads to the gallows. The gallows is a balance which has a man at one end and the whole earth at the other. Tis fine to be the man.

Starting point is 11:43:14 The gallows leads to hell. Tis a big fire. Jahan, Jahan, the end will be bad. The beginning will have been good. At that moment the sound of a footstep was heard on the staircase. Silence, said the archdeacon, laying his finger. on his mouth. Here is Master Jacques.

Starting point is 11:43:39 Listen, Jehan, he added in a low voice. Have a care never to speak of what you shall have seen or heard here. Hide yourself quickly under the furnace and do not breathe. The scholar concealed himself. Just then, a happy idea occurred to him. By the way, brother Claude, a form for not breathing? Silence! I promise.

Starting point is 11:44:05 You must give it to me. Take it, then," said the archdeacon angrily, flinging his purse at him. Shahan darted under the furnace again and the door opened. End of Book 7, Chapter 4. Book 7, Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Book 7 Chapter 5, The Two Men Clothed in Black. The personage who entered wore a black gown and a gloomy mean.

Starting point is 11:44:53 The first point which struck the eye of Arjan, who, as the reader will readily surmise, had ensconced himself in his nook in such a manner as to enable him to see and hear everything at his good pleasure. Was the perfect sadness of the garments and the visage of this newcomer? There was nevertheless some sweetness diffused over that face, but it was the sweetness of a cat or a judge, an affected treacherous sweetness. He was very gray and wrinkled, and not far from his sixtieth year. His eyes blinked, his eyebrows were white, his lips pendulous, and his hands large.

Starting point is 11:45:34 When Jean saw that it was only this, that is to say, no doubt a physician nor a magistrate, and that this man had a nose very far from his mouth, a sign of stupidity, He nestled down in his hole, in despair at being obliged to pass an indefinite time in such an uncomfortable attitude and in such bad company. The archdeacon, in the meantime, had not even risen to receive this personage. He had made the latter a sign to seat himself on a stool near the door, and after several moments of a silence which appeared to be a continuation of a proceeding meditation, he said to him in a rather patronizing way.

Starting point is 11:46:15 Good day, Master Jacques. Greeting, Master, replied the man in black. There was in the two ways in which Master Jacques was pronounced on the one hand, and the Master by preeminence on the other, the difference between Monseigneur and Monsure, between Domene and Domni.

Starting point is 11:46:37 It was evidently the meeting of a teacher and a disciple. Well, resumed the art. Dekan, after a fresh silence which Master Jacques took good care not to disturb. How are you succeeding? "'Alas, Master,' said the other with a sad smile. "'I am still seeking the stone. Plenty of ashes, but not a spark of gold.' Dom Claude made a gesture of impatience.

Starting point is 11:47:09 "'I am not talking to you of that, Master Jacques Charméieu, but of the trial of your magician. Is it not Mark Senen that you call him the butler of the Court of Accounts? Does he confess his witchcraft? Have you been successful with the torture? Alas, no, replied Master Jacques, still with his sad smile. We have not that consolation. That man is a stone.

Starting point is 11:47:39 We might have him boiled in the Marsha Pursault before he would say anything. Nevertheless, we are sparing. nothing for the sake of getting out the truth. He is already thoroughly dislocated. We are applying all the herbs of St. John's Day. As saith the old comedian Plautus, Advorsum Stimulus, Laminas crukeske-comadescu, Neros, Catinas, Carceris, Numeles, Pedicus, Boyas. Nothing answers. That man is terrible. I am at my wits end over him. "'You have found nothing new in his house?' "'If faith, yes,' said Master Jacques, fumbling in his pouch.

Starting point is 11:48:25 "'This parchment. There are words in it which we cannot comprehend. The criminal advocate, Monsieur Philippe Lollier, nevertheless, knows a little Hebrew, which he learned in that matter of the Jews of the Rue Kentersten at Brussels.' So saying, Master Jacques unrolled a parchment. "'Give it here,' said the Archdeacon, and casting his eyes upon this writing. "'Pure magic, Master Jacques,' he exclaimed. "'Iman, Haitan. It is the cry of the vampires when they arrive at the witch's Sabbath, per Ipsum et cum ipso et inipso. Tis the command which changed the devil in hell!

Starting point is 11:49:09 Axe, Pax, Max, that refers to medicine, a formula against the bite of mad dogs. "'Master Jacques, you are procurator to the king in the ecclesiastical courts. This parchment is abominable. We will put the man to the torture once more.' "'Here again,' added Master Jacques, fumbling afresh in his pouch, "'is something that we have found at Mark Sennan's house.' It was a vessel belonging to the same family as those who covered Dom Claude's furnace. "'Ah,' said the archdeacon,

Starting point is 11:49:44 a crucible for alchemy. I will confess to you, continued Master Jacques, with his timid and awkward smile, that I have tried it over the furnace, but I have succeeded no better than with my own. The archdeacon began an examination of the vessel. What has he engraved on this crucible? Oh, ah!

Starting point is 11:50:08 The word which expels flees, that Mark Sanan is an ignoramus. I verily believe that you will never make gold with this. It is good to set in your bedroom in summer, and that is all. Since we are talking about errors, said the King's procurator, I have just been studying the figures on the portal below before ascending hither. Is your reverence quite sure that the opening of the work of physics is there portrayed on the side towards the Hotel Dyer,

Starting point is 11:50:38 and that among the seven nude figures which stand at the feet of Notre Dame, "'That which has wings on his heels is Mercurius?' "'Yes,' replied the priest. "'Tis Augustin Niffo who writes it. "'That Italian doctor who had a bearded demon "'who acquainted him with all things. "'However, we will descend, "'and I will explain it to you with the text before us.'

Starting point is 11:51:03 "'Thanks, Master,' said Charmeloo, bowing to the earth. "'By the way, I was on the point of forgetting, "'when doth it please you that I shall, apprehend the little sorceress? What sorceress? That gypsy girl, you know, who comes every day to dance on the church square, in spite of the official's prohibition. She hath a demoniac goat with horns of the devil, which reads, which writes,

Starting point is 11:51:32 which knows mathematics like piquotrics, and which would suffice to hang all bohemia. The prosecution is all ready, to soon be finished, I assure you, A pretty creature on my soul, that dancer. The handsomest black eyes. Two Egyptian carbuncles. When shall we begin? The Archdeacon was excessively pale. I will tell you that hereafter, he stammered, in a voice that was barely articulate.

Starting point is 11:52:02 Then he resumed with an effort. Busy yourself with Mark Sennane. Be at ease, said Charmémy Lou with a smile. I'll buckle his. down again for you on the leather bed when I get home. But tis a devil of a man. He wearies even Periat Torturu himself, who hath hands larger than my own. As that good plautus saith, Nudus victus centum pando, es quandopendis, perpides. The torture of the wheel and axle, tis the most effectual, he shall taste it. Dom Claude seemed absorbed in gloomy abstraction. He turned

Starting point is 11:52:42 to Shermolu. Master Pirat, Mr. Jacques, I mean, busy yourself with Mark Sinane. Yes, yes, Dom Claude. Poor man. He will have suffered like Mammaul. What an idea to go to the witch's sabbath.

Starting point is 11:52:59 A butler of the court of accounts who ought to know Charlemagne's text, Striga Valmassia. In the matter of the little girl, Smilardas, they call her, I will await your orders. Ah, as we pass through the portal, you will explain to me also the meaning of the gardener painted in relief, which one sees as one enters the church.

Starting point is 11:53:21 Is it not the sower? Hey, master, of what are you thinking, pray? Dom Claude, buried in his own thoughts, no longer listen to him. Charmeloo, following the direction of his glance, perceived that it was fixed mechanically on the great spider's web, which draped the window. At that moment, a bewildered fly which was seeking the Mart's sun flung itself through the net and became entangled there. On the agitation of his web, the enormous spider made an abrupt move from his central cell,

Starting point is 11:53:54 then, with one bound, rushed upon the fly, which he folded together with his four antenna, while his hideous, probosciscus dug into the victim's head. "'Poor fly!' said the king's procurator in the ecclesiastical court, and he raised his hand to save it. The archdeacon, as though roused with a start, withheld his arm with convulsive violence. Master Jacques, he cried, let fate take its course. The procurator wheeled round in affright. It seemed to him that pincers of iron had clutched his arm. The priest's eye was staring, wild, flaming, and remained riveted on the horrible

Starting point is 11:54:35 little group of the spider and the fly. "'Oh, yes,' continued the priest, in a voice which seemed to proceed from the deaths of his being. "'Behold here, a symbol of all. She flies. She is joyous. She is just born. She seeks the spring, the open air, liberty. Oh, yes, but let her come in contact with the fatal network, and the spider issues from it, the hideous spider. Poor dancer! Poor predestance! fly. Let things take their course, Master Jacques. Tis fate. Alas! Claude, thou art the spider. Claude, thou art the fly also. Thou wert flying towards learning, light, the sun. Thou hast no other care than to reach the open air, the full daylight of eternal truth. But in precipitating thyself towards the dazzling

Starting point is 11:55:33 window which opens upon the other world, upon the world of brightness, intelligence and science, Blind fly, senseless, learned man. Thou hast not perceived that subtle spider's web, stretched by destiny, betwixt the light and thee. Thou hast flung thyself headlong into it, and now thou art struggling with head-broken and mangled wings between the iron antennae of fate. Master Jacques! Master Jacques! Let the spider work its will! I assure you, said Charmolu, who was gazing at him without comprehensive. apprehending him, that I will not touch it. But release my arm, master, for pity's sake, you have

Starting point is 11:56:15 a hand like a pair of pincers.' The archdeacon did not hear him. "'Oh, madman!' he went on, without removing his gaze from the window. And even couldst thou have broken through that formidable web, with thy gnat's wings, thou believest that thou couldst have reached the light? Alas! That pain of glass which is further on, that transparent obstacle, that wall of crystal, harder than brass, which separates all philosophies from the truth, how wouldst thou have overcome it? Oh, vanity of science! How many wise men come flying from afar to dash their heads against thee!

Starting point is 11:57:00 How many systems vainly fling themselves buzzing against that eternal pain! He became silent. These last ideas, which had gradually led him back from himself to science, appeared to have calmed him. Jacques Charmeloo recalled him wholly to a sense of reality by addressing to him this question. "'Come, now, Master, when will you come to aid me in making gold? I am impatient to succeed!' The Archdeacon shook his head with a bitter smile.

Starting point is 11:57:36 "'Master Jacques, read Michel. Salus, Diuligos di Energia et Apprecione de monum. What we are doing is not wholly innocent. Speak lower, master. I have my suspicions of it, said Jacques Charmolu. But one must practice a bit of hermetic science when one is only procurator of the king in the ecclesiastical court at thirty crowns to noir a year.

Starting point is 11:58:05 Only speak low. At that moment the sound of jaws in the act of mastication, which proceeded from beneath the surface, struck Charmolu's uneasy ear. "'What's that?' he inquired. It was the scholar, who, ill at ease and greatly bored in his hiding-place, had succeeded in discovering there a stale crust and a triangle of mouldy cheese, and had set to devouring the whole without ceremony, by way of consolation. and breakfast. As he was very hungry, he had made a great deal of noise, and he accented each

Starting point is 11:58:43 mouthful strongly, which startled and alarmed the procurator. "'Tis a cat of mine,' said the archdeacon quickly, who is regaling herself under there with a mouse. This explanation satisfied Charmeloou. "'In fact, Master,' he replied, with a respectful smile, All great philosophers have their familiar animal. You know what Servius saith. Nullus enum locus sineginio est, Where there is no place that hath not its spirit. But Dom Claude, who stood in terror of some new freak on the part of Jean,

Starting point is 11:59:25 reminded his worthy disciple that they had some figures on the façade to study together, and the two quitted the cell, to the accompaniment of a great U.S. from the scholar, who began to seriously fear that his knee would acquire the imprint of his chin. End of Book 7, Chapter 5. Book 7, Chapter 6 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 7, Chapter 6. The effect which seven oaths in the open air can produce. "'Tedium laudemus!' exclaimed Master Jean, creeping out from his hole.

Starting point is 12:00:17 "'The screech-owls have departed! "'Ach! Ach! Pax! Max! Fleeves! Mad dogs! The devil! I have had enough of their conversation. My head is humming like a bell-tower, and mouldy cheese to boot. Come on! Let us descend! Take the Big Brother's purse, and convert all these coins into bottles. He cast a glance of tenderness and admiration into the interior of the precious pouch, readjusted his toilet, rubbed up his boots, dusted his poor half-sleeves, all gray with ashes, whistled an air, indulged in a sportive pirouette, looked about to see whether there were not something more in the cell to take, gathered up here and there on the furnace

Starting point is 12:01:06 some amulet in glass, which might serve to bestow in the guise of a trinket on Isabou la Tiaree, finally pushed open the door which his brother had left unfastened as a last indulgence, and which he, in his turn, left open as a last piece of malice, and descended the circular staircase, skipping like a bird. In the midst of the gloom of the spiral staircase, he elbowed something which drew aside with a growl, He took it for granted that it was Quasimodo, and it struck him so droll that he descended the remainder of the staircase holding his sides with laughter. On emerging upon the place, he laughed yet more heartily.

Starting point is 12:01:51 He stamped his foot when he found himself on the ground once again. "'Oh,' said he, "'good and honorable pavement of Paris, cursed staircase, fit to put the angels of Jacob's ladder out of breath. What was I thinking of to thrust myself into that stone gimlet which pierces the sky? All for the sake of eating bearded cheese, and looking at the bell-towers of Paris through a hole in the wall. He advanced a few paces, and caught sight of the two screech-owls, that is to say, Dom Claude and Master Jacques Charmolu, absorbed in contemplation before carving on the façade. He approached them on tiptoe, and heard the archdeacon say in a low tone to Charmolu,

Starting point is 12:02:39 "'Twas Gaillom de Paris who caused a Job to be carved upon this stone of the hue of lapis lazuli, gilded on the edges. Job represents the philosopher's stone, which must also be tried and martyised in order to become perfect, as saith Raymond Lullet. Subconservatione Formoes, Pacifico, Sassifito, Saly. Alva Anima." That makes no difference to me, said Jean. Tis I who have the purse." At that moment he heard a powerful and sonorous voice articulate behind him a formidable

Starting point is 12:03:17 series of oaths. "'Sang Dieu! Ventre, Dieu, bed-die-die-die-die-dieu, Cope de Dieu, nom brille de Berseboot, nom du M. Dome dupeii at tonneur. My soul!" exclaimed Jean. That can only be my friend, Captain Phoebus! This name of Phoebus reached the ears of the archdeacon, at the moment when he was explaining

Starting point is 12:03:43 to the king's procurator, the dragon which is hiding its tail in a bath, from which issues smoke and the head of a king. Dom Claude started, interrupted himself, and, to the great amazement of Charmelo, turned round and beheld his brother, Jean, accosting a tall officer, at the door of the gondolier mansion. It was, in fact, Captain Femus de Chateaupe. He was backed up against a corner of the house of his betrothed and swearing like a heathen.

Starting point is 12:04:15 "'By my faith, Captain Fibis,' said Jean, taking him by the hand, "'you are cursing with admirable vigor.' "'Horns and thunder!' replied the captain. "'Horns and thunder yourself,' replied the student. "'Come now, fair captain. Whence comes this overflow of fine words?" "'Pardon me, good comrade Jean,' exclaimed Phoebus, shaking his hand. "'A horse going at a gallop cannot halt short.

Starting point is 12:04:45 Now I was swearing at a hard gallop. I have just been with those prudes, and when I come forth I always find my throat full of curses. I must spit them out or strangle. Ventre at Tonner. "'Will you come and drink?' asked the scholar. This proposition calmed the captain. "'I'm willing, but I have no money.'

Starting point is 12:05:10 "'But I have.' "'Bah! Let's see it!' Jean spread out the purse before the captain's eyes, with dignity and simplicity. Meanwhile, the archdeacon, who had abandoned the dumbfounded Charmolu where he stood, had approached them and halted a few paces distant, watching, them without their noticing him, so deeply were they absorbed in contemplation of the purse. Phoebus exclaimed, "'A purse in your pocket, John! Tis the moon in a bucket of water! One sees it there,

Starting point is 12:05:44 but tis not there. There's nothing but its shadow. Pardieu, let us wager that these are pebbles.' Jean replied coldly, "'Here are the pebbles wherewith I pave my fob. And without adding another, other word, he emptied the purse on a neighboring post with the air of a Roman saving his country. "'True God!' muttered Phoebus. Targes! Big blanks, little blanks, Maya! Every two worth one of our tournay! Farthings of Paris! Real Eagle Liyards! Tis dazzling! Jean remained dignified and immovable. Several yards had rolled into the mud. The captain, in his enthusiasm stooped to pick them up.

Starting point is 12:06:32 Jean restrained him. Faye, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupe. Phoe! Fibus counted the coins, and turning towards Jean with solemnity. Do you know, Jean, that there are three-and-twenty sous-parisee? Whom have you plundered to-night, in the street cut wezzan? Jean flung back his blonde and curly head, and said, half-closing his eyes disdainfully, We have a brother who is an archdeacon and a fool." "'Corned Dieu!' exclaimed Phoebus.

Starting point is 12:07:06 "'The worthy man!' "'Let us go and drink,' said Jean. "'Where shall we go?' said Phoebus. "'To Eve's apple?' "'No, Captain, to ancient science. An old woman sawing a basket-handle, tis a rebus, and I like that.' "'A plague on Rebus is, Jean. the wine is better at Eve's apple, and then, beside the door, there is a vine in the sun

Starting point is 12:07:32 which cheers me while I am drinking. Well, here goes for Eve and her apple, said the student, and taking Phoebus's arm. By the way, my dear Captain, you just mentioned the rue Coup Goulet. That is a very bad form of speech. People are no longer so barbarous. They say Coup Gorge. The two friends set out towards Eve's apple. It is unnecessary to mention that they had first gathered up the money, and that the

Starting point is 12:08:03 archdeacon followed them. The archdeacon followed them, gloomy and haggard. Was this the Phoebus, whose accursed name had been mingled with all his thoughts ever since his interview with Gringua? He did not know it, but it was at least a Phoebus, and that magic name sufficed to make the archdeacon follow the two heedous comrades with the two. the stealthy tread of a wolf, listening to their words and observing their slightest gestures with anxious attention. Moreover, nothing was easier than to hear everything they said as they talked

Starting point is 12:08:36 loudly, not in the least concern that the passers-by were taken into their confidence. They talked of duels, wenches, wine-pots, and folly. At the turning of a street, the sound of a tambourine reached them from a neighboring square. Dom Claude heard the officer say to the scum Scholar. "'Thunder! Let us hasten our steps.' "'Why, Phoebus? I'm afraid lest the Bohemian should see me.'

Starting point is 12:09:03 "'What, Bohemian? The little girl with a goat. "'Lasmeralda? That's it, John. I always forget her devil of a name. Let us make haste. She will recognize me. I don't want to have that girl accost me in the street.'

Starting point is 12:09:19 "'Do you know her, Phoebus?' Here the archdeacon saw Phoebus sneer, bend down to Jean's ear and say a few words to him in a low voice. Then Phoebus burst into a laugh and shook his head with a triumphant air. "'Truly?' said Jean. "'Upon my soul,' said Phoebus. "'This evening? This evening.

Starting point is 12:09:45 Are you sure that she will come? Are you a fool, Jean? Does one doubt such things?' Captain Phoebus, you are a happy gendarme. The archdeacon heard the whole of this conversation. His teeth chattered. A visible shiver ran through his whole body. He halted for a moment, leaned against a post like a drunken man,

Starting point is 12:10:09 then followed the two merry knaves. At the moment when he overtook them once more, they had changed their conversation. He heard them singing at the top of their lungs, the ancient refrain, The infante Petit Chiro Se fond Pondre Corme de Vos The children of the Petit Carot let themselves be hung

Starting point is 12:10:32 Like calves End of Book 7 Chapter 6 Book 7 Chapter 7 of the hunchback of Notre Dame By Victor Hugo This Librevox recording is in the public domain Book 7 Chapter 7 The Mysterious Monk The illustrious wine shop of Eve's apple was situated in the university, at the corner of the Rue de la Rondelle and the Rue de la Botanier. It was a very spacious and very low hail on the ground

Starting point is 12:11:12 floor, with a vaulted ceiling whose central spring rested upon a huge pillar of wood, painted yellow. Tables everywhere. Shining pewter jugs hand. hanging on the walls, always a large number of drinkers, a plenty of wenches, a window on the street, a vine at the door, and over the door a flaring piece of sheet-iron, painted with an apple and a woman, rusted by the rain and turning with the wind on an iron pin. This species of weather-vane which looked upon the pavement was the signboard. Night was falling. The square was dark. The wine-shop, full of candles, flamed a full of fire. far like a forge in the gloom. The noise of glasses and feasting, of oaths and quarrels,

Starting point is 12:11:58 which escaped through the broken pains, was audible. Through the mist which the warmth of the room spread over the window in front, a hundred confused figures could be seen swarming, and from time to time a burst of noisy laughter broke forth from it. The passers-by, who were going about their business, slipped past this tumultuous window without glancing. at it. Only at intervals did some little ragged boy raise himself on tiptoe as far as the ledge, and hurl into the drinking-shop, that ancient jeering-hout, with which drunken men were then pursued, "'Aul! Saul! Saul! Saul! Nevertheless, one man paced imperturbably back and forth in front of the tavern, gazing at it incessantly, and going no further from a-o'-soult.

Starting point is 12:12:52 than a pikeman from his sentry-box. He was enveloped in a mantle to his very nose. This mantle he had just purchased of the old clothesman in the vicinity of the Eve's apple, no doubt to protect himself from the cold of the March evening, possibly also to conceal his costume. From time to time he paused in front of the dim window with its leaden lattice, listened, looked, and stamped his foot.

Starting point is 12:13:20 At length the door of the dram-shy shoped. opened. This was what he appeared to be waiting for. Two Boone companions came forth. The ray of light which escaped from the door crimsoned for a moment their jovial faces. The man in the mantle went and stationed himself on the watch under a porch on the other side of the street. "'Come at Tonner,' said one of the comrades. "'Seven o'clock is on the point of striking. Tis the hour of my appointed meeting. I tell you, repeated his companion with a thick tongue, that I don't live in the rue de Mave parolet,

Starting point is 12:14:01 indignus qui inter malavurba habitat. I have a lodging in the rue Jean-Pan-Mollet, invico Johannes Pan-Mollet. You are more horned than a unicorn if you assert the contrary. Everyone knows that he who once mounts astride a bear, is never after afraid. But you have a nose turned to dainties like Sat Jacques of the hospital. "'Jean, my friend, you are drunk,' said the other.

Starting point is 12:14:34 The other replied, staggering, "'it pleases you to say so, Phoebeus, but it hath been proved that Plato had the profile of a hound.' The reader has no doubt already recognized our two brave friends, the captain and the scholar. It appears that the man who was lying in wait for them had also recognized them, for he slowly followed all the zigzags

Starting point is 12:14:59 that the scholar caused the captain to make, who, being a more hardened drinker, had retained all his self-possession. By listening to them attentively, the man in the mantle could catch in its entirety the following interesting conversation. "'Corback, quay. Do try to walk straight, Master Bachelor,

Starting point is 12:15:19 you know that I must leave you. Here it is seven o'clock. I have an appointment with a woman. Leave me then. I see stars and lances of fire. You are like the Chateau de d'artin, which is bursting with laughter. By the warts of my grandmother, Jean, you are raving with too much rabidness. By the way, John, have you any money left? Monsieur Rector, there is no mistake. The little butcher shop, Parvabucheria. John, my friend John, you know that I made an appointment with that little girl at the end of Pointe St. Michel, and I can only take her to the Falordeadels, the old crone of the bridge,

Starting point is 12:16:10 and that I must pay for a chamber. The old witch with a white mustache would not trust me. "'Jean, for pity's sake, have we drunk up the whole of the Curay's purse? "'Have you not a single parricie left?' "'The consciousness of having spent the other hours well "'is a just and savory condiment for the table. "'Belly and guts, a truce to your whimsical nonsense. "'Tell me, Jean of the devil, have you any money left?

Starting point is 12:16:43 "'Give it to me, bet Dieu, or I will search. you, were you as leprous as Job and as scabby as Caesar? Monsieur, the rue Galliash is a street which hath at one end the rue de la Verreary, and at the other the rue de la Tixironderry. Well, yes, my good Franjean, my poor comrade, the rue galliash is good, very good, but in the name of heaven, collect your wits. must have a sous parisie, and the appointment is for seven o'clock. Silence for the rondo, and attention to the refrain.

Starting point is 12:17:28 Quan the rats mangaron lecas, le wa sarah, seor daras, when the mare who is grandaday, serrales sanguangeli, on ver a pair de su la glass, Sautier saddaraas, de lour, place. Well, scholar of Antichrist, may you be strangled with the entrails of your mother,

Starting point is 12:17:55 exclaimed Phoebus, and he gave the drunken scholar a rough push. The latter slipped against the wall and slid flabbily to the pavement of Philippe Augustus. A remnant of fraternal pity, which never abandons the heart of a drinker, prompted Phoebus to Rojean with his foot upon one of those pillows of the poor, which Providence keeps in readiness at the corner of all the street posts of Paris, and which the rich blight with the name of a rubbish heap. The captain adjusted Jean's head upon an inclined plain of cabbage stumps, and on the very instant the scholar fell to snoring in a magnificent base.

Starting point is 12:18:34 Meanwhile, all malice was not extinguished in the captain's heart. "'So much the worse if the devil's cart picks you up on its passage!' he said to the the poor sleeping clerk, and he strode off. The man in the mantle, who had not ceased to follow him, halted for a moment before the prostrate scholar, as though agitated by indecision. Then, uttering a profound sigh, he also strode off in pursuit of the captain.

Starting point is 12:19:05 We, like them, will leave Jean to slumber beneath the open sky, and will follow them also, if it pleases the reader. On emerging into the Rue Saint-Andre d'Arc, Captain Phoebus perceived that someone was following him. On glancing sideways by chance, he perceived a sort of shadow crawling after him along the walls. He halted, it halted. He resumed his march, it resumed its march. This disturbed him not over much. "'Ah, bah!' he said to himself,

Starting point is 12:19:40 "'I have not a sou!' He paused in front of the Collège d'Aton. It was at this college that he had sketched out what he called his studies, and, through a scholar's teasing habit which still lingered in him, he never passed the façade without inflicting on the statue of Cardinal Pierre Bertrand, sculpture to the right of the portal, the affront of which Priapus complained so bitterly in the satire of Horace. Olim Trunkus

Starting point is 12:20:10 Iram, Fikunus. He had done this with so much unrelenting animosity that the inscription, Adoensis, Episcopus, had become almost defaced. Therefore, he halted before the statue according to his want.

Starting point is 12:20:27 The street was utterly deserted. At the moment when he was coolly retying his shoulder-knots, with his nose in the air, he saw the shadow approaching him with slow steps, so slow that he had ample time to observed that this shadow wore a cloak and a hat. On arriving near him, it halted and remained

Starting point is 12:20:47 more motionless than the statue of Cardinal Bertrand. Meanwhile, it riveted upon Phoebus two intent eyes, full of that vague light which issues in the night-time from the pupils of a cat. The captain was brave, and would have cared very little for a highwayman, with a rapier in his hand. But this walking statue, this petrified man, froze his blood. There were then in circulation strange stories of a surly monk, a nocturnal prowler about the streets of Paris, and they recurred confusedly to his memory. He remained for several minutes in stupefaction,

Starting point is 12:21:28 and finally broke the silence with a forced laugh. Monsieur, if you are a robber, as I hope you are, you produce upon me the effect of a heron attacking a nutshell. I am the son of a ruined family, my dear fellow. Try your hand nearby here. In the chapel of this college there is some wood of the true cross set in silver. The hand of the shadow emerged from beneath its mantle and descended upon the arm of Phoebus with the grip of an eagle's talon.

Starting point is 12:22:04 At the same time the shadow spoke. Captain Phoebus the Chantope. What the devil, said Phoebus, you know my name. I know not your name alone, continued the man in the mantle with his sepulchral voice. You have a rendezvous this evening. Yes, replied Phoebus in amazement. At seven o'clock. In a quarter of an hour.

Starting point is 12:22:35 At La Follordel's. Precisely, the lewd hague of the Pont Saint-Michel. Of St. Michel, the archangel, as the paternoster saith. Impious wretch, muttered the specter, with a woman. Confeture, I confess. Who is called? La Smaralda, said Phoebus gaily. All his heedlessness had gradually returned.

Starting point is 12:23:07 At this name the Shadow's grasp shook the arm of Phoebus in a fury. Captain Phoebus de Chateaupey, thou liest! Anyone who could have beheld at that moment the captain's inflamed countenance, his leap backwards, so violent that he disengaged himself from the grip which held him, the proud air with which he clapped his hand on his sword-hilt, and, in the presence of this wrath the gloomy immobility of the man in the cloak. Anyone who could have beheld this would have been frightened. There was in it a touch of the combat of Don Juan and the statue. "'Christ and Satan!' exclaimed the captain.

Starting point is 12:23:50 "'That is a word which rarely strikes the ear of a Chateaupe. Thou wilt not dare repeat it.' "'Thou liest,' said the shadow coldly. The captain gnashed his teeth. Surly monk, phantom, superstitions. He had forgotten all at that moment. He no longer beheld anything but a man and an insult. Ah, this is well, he stammered in a voice stifled with rage. He drew his sword, then stammering, for anger as well as fear makes a man tremble.

Starting point is 12:24:29 Here, on this spot! Come on! swords, swords, blood on the pavement. But the other never stirred. When he beheld his adversary on guard and ready to parry, Captain Phoebus, he said, and his tone vibrated with bitterness, You forget your appointment. The rages of men like Phoebus are milk soups,

Starting point is 12:24:56 whose abolition is calmed by a drop of cold water. This simple remark caused the sword which glittered in the captain's hand to be lowered. Captain, pursued the man. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, a month hence, ten years hence, you will find me ready to cut your throat. But go first to your rendezvous. In sooth, said Phoebus, as though seeking to capitulate with himself, These are two charming things to be encountered in a rendezvous, a sword and a winch,

Starting point is 12:25:37 but I do not see why I should miss the one for the sake of the other, when I can have both. He replaced his sword in its scabbard. Go to your rendezvous, said the man. Monsieur, replied Phoebus with some embarrassment, many thanks for your courtesy. In fact, there will be ample time tomorrow for us to chop up Father Adams' doublet into slashes and buttonholes. I am obliged to you for allowing me to pass one more agreeable quarter of an hour.

Starting point is 12:26:13 I certainly did hope to put you in the gutter, and still arrive in time for the fair one, especially, as it has a better appearance to make the women wait a little in such cases. But you strike me as having the air of a gallant man. and it is safe to defer our affair until tomorrow. So I will betake myself to my rendezvous. It is for seven o'clock, as you know. Here Phoebe scratched his ear. Ah, comidou, I had forgotten.

Starting point is 12:26:47 I haven't a suit to discharge the price of the garret, and the old crone will insist on being paid in advance. She distrusts me. "'Here is the wherewithal to pay.' "'Foebus felt the stranger's cold hands "'slip into his a large piece of money. "'He could not refrain from taking the money "'and pressing the hand.

Starting point is 12:27:11 "'Fred due!' he exclaimed. "'You are a good fellow!' "'One condition,' said the man. "'Prove to me that I have been wrong "'and that you are speaking the truth. "'Hide me in some corner whence I can see whether this woman is really the one whose name you uttered. Oh, replied Phoebus, tis all won to me. We will take the sat-marte-chamber.

Starting point is 12:27:38 You can look at your ease from the kennel hard by. Come then, said the shadow. At your service, said the captain. I know not whether you are Messer, Diabolus, in person, but let us be good friends for this evening. Tomorrow I will repay you all my debts, both of purse and sword. They set out again at a rapid pace. At the expiration of a few minutes, the sound of the river announced to them that they were on the Pont-San-Michel, then loaded with houses. "'I will first show you the way,' said Phoebus to his companion.

Starting point is 12:28:20 "'I will then go in search of the fair one who is awaiting me near the Pente Chateaule. He said. His companion made no reply. He had not uttered a word since they had been walking side by side. Phoebus halted before a low door and knocked roughly. A light made its appearance through the cracks of the door. "'Who is there?' cried a toothless voice. "'Corpe dieu!

Starting point is 12:28:48 Taddie du, ventre d'ieu,' replied the captain. The door opened instantly and allowed the newcomers to see an old woman and an old lamp, both of which trembled. The old woman was bent double, clad in tatters, with a shaking head, pierced with two small eyes, and quaffed with a dish-clout, wrinkled everywhere, on hands and face and neck. Her lips retreated under her gums, and about her mouth she had tufts of white hairs, which gave her the whiskered look of a cat. The interior of the den was no less dilapidated than she. There were chalk walls, blackened beams in the ceiling,

Starting point is 12:29:31 a dismantled chimney-piece, spiders webs in all the corners, and in the middle a staggering herd of tables and lame stools, a dirty child among the ashes, and at the back a staircase, or rather a wooden ladder, which ended in a trap-door in the ceiling. On entering this lair, Phoebus' mysterious comming, companion raised his mantle to his very eyes. Meanwhile, the captain, swearing like a Saracen, hastened to, make the sun shine in a crown, as saith our admirable Ragné.

Starting point is 12:30:06 The St. Marte Chamber, said he. The old woman addressed him as Monseigneur, and shut up the crown in a drawer. It was the coin which the man in the black mantle had given to Phoebus. While her back was turned, the bushy-headed and ragged little boy who was playing in the ashes, adroitly approached the drawer, abstracted the crown, and put in its place a dry leaf which he had plucked from a faggot. The old crone made a sign to the two gentlemen, as she called them, to follow her, and mounted the ladder in advance of them. On arriving at the upper story, she set her lamp on a coffer, and Phoebus, like a frequent visitor of the house, opened a door which opened on a dark hole.

Starting point is 12:30:53 "'Enter here, my dear fellow,' he said to his companion. The man in the mantle obeyed without a word in reply. The door closed upon him. He heard Phoebus bolt it, and a moment later descend the stairs again with the aged hag. The light had disappeared. End of Book 7 Chapter 7. Book 7 Chapter 8 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 7 Chapter 8.

Starting point is 12:31:34 The utility of windows which open on the river. Claude Frollo, for we presume that the reader, more intelligent than Phoebus, as seen in this whole adventure no other surly monk than the archerable. Deacon, Claude Frollo groped about for several moments in the dark layer into which the captain had bolted him. It was one of those nooks which architects sometimes reserve at the point of junction between the roof and the supporting wall. A vertical section of this kennel, as Phoebus had so justly styled it, would have made a triangle. Moreover, there was neither window nor air-hole, and the slope of the roof prevented one from standing upright. Accordingly, Claude crouched down in the dust and the plaster

Starting point is 12:32:22 which creaked beneath him. His head was on fire, rummaging around him with his hands, he found on the floor a bit of broken glass which he pressed to his brow, and whose coolness afforded him some relief. What was taking place at that moment in the gloomy soul of the archdeacon God and himself could alone know. In what order was he arranging in his mind, La Esmoralda, Phoebus, Jacques Charmeloou, his young brother so beloved, yet abandoned by him in the mire, his archdeacon's cassock,

Starting point is 12:32:58 his reputation perhaps dragged to La Flauerdels, all these adventures, all these images, I cannot say. But it is certain that these ideas formed in his mind, a horrible group. He had been waiting a quarter of an hour. It seemed to him that he had grown a century older. All at once he heard the creaking of the boards of the stairway.

Starting point is 12:33:23 Someone was ascending. The trap-door opened once more. A light reappeared. There was a tolerably large crack in the worm-eaten door of his den. He put his face to it. In this manner he could see all that went on in the adjoining room. The cat-faced old crone was the first to emerge from the trap-door, lamp in hand. Then Phoebus, twirling his mustache.

Starting point is 12:33:49 Then a third person, that beautiful and graceful figure, La Esmeralda. The priest beheld her rise from below like a dazzling apparition. Claude trembled, a cloud spread over his eyes, his pulses beat violently, everything rustled and whirled around him. He no longer saw nor heard anything. When he recovered himself, Fibus and Esmeralda were alone seated on the wooden coffer, beside the lamp which made these two youthful figures and a miserable pallet at the end of the attic stand out plainly before the archdeacon's eyes.

Starting point is 12:34:30 Beside the pallet was a window, whose pains, broken like a spider's web upon which rain has fallen, allowed a view through its rent meshes of a corner of the sky, and the moon lying far away on an eider-down bed of soft clouds. The young girl was blushing, confused, palpitating. Her long, drooping lashes shaded her crimson cheeks. The officer, to whom she dared not lift her eyes, was radiant. Mechanically, and with a charmingly unconscious gesture, she traced with the tip of her finger incoherent lines on the bench, and watched her finger. Her foot was not visible. The little

Starting point is 12:35:13 goat was nestling upon it. The captain was very gallantly clad. He had tufts of embroidery at his neck and wrists, a great elegance at that day. It was not without difficulty that Dom Claude managed to hear what they were saying, through the humming of the blood which was boiling in his temples. A conversation between lovers is a very commonplace affair. It is a perpetual, I love you, a musical phrase which is very insipid and very bald for indifferent listeners, when it is not ornamented with some feuratory, but Claude was not an indifferent listener.

Starting point is 12:35:53 Oh, said the young girl, without raising her eyes, Do not despise me, Monseigneur Phoebus. I feel that what I am doing is not right. Despise you, my pretty child, replied the officer with an air of superior and distinguished gallantry. Despise you. Te dee, and why? For having followed you. On that point, my beauty, we don't agree.

Starting point is 12:36:21 I ought not to despise you, but to hate you. The young girl looked at him in a fright. Hate me? What have I done? for having required so much urging. Alas, said she, tis because I am breaking a vow. I shall not find my parents. The amulet will lose its virtue.

Starting point is 12:36:43 But what matters it? What need have I a father or mother now? So saying, she fixed upon the captain her great black eyes, moist with joy and tenderness. Devil, take me if I understand you, exclaimed. named Phoebus. La Esmeralda remained silent for a moment, then a tear dropped from her eyes, a sigh from her lips, and she said, "'Oh, Monseigneur, I love you!' Such a perfume of chastity, such a charm of virtue surrounded the young girl,

Starting point is 12:37:18 that Phoebus did not feel completely at his ease beside her. But this remark emboldened him. "'You love me,' he said with rapture, he threw his arm round the gypsy's waist. He had only been waiting for this opportunity. The priest saw it, and tested with the tip of his finger the point of a poniard which he wore concealed in his breast. Fibis, continued the Bohemian, gently releasing her waist from the captain's tenacious hands. You are good, you are generous, you are handsome. You saved me, me, who am only a poor child lost in Bohemia. I had long been dreaming of an officer who should save my life.

Starting point is 12:38:06 Twas of you that I was dreaming, before I knew you, my Phoebus. The officer of my dream had a beautiful uniform like yours, a grand look, a sword. Your name is Phoebus. Tis a beautiful name. I love your name. I love your sword. "'Draw your sword, Phoebus, that I may see it.' "'Child!' said the captain, and he unsheathed his sword with a smile.

Starting point is 12:38:33 The gypsy looked at the hilt, the blade, examined the cipher on the guard with adorable curiosity, and kissed the sword, saying, "'You are the sword of a brave man. I love my captain.' Phoebus again profited by the opportunity to impress upon her beautiful bent neck a kiss, which made the young girl straighten herself up as scarlet as a poppy. The priest gnashed his teeth over it in the dark. Phoebus, resumed the gypsy. Let me talk to you. Pray walk a little, that I may see you at full height,

Starting point is 12:39:10 that I may hear your spurs jingle. How handsome you are! The captain rose to please her, shiting her with a smile of satisfaction. What a child you are! By the way, my charmer, have you seen me in my archer's ceremonial doublet? Alas, no, she replied, it is very handsome. Phoebus returned and seated himself beside her, but much closer than before.

Starting point is 12:39:40 Listen, my dear. The gypsy gave him several little taps with her pretty hand on his mouth, with a childish mirth and grace and gaiety. No, no, I will not listen to you. Do you love me? I want you to tell me whether you love me." "'Do I love thee, angel of my life?' exclaimed the captain, half-nealing. "'My body, my blood, my soul, all are thine. All are for thee. I love thee, and I have never loved anyone but thee.' The captain had repeated this phrase so many times, in many similar conjectures, that he delivered it all in one breath, without committing a single mistake.

Starting point is 12:40:27 At this passionate declaration, the gypsy raised to the dirty ceiling which served for the skies a glance full of angelic happiness. Oh, she murmured, this is the moment when one should die. Phoebus found the moment favorable for robbing her of another kiss, which went to torture the unhappy archdeacon in his nook. "'Die!' exclaimed the amorous captain. "'What are you saying, my lovely angel? "'Tis a time for living! Or Jupiter is only a scamp!

Starting point is 12:41:03 Die at the beginning of so sweet a thing! Cornet de Beau! What a jest! It is not that!' "'Listen, my dear Similar, Esminarda! Pardon! You have so prodigiously Saracen a name that I never can get it straight. Tis a thicket which stops me short. Good heavens, said the poor girl, and I thought my name pretty because of its singularity,

Starting point is 12:41:31 but since it displeases you, I would that I were called Goton. Ah, do not weep for such a trifle, my graceful maid. Tis a name to which one must get accustomed, that is all. When I once know it by heart, all will go smoothly. "'Listen, then, my dear Similar, I adore you passionately. "'I love you so, that tis simply miraculous.

Starting point is 12:41:58 "'I know a girl who is bursting with rage over it.' "'The jealous girl interrupted him. "'Who?' "'What matters that to us?' said Phoebus. "'Do you love me?' "'Oh,' said she. "'Well, that is all. "'You shall see how I love you also.

Starting point is 12:42:18 May the great devil Neptunus spear me if I do not make you the happiest woman in the world. We will have a pretty little house somewhere. I will make my archers parade before your windows. They are all mounted, and set at defiance those of Captain Mignon. There are Vugiers, Cranacquinies, and Han Colavenier. I will take you to the great sights of the Parisians at the storehouse of Ruli. 8,000 armed men, 30,000 white harnesses, short coats or coats of mail, the 67 banners of the trades,

Starting point is 12:42:56 the standards of the parliaments, of the chamber of accounts, the treasury of the generals, of the aides of the mint. A devilish fine array, in short, I will conduct you to see the lions of the Hotel de Waire, which are wild beasts. All women love that. For several moments the young girl, absorbed in her charming thoughts, was dreaming to the sound of his voice, without listening to the sense of his words. "'Oh, how happy you will be!' continued the captain, and at the same time he gently unbuckled the gypsy's girdle. "'What are you doing?' she said quickly.

Starting point is 12:43:37 This act of violence had roused her from her reverie. "'Nothing,' replied Phoebeus. I was only saying that you must abandon all this garb of folly, and the street-corner when you are with me. "'When I am with you, Phoebus,' said the young girl tenderly, she became pensive and silent once more. The captain, emboldened by her gentleness, clasped her waist without resistance, then began softly to unlace the poor child's corsage, then disarranged her tucker to such an

Starting point is 12:44:14 extent that the panting priest beheld the gypsy's beautiful shoulder emerged from the gauze, as round and brown as the moon rising through the mists of the horizon. The young girl allowed Phoebus to have his way. She did not appear to perceive it. The eye of the bold captain flashed. Suddenly she turned towards him. "'Febus,' she said with an expression of infinite love, "'instruct me in thy religion.' "'My religion!' exclaimed the captain, bursting with laughter.

Starting point is 12:44:47 "'I instruct you in my religion? "'Cone' a toner! What do you want with my religion?' "'In order that we may be married,' she replied. The captain's face assumed an expression of mingled surprise and disdain, of carelessness and libertine passion. "'Oh, bah!' said he. "'Do people marry?' The Bohemian turned pale, and her head drooped sadly on her breast.

Starting point is 12:45:18 "'My beautiful love,' resumed Phoebus tenderly. "'What nonsense is this? A great thing is marriage, truly. One is none the less loving for not having spit Latin into a priest's shop. While speaking thus in his softest voice, he approached extremely near the gypsy. His caressing hands resumed their place around her supple and delicate waist. His eye flashed more and more, and everything announced that Monseer Phibus was on the verge of one of those moments when Jupiter himself commits so many follies that Homer is obliged to summon a cloud to his rescue. Madame Claude saw everything.

Starting point is 12:46:05 The door was made of thoroughly rotten cast staves, which left large apertures for the passage of his hawk-like gaze. This brown-skinned, broad-shouldered priest, hitherto condemned to the austere virginity of the cloister, was quivering and boiling in the presence of this night-scene of love and voluptuousness. This young and beautiful girl given over in disarray to the ardent young man made melted lead flow in his veins. His eyes darted with sensual jealousy beneath all those loosened pinnesty. ins. Anyone who could, at that moment, have seen the face of the unhappy man glued to the worm-eaten bars, would have thought that he beheld the face of a tiger glaring from the depths of a cage at some jackal devouring a gazelle. His eyes shone like a candle through the cracks

Starting point is 12:47:00 of the door. All at once, Phoebus, with a rapid gesture, removed the gypsies gorgarette, The poor child, who had remained pale and dreamy, awoke with a start. She recoiled hastily from the enterprising officer, and casting a glance at her bare neck and shoulders, red, confused, mute with shame, she crossed her two beautiful arms on her breast to conceal it. Had it not been for the flame which burned in her cheeks, at the sight of her so silent and motionless, one would have declared her a statue of modesty. Her eyes were lowered. But the captain's gesture had revealed the mysterious amulet which he wore about her neck.

Starting point is 12:47:45 "'What is that?' he said, seizing this pretext to approach once more the beautiful creature whom he had just alarmed. "'Don't touch it,' she replied quickly. "'Tis my guardian. It will make me find my family again, if I remain worthy to do so.' "'Oh, leave me, monsieur la Capitaine. My mother, my poor mother, my mother, where art thou? Come to my rescue.

Starting point is 12:48:14 Have pity, Monsieur Fibus, give me back my gorgeret. Phoebus retreated amid, said in a cold tone. Oh, mademoiselle, I see plainly that you do not love me. I do not love him, exclaimed the unhappy child, and at the same time she clung to the captain. whom she drew to a seat beside her. "'I do not love thee, my Phoebus. What art thou saying, wicked man, to break my heart?

Starting point is 12:48:46 Oh, take me, take all! Do what you will with me, I am thine. What matters to me, the amulet? What matters to me, my mother? Tis thou who art my mother, since I love thee. Phoebus, my beloved Phoebus, dost thou see me? "'Tis I, look at me, tis the little one whom thou wilt surely not repulse, "'who comes, who comes herself to seek thee.

Starting point is 12:49:13 "'My soul, my life, my body, my person, all is one thing, "'which is thine, my captain. "'Well, no, we will not marry, since that displeases thee. "'And then, what am I, a miserable girl of the gutters, "'whiles thou, my Phoebus, art a gentleman, A fine thing truly. A dancer wed an officer. I was mad.

Starting point is 12:49:41 No, Phoebus, no. I will be thy mistress, thy amusement, thy pleasure, when thou wilt. A girl who shall belong to thee. I was only made for that, soiled, despised, dishonored. But what matters it? Beloved. I shall be the proudest and the most joyous of women.

Starting point is 12:50:02 And when I grow old or ugly, Phoebus, when I am no longer good to love you, you will suffer me to serve you still. Others will embroider scarfs for you. Tis I the servant, who will care for them. You will let me polish your spurs, brush your doublet, dust your riding boots. You will have that pity, will you not, Phoebus. Meanwhile, take me. Here, Phoebus, all this belongs to thee, only love me. We gypsies need only air and love." So saying she threw her arms round the officer's neck.

Starting point is 12:50:40 She looked up at him, supplicatingly, with a beautiful smile and all in tears. Her delicate neck rubbed against the cloth doublet with its rough embroideries. She writhed on her knees, her beautiful body half-naked. The intoxicated captain pressed his ardent lips to those lovely African shoulders. The young girl, her eyes bent on the ceiling as she leaned backwards, quivered, all palpitating beneath this kiss. All at once, above Phoebus's head, she beheld another head. A green, livid, convulsed face with the look of a lost soul.

Starting point is 12:51:21 Near this face was a hand grasping a poniard. It was the face and hand of the priest. He had broken the door, and he was there. Phoebus could not see him. The young girl remained motionless, frozen with terror, dumb, beneath that terrible apparition, like a dove which should raise its head at the moment when the hawk is gazing into her nest with its round eyes. She could not even utter a cry. She saw the punier descend upon Phoebus, and rise again, reeking. "'Mallidictions!' said the captain, and fell. She fainted.

Starting point is 12:51:59 At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted upon her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner. When she recovered her senses, she was surrounded by soldiers of the watch. They were carrying away the captain, bathed in his blood, the priest had disappeared. The window at the back of the room which opened on the river was wide open. They picked up a cloak which they supposed to belong to the officer, and she heard them saying around her,

Starting point is 12:52:35 "'Tis a sorceress who has stabbed a captain!' End of Book 7, Chapter 8. Book 8, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 8, Chapter 1. The crown changed into a dry leaf. Gringua and the entire court of miracles were suffering mortal anxiety. For a whole month they had not known what had become of La Esmeralda,

Starting point is 12:53:15 which greatly pained the Duke of Egypt and his friends the vagabonds, nor what had become of the goat, which redoubled Gringua's grief. One evening the gypsy had disappeared, and since that time had given no signs of life. All search had proved fruitless. Some tormenting boot-blacks had told Gringwa about meeting her that same evening near the Ponce-San-Michel, going off with an officer. But this husband, after the fashion of Bohemia, was an incredulous philosopher, and besides, he, better than anyone else, knew to what a point his wife was virginal. He had been

Starting point is 12:53:54 able to form a judgment as to the unconquerable modesty resulting from the combined virtues of the amulet and the gypsy, and he had mathematically calculated the resistance of that chastity to the second power. Accordingly, he was at ease on that score. Still, he could not understand this disappearance. It was a profound sorrow. He would have grown thin over it, had that been possible. He had forgotten everything, even his literary tastes, even his great work, de figuris regularibus et irregularibus, which it was his intention to have printed with the first money which he should procure, for he had raved over printing, ever since he had seen the d'idascalon of Ugué de Saint-Victor, printed with the celebrated characters of Vandolin de Spear.

Starting point is 12:54:46 One day, as he was passing sadly before the criminal Tournelle, he perceived a considerable crowd at one of the gates of the Palais de Justice. "'What is this?' he inquired of a young man who was coming out. "'I know not, sir,' replied the young man. "'Tis said that they are trying a woman who hath assassinated a gendarme. It appears that there is sorcery at the bottom of it. The archbishop and the official have intervened in the case, and my brother, who is the archdeacon of Jose, can think of nothing else.

Starting point is 12:55:20 Now I wish to speak with him, but I have not been able to reach him because of the throng, which vexes me greatly as I stand in need of money. "'Alas, sir,' said Gringwa, "'I would that I would lend you some, but my breeches are worn to holes, and tis not crowns which have done it.' He dared not tell the young man that he was acquainted with his brother the archdeacon, to whom he had not returned after the scene in the church. a negligence which embarrassed him.

Starting point is 12:55:53 The scholar went his way, and Gringua set out to follow the crowd which was mounting the staircase of the great chamber. In his opinion, there was nothing like the spectacle of a criminal process for dissipating melancholy, so exhilaratingly stupid are judges as a rule. The populace which he had joined walked and elbowed in silence. After a slow and tiresome march through a long, gloomy corridor, which he had been a long, which wound through the courthouse like the intestinal canal of the ancient edifice, he arrived near a low door, opening upon a hall which his lofty stature permitted him to survey with

Starting point is 12:56:30 a glance over the waving heads of the rabble. The hall was vast and gloomy, which latter fact made it appear still more spacious. The day was declining. The long-pointed windows permitted only a pale ray of light to enter, which was extinguished before it reached the vaulted ceiling, like an enormous trellis work of sculptured beams, whose thousand figures seemed to move confusedly in the shadows. Many candles were already lighted here and there on tables, and beaming on the heads of clerks buried in masses of documents. The anterior portion of the hall was occupied by the crowd. On the right and left were magistrates and tables. At the end, upon a platform, a number of judges, whose rear rank sank into the shadows, sinister and motionless face.

Starting point is 12:57:19 faces. The walls were sown with innumerable fleur-de-lie. A large figure of Christ might be vaguely described above the judges, and everywhere there were pikes and halberds, upon whose points the reflection of the candles placed tips of fire. "'Monsigneur,' Gringua inquired of one of his neighbors, "'who are all those persons ranged yonder, like prelates in council?' "'Monsieu,' replied the neighbor, those on the right are the counselors of the Grand Chamber, those on the left the counselors of the inquiry,

Starting point is 12:57:56 the masters in black gowns, the messrs in red. Who is that big red fellow, yonder above them, who is sweating? Pursued Gringua. It is Monsieur the President. And those sheep behind him, continued Gringua, who, as we have seen, did not love the magistracy, which arose possibly from the grudge which he cherished against the Palais de Justice since his dramatic misadventure.

Starting point is 12:58:27 They are messieurs the masters of requests of the king's household. And that bore in front of him? He is Monsieur the clerk of the Court of Parliament. And that crocodile on the right? Master Philippe Lullier, advocate extraordinary of Parliament. of the King." "'And that big, black Tomcat on the left?' Master Jacques Charmeloou, procurator of the King in the ecclesiastical court, with the

Starting point is 12:58:59 gentleman of the officiality. "'Come now, Monsieur,' said Gringwa. Pray what are all those fine fellows doing yonder? They are judging. Judging whom? I do not see the accused. "'It is a woman, sir. You cannot see her. She has her back turned to us, and she is hidden from us by the crowd. Stay, yonder she is, where you see a group of partisans.'

Starting point is 12:59:26 "'Who is the woman?' asked Gringua. "'Do you know her name?' "'No, monsieur, I have but just arrived. I merely assume that there is some sorcery about it, since the official is present at the trial.' "'Come,' said our philosopher. We are going to see all these magistrates devour human flesh. Tis as good a spectacle as any other." "'Monsieur,' remarked his neighbor, "'think you not that Master Jacques Chamilu has a very sweet air?'

Starting point is 13:00:00 "'Hem, replied Gringua. "'I distrust a sweetness which hath pinched nostrils and thin lips. Here the bystanders imposed silence upon the two chatterers. They were listening to an important deposition. "'Me seniors,' said an old woman in the middle of the hall, whose form was so concealed beneath their garments that one would have pronounced her a walking heap of rags. "'Me seniors, the thing is as true as that I am la Flauerdel,

Starting point is 13:00:35 established these forty years at the Ponce-Michel, and paying regularly my rents, Lord's dues, and quit rents. At the gate opposite the house of Tessan K.R. the dyer, which is on the side up the river. A poor old woman now, but a pretty maid in former days, my lords. Someone said to me lately, La Folle'el, don't use your spinning-wheel too much in the evening. The devil is fond of combing the distaffs of old women with his horns. Tis certain that the surly monk who was round about the temple last year now prowls in the city. "'Take care, La Fla Nordel, that he doth not knock at your door.

Starting point is 13:01:19 One evening I was spinning on my wheel. There comes a knock at my door. I ask who it is. They swear. I open. Two men enter. A man in black and a handsome officer. Of the black man, nothing could be seen but his eyes.

Starting point is 13:01:38 Two coals of fire. All the rest was hat and cloak. They say to me, the Saint-Marté chamber. Tis my upper chamber, my lords, my cleanest. They give me a crown. I put the crown in my drawer, and I say, This shall go to buy tripe at the slaughterhouse of La Gloriette tomorrow. We go upstairs.

Starting point is 13:02:01 On arriving at the upper chamber, and while my back is turned, the black man disappears. That dazed me a bit. The officer, who was as handsome as a great lord, goes downstairs again with me. He goes out. In about the time it takes to spin a quarter of a handful of flax, he returns with a beautiful young girl, a doll who would have shown like the sun had she been quaffed. She had with her a goat, a big billy-goat, whether black or white I no longer remember. That set me to thinking, the girl does not concern me, but the goat. I love not

Starting point is 13:02:40 those beasts. They have a beard and horns. They are so like a man. And then they smack of the witches Sabbath. However, I say nothing. I had the crown. That is right. Is it not, Monsieur George? I show the captain and the wench to the upper chamber, and I leave them alone, that is to say, with the goat. I go down and set to spinning again. I must inform you that my house has a ground floor, and a story above. I know not why I fell to thinking of the surly monk whom the goat had put into my head again, and then the beautiful girl was rather strangely decked out. All at once I hear a cry upstairs, and something falls on the floor, and the window opens. I run to mine which is beneath it, and I behold a black mass pass before my eyes and fall into the water. It was a phantom,

Starting point is 13:03:37 clad like a priest. It was a moonlight night. I saw him quite plainly. He was swimming in the direction of the city. Then, all of a tremble, I call the watch. The gentlemen of the police enter, and not knowing just at the first moment what the matter was, and being merry, they beat me. I explained to them. We go upstairs, and what do we find? My poor chamber all blow, The captain stretched out at full length with a dagger in his neck, the girl pretending to be dead, and the goat all in a fright. Pretty work, I say. I shall have to wash that floor for more than a fortnight. It will have to be scraped. It will be a terrible job.

Starting point is 13:04:27 They carried off the officer, poor young man, and the wench with her bosom all bare. But wait, the worst is that on the next day, when I wanted to take it. take the crown to bite tripe, I found a dead leaf in its place." The old woman ceased. A murmur of horror ran through the audience. "'That phantom, that goat, all smacks of magic,' said one of Gringwa's neighbors. "'And that dry leaf,' added another. "'No doubt about it,' joined in a third. She is a witch who has dealings with the surly monk for the purpose of plundering officers.

Starting point is 13:05:07 Gringwa himself was not disinclined to regard this as altogether alarming and probable. "'Goodie Falordel,' said the President majestically, "'have you nothing more to communicate to the Court?' "'No, Monseigneur,' replied the Crone, "'except that the report has described my house as a hovel and stinking, which is an outrageous fashion of speaking. The houses on the bridge are not imposing. because there are such multitudes of people.

Starting point is 13:05:39 But nevertheless, the butchers continue to dwell there, who are wealthy folk, and married to very proper and handsome women. The magistrate, who had reminded Gringhua of a crocodile, rose. Silence, said he. I pray the gentleman not to lose sight of the fact that a dagger was found on the person of the accused. "'Goodie Falordel, have you brought that leaf into which the crown which the demon gave you was transformed?' "'Yes, Monseigneur,' she replied, "'I found it again. Here it is.'

Starting point is 13:06:17 A bailiff handed the dead leaf to the crocodile, who made a doleful shake of the head and passed it on to the president, who gave it to the procurator of the king in the ecclesiastical court, and thus it made the circuit of the hall. It is a birch leaf," said Master Jacques Charmolu. A fresh proof of magic. A counselor took up the word. Witness, two men went upstairs together in your house, the black man whom you first saw disappear and afterwards swimming in the seine with his priestly garments, and the officer.

Starting point is 13:06:56 Which of the two handed you the crown? The old woman pondered for a moment and then said, The officer. A murmur ran through the crowd. Ah, thought Gringwa, this makes some doubt in my mind. But Master Philippe Lullier, advocate extraordinary to the king, interposed once more. I will recall to these gentlemen that in the deposition taken at his bedside,

Starting point is 13:07:26 the assassinated officer, while declaring that he had a vague idea when the black man accosted him that the latter might be the surly monk, added that the phantom had pressed him eagerly to go and make acquaintance with the accused, and upon his, the captains remarking that he had no money, he had given him the crown which he said the officer paid to La Falordel. Hence, that crown is the money of hell. This conclusive observation appeared to dissipate all the doubts of Gringua and the other skeptics in the audience. "'You have the documents, gentlemen,' added the King's advocate, as he took his seat.

Starting point is 13:08:08 "'You can consult the testimony of Phoebus de Chateaupe.' At that name the accused sprang up, her head rose above the throng. Gringwa, with horror, recognized La Esmeralda. She was pale. Her tresses, formerly so gracefully braided and spangled with sequins, hung in disorder. Her lips were blue. Her hollow eyes were terrible. Alas! "'Phibus,' she said in bewilderment. "'Where is he? Oh, messengers, before you kill me,

Starting point is 13:08:42 tell me for pity's sake whether he still lives.' "'Hold your tongue, woman,' replied the President. "'That is no affair of ours.' "'Oh, for mercy's sake, tell me if he is alive,' she repeated, clasping her beautiful, emaciated hands, and the sound of her chains in contact with their dress was heard. "'Well,' said the king's advocate roughly, "'he is dying. Are you satisfied?'

Starting point is 13:09:10 The unhappy girl fell back on her criminal seat, speechless, tearless, white as a wax figure. The president bent down to a man at his feet, who wore a gold cap and a black gown, a chain on his neck, and a wand in his hand. "'Beliff! Bring you in his feet.' Then the second accused! All eyes turned towards a small door which opened, and to the great agitation of Gringua gave passage

Starting point is 13:09:38 to a pretty goat with horns and hoofs of gold. The elegant beast halted for a moment on the threshold, stretching out its neck as though perched on the summit of a rock it had before its eyes an immense horizon. Suddenly it caught sight of the gypsy girl, and leaping over the table and the head of a clerk in two bounds it was at her knees. Then it rolled gracefully on its mistress's feet, soliciting a word or a caress. But the accused remained motionless, and poor Jolly himself obtained not a glance. "'Um, why, tis my villainous beast!' said old Falordel. "'I recognize the two perfectly!' Jacques Charmolu interfered.

Starting point is 13:10:26 "'If the gentleman please, we will proceed to the examination of the goat.' He was, in fact, the second criminal, nothing more simple in those days than a suit of sorcery instituted against an animal. We find, among others in the accounts of the Provost Office for 1466, a curious detail concerning the expenses of the trial of Gilles-Solart and his sow, executed for their demerits at Corbe. Everything is there, the cost of the pins in which to place the sow, the five hundred bundles of brushwood purchased at the port of Morseant, the three pints of wine and the bread,

Starting point is 13:11:10 the last repast of the victim fraternally shared by the executioner, down to the eleven days of guard and food for the sow, at eight Digny's paris each. Sometimes they went even further than animals. The capitularies of Charlemagne and of Louis de Bonner imposed severe penalties on fiery phantoms which presumed to appear in the air. Meanwhile, the procurator had exclaimed, If the demon which possesses this goat and which has resisted all exorcisms

Starting point is 13:11:44 persists in its deeds of witchcraft, if it alarms the court with them, we warn it that we shall be forced to put in requisition against it the gallows. or the steak." Gringwa broke out into a cold perspiration. Sharmilu took from the table the gypsy's tambourine, and presenting it to the goat, in a certain manner, asked the latter, "'What o'clock is it?' The goat looked at it with an intelligent eye, raised its gilded hoof, and struck seven blows.

Starting point is 13:12:17 It was, in fact, seven o'clock. A movement of terror ran through the crowd. Gringwa could not endure it. "'He is destroying himself,' he cried aloud. "'You see well that he does not know what he is doing.' "'Silence among the louts at the end of the hall,' said the bailiff sharply. Jacques Charmolu, by the aid of the same maneuvers of the tambourine, made the goat perform many other tricks connected with the date of the day,

Starting point is 13:12:51 the month of the year, etc., which the reader has already witnessed. And, by virtue of an optical illusion, peculiar to judicial proceedings, the same spectators, who had probably more than once, applauded in the public square, Jolly's innocent magic, were terrified by it beneath the roof of the Palais de Justice. The goat was undoubtedly the devil. It was far worse when the procurator of the king, having emptied upon a floor, a certain bag filled with movable letters, which jolly wore round his neck, they beheld the

Starting point is 13:13:29 goat extract with his hoof from the scattered alphabet the fatal name of Phoebus. The witchcraft of which the captain had been the victim appeared irresistibly demonstrated, and in the eyes of all the gypsy, that ravishing dancer, who had so often dazzled the passers-by with her grace, was no longer anything but a frightful vampire. However, she betrayed no sign of life. Neither Jolly's graceful evolutions, nor the menaces of the court, nor the suppressed imprecations of the spectators any longer reached her mind. In order to arouse her, a police officer was obliged to shake her unmercifully,

Starting point is 13:14:11 and the president had to raise his voice, "'Girl, you are of the bohemian race, addicted to deeds of witchcraft. You, in complicity with the bewitched goat implicated in this suit, during the night of the 29th of March last, murdered and stabbed, in concert with the powers of darkness, by the aid of charms and underhand practices, a captain of the king's arches of the watch, Phoebus to Chateupay. Do you persist in denying it? "'Horor!' exclaimed the young girl, hiding her face in her hands. "'My, Phoebus! Oh, this is hell!'

Starting point is 13:14:55 "'Do you persist in your denial?' demanded the President coldly. "'Do I deny it?' she said with terrible accents, and she rose with flashing eyes. The President continued squarely. "'Then how do you explain the facts laid to your charge?' She replied in a broken voice, "'I have already told you, I do not know. "'Twas a priest, a priest whom I do not know, an infernal priest who pursues me.'

Starting point is 13:15:31 "'That is it,' retorted the judge, "'the surly monk. "'Oh, gentlemen, have mercy! "'I am but a poor girl, of Egypt,' said the judge. Master Jacques Charmolu interposed sweetly. In view of the sad obstinacy of the accused, I demand the application of the torture. Granted, said the President. The unhappy girl quivered in every limb, but she rose at the command of the men with

Starting point is 13:16:07 partisans and walked with a tolerably firm step, preceded by Charmolu and the priests of the officiality, between two rows of halberds towards a medium-sized door, which suddenly opened and closed again behind her, and which produced upon the grief-stricken Gringua the effect of a horrible mouth which had just devoured her. When she disappeared, they heard a plaintive bleeding. It was the little goat mourning. The sitting of the court was suspended, a counsellor having remarked that the gentlemen were fatigued, and that it was would be a long time to wait until the torture was at an end, the President replied that a magistrate must know how to sacrifice himself to his duty.

Starting point is 13:16:53 "'What an annoying and vexatious hussy!' said an aged judge, "'to get herself put to the question when one has not supped.' End of Book 8, Chapter 1. Book 8 Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 8, Chapter 2. Continuation of the Crown which was changed into a dry leaf. After ascending and descending several steps in the corridors, which were so dark that they were lighted by lamps at midday,

Starting point is 13:17:43 La Esmerelda, still surrounded by her lugubrious escort, was thrust by the police into a gloomy chamber. This chamber, circular in form, occupied the ground floor of one of those great towers, which, even in our own century, still pierced through the layer of modern edifices with which modern Paris has covered ancient Paris. There were no windows to this cellar, no other opening than the entrance, which was low, and closed by an enormous iron door. Nevertheless, light was not lacking.

Starting point is 13:18:20 A furnace had been constructed in the thickness of the wall. A large fire was lighted there, which filled the vault with its crimson reflections, and deprived a miserable candle, which stood in one corner of all radiance. The iron grating, which served to close the oven, being raised at that moment, allowed only a view at the mouth of the flaming vent-hole in the dark wall, the lower extremity of its bars, like a row of black and pointed teeth, set flat apart. which made the furnace resemble one of those mouths of dragons which spout forth flames in ancient legends. By the light which escaped from it the prisoner beheld all about the room, frightful

Starting point is 13:19:03 instruments whose use she did not understand. In the center lay a leather mattress, placed almost flat upon the ground, over which hung a strap provided with a buckle, attached to a brass ring in the mouth of a flat-nosed monster carved in the keystone of the vault. Tongs, pincers, large plowshares filled the interior of the furnace, and glowed in a confused heap on the coals. The sanguine light of the furnace illuminated in the chamber only a confused mass of horrible things. This tartarus was called simply the question chamber. On the bed, in a negligent attitude, sat Pierat Tortureu, the official torturer. His underlings, two gnomes with square faces, leather aprons, and linen breeches, were moving

Starting point is 13:19:58 the iron instruments on the coals. In vain did the poor girl summon up her courage. On entering this chamber, she was stricken with horror. The sergeants of the bailiff of the courts drew up in line on one side, the priests of the officiality on the other. A clerk, inkhorn, and a table were in one corner. Master Jacques Charmeloo approached the gypsy with a very sweet smile. "'My dear child,' said he, "'do you still persist in your denial?' "'Yes,' she replied in a dying voice. "'In that case,' replied Charmolu, It will be very painful for us to have to question you more urgently than we should like.

Starting point is 13:20:47 Pray take the trouble to seat yourself on this bed. Master Perriat, make room for Mademoiselle and close the door. Pierat rose with a growl. If I shut the door, he muttered, my fire will go out. Well, my dear fellow, replied Charmolu. Leave it open then. Meanwhile, La Esmeralda had remained standing. That leather bed on which so many unhappy wretches had writhed frightened her.

Starting point is 13:21:19 Terror chilled the very marrow of her bones. She stood there bewildered and stupefied. At a sign from Charmolu, the two assistants took her and placed her in a sitting posture on the bed. They did her no harm, but when these men touched her, when that leather touched her, she felt all her blood retreat to her heart. She cast a frightened look around the chamber. It seemed to her as though she beheld advancing from all quarters towards her, with the intention of crawling up her body and biting and pinching her,

Starting point is 13:21:57 all those hideous implements of torture, which, as compared to the instruments of all sorts she had hitherto seen, were like what bats, centipedes, and spiders. are among insects and birds. "'Where is the physician?' asked Charmolu. "'Here,' replied a black gown, whom she had not before noticed. She shuddered. Mademoiselle, resumed the caressing voice of the procurator of the ecclesiastical court, "'For the third time, do you persist in denying the deeds of which you are accused?'

Starting point is 13:22:37 This time she could only make a sign with her head. "'You persist,' said Jacques Charmolu. "'Then it grieves me deeply, but I must fulfil my office.' "'Monsieur la peculiar de wa' said Pirat abruptly. "'How shall we begin?' Charmolu hesitated for a moment with the ambiguous grimace of a poet in search of a rhyme. With the boot, he said at last, the unfortunate girl felt herself so utterly abandoned by God and men that her head fell upon her breast like an inert thing which has no power in itself. The tormentor and the physician approached her simultaneously. At the same time, the two assistants began to fumble among their hideous arsenal.

Starting point is 13:23:34 At the clanking of their frightful irons the unhappy child quivered like a dead frog which is being galvanized. Oh! she murmured, so low that no one heard her. Oh, my Phoebus! Then she fell back once more into her immobility and her marble silence. This spectacle would have rent any other heart than those of her judges. One would have pronounced her a poor sinful soul, being tortured by Satan beneath the scarlet wicked of hell. The miserable body which that frightful swarm of saws, wheels, and racks, were about

Starting point is 13:24:18 to clasp in their clutches, the being, who was about to be manipulated by the harsh hands of executioners and pincers, was that gentle, white, fragile creature. A poor grain of millet which human justice was, was handing over to the terrible mills of torture to grind. Meanwhile the callous hands of Periat Torturu's assistance had bared that charming leg, that tiny foot, which had so often amazed the passers-by with their delicacy and beauty in the squares of Paris. "'Tis a shame,' muttered the tormentor, glancing at these graceful and delicate forms.

Starting point is 13:25:01 Had the Archdeacon been present, he certainly would have recalled at that moment his symbol of the spider and the fly. Soon, the unfortunate girl, through a mist which spread before her eyes, beheld the boot approach. She soon beheld her foot encased between iron plates, disappear in the frightful apparatus. Then terror restored her strength. "'Take that off!' she cried. angrily, and drawing herself up with her hair all dishevelled. Mercy!

Starting point is 13:25:36 She darted from the bed to fling herself at the feet of the king's procurator, but her leg was fast in the heavy block of oak and iron, and she sank down upon the boot, more crushed than a bee with a lump of lead on its wing. At a sign from Charmolu she was replaced on the bed, and two coarse hands adjusted to her delicate waste the strap which hung from the ceiling. "'For the last time, do you confess the facts in the case?' demanded Charmelo with his imperturbable benignity. "'I am innocent.'

Starting point is 13:26:15 "'Then, mademoiselle, how do you explain the circumstance laid to your charge?' "'Alas, Monseigneur, I do not know.' "'So you deny them? All!' "'Proceed,' said Charmolu to Periat. Pierrat turned the handle of the screwjack. The boot was contracted, and the unhappy girl uttered one of those horrible cries which have no orthography in any human language.

Starting point is 13:26:48 "'Stop,' said Charmolu to Pierrat. "'Do you confess?' he said to the gypsy. "'All!' cried the wretched girl. "'I confess! I confess! "'Mercie!' She had not calculated her strength when she faced the torture. Poor child, whose life up to that time had been so joyous, so pleasant, so sweet,

Starting point is 13:27:12 the first pain had conquered her. "'Humanity forces me to tell you,' remarked the king's procurator, "'that in confessing it is death that you must expect.' "'I certainly hope so,' she said, and she fell back upon the leather bed, dying, doubled up, allowing herself to hang suspended from the strap buckled round her waist. "'Come, fair one, hold up a little,' said Master Periat, raising her. "'You have the air of the lamb of the golden fleece which hangs from Monsieur de Bourgone's neck.'

Starting point is 13:27:51 Jacques Charmelo raised his voice. "'Clurk, right. Young bohemian maid, you confess your participation in the feasts, witches, sabbaths, and witchcrafts of hell with ghosts, hags, and vampires? Answer. Yes, she said, so low that her words were lost in her breathing. You confess to having seen the ram which Beelzebub causes to appear in the clouds to call together the witch's sabbath and witches beheld by sorcery, alone? Yes. You confess to having adored the heads of Baphomet, those abominable idols of the Templars? Yes. To having had habitual dealings with the devil under the form of a goat familiar,

Starting point is 13:28:46 joined with you in the suit? Yes. Lastly, you avow and confess to having, with the aid of the demon and of the phantom, vulgarly known as the surly monk, on the night of the 29th of March last, murdered and assassinated a captain named Phoebus de Chateaupe. She raised her large staring eyes to the magistrate, and replied, as though mechanically, without convulsion or agitation, Yes. It was evident that everything within her was broken. Right, clerk, said Charmolu, and addressing the torturers. Release the prisoners and take her back to the court. When the prisoner had been unbooted, the procurator of the ecclesiastical court

Starting point is 13:29:40 examined her foot, which was still swollen with pain. Come, he said, there's no great harm done. You shrieked in good season. You could still dance, my beauty. Then he turned to a little bit of a little. his acolytes of the officiality. Behold, justice, enlightened at last. This is a solace, gentlemen.

Starting point is 13:30:04 Mademoiselle will bear us witness that we have acted with all possible gentleness. End of Book 8, Chapter 2. Book 8, Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Book 8 Chapter 3 End of the Crown which was turned into a dry leaf When she re-entered the audience hall, pale and limping, she was received with a general murmur of pleasure.

Starting point is 13:30:45 On the part of the audience there was the feeling of impatience gratified which one experiences at the theater at the end of the last entree act of the comedy, when the curtain rises and the conclusion is about to begin. On the part of the judges it was the hope of getting their suppers sooner. The little goat also bleated with joy. He tried to run toward his mistress, but they had tied him to the bench. Night was fully set in. The candles, whose number had not been increased, cast so little light that the walls of the hall

Starting point is 13:31:23 could not be seen. The shadows there enveloped all objects in a sort of mist. A few apathetic faces of judges alone could be dimly discerned. Opposite them, at the extremity of the long hall, they could see a vaguely white point standing out against the somber background. This was the accused. She had dragged herself to her place. When Charmolu had installed himself in a magisterial manner in his own, he seated himself,

Starting point is 13:31:53 then rose and said, without exhibiting too much self-complacency at his success, The accused has confessed all. Bohemian girl, the President continued, Have you avowed all your deeds of magic, prostitution, and assassination on Phoebe's de Chateaupe? Her heart contracted. She was heard to sob amid the darkness. Anything you like, she replied feebly, but kill me quickly. "'Monsieur, procurator of the King in the ecclesiastical courts,' said the President,

Starting point is 13:32:34 "'the Chamber is ready to hear you in your charge.' Master Charmolu exhibited an alarming notebook, and began to read, with many gestures and the exaggerated accentuation of the pleader, an oration in Latin, wherein all the proofs of the suit were piled up in Ciceronian paraphrases, flanked with quotations from Plautus. his favorite comic author. We regret that we are not able to offer to our readers this remarkable piece. The orator pronounced it with marvelous action. Before he had finished the exordium,

Starting point is 13:33:13 the perspiration was starting from his brow and his eyes from his head. All at once, in the middle of a fine period, he interrupted himself, and his glance, ordinarily so gentle and even stupid, became menacing. "'Gentlemen,' he exclaimed, this time in French, for it was not in his copy-book. "'Satan is so mixed up in this affair that here he is present at our debates, and making sport of their majesty. Behold!' So saying he pointed to the little goat, who, unseeing Charmolu gesticulating, had in point of fact thought it appropriate to do the same, and had seated himself on his

Starting point is 13:33:59 conscious, reproducing to the best of his ability, with his forepaws and his bearded head, the pathetic pantomime of the king's procurator in the ecclesiastical court. This was, if the reader remembers, one of his prettiest accomplishments. This incident, this last proof, produced a great effect. The goat's hoofs were tied, and the king's procurator resumed the thread of his eloquence. It was very long, but the peroration was admirable. Here is the concluding phrase. Let the reader add the hoarse voice and the breathless gestures of Master Chamilu.

Starting point is 13:34:41 Edeo, Domni Coram Striga demonstraeta, Criminé patente, Intentione criminis existenti. Inornine, sanctoeclioe, Nostre, dominece, perisciensis, coi is insassine hebindy, omni modem, altam, just at the time,

Starting point is 13:35:06 in halah hack, inter marata civitas insula. Teneri presentium, declermus, no requeerre. Primo, aliquandum, pecuniarium,

Starting point is 13:35:19 indemnattitam. Second, amendationonum, honorobile ante portilium maximum Nastro Damino Ecclio

Starting point is 13:35:31 Cathedralis Tertio Cententiani in vertute Cooius Istirga Cepela Seo

Starting point is 13:35:41 Intrivio Valgaritur Dicto Lagra Sio Insula Yonto Influio Secheno

Starting point is 13:35:50 Jaxta pointam Jordini Ragales, Executato Sint. He put on his cap again and seated himself. Ehue, sighed the broken-hearted Gringua. Basa Latinitas, bastard Latin. Another man in a black gown rose near the accused. He was her lawyer. The judges, who were fasting, began to grumble.

Starting point is 13:36:22 Advocate, be brief. "'Streef,' said the President. "'Monsieur the President,' replied the advocate, "'since the defendant has confessed the crime, "'I have only one word to say to these gentlemen. "'Here is a text from the Salick Law. "'If a witch hath eaten a man, "'and if she be convicted of it,

Starting point is 13:36:45 "'she shall pay a fine of eight thousand deniers, "'which amount to two hundred sous of gold. "'May it please the change, to condemn my client to the fine. An abrogated text, said the advocate extraordinary of the king. Nago, I deny it, replied the advocate. Put it to the vote, said one of the counselors. The crime is manifest, and it is late.

Starting point is 13:37:14 They proceeded to take a vote without leaving the room. The judges signified their assent without giving their reasons. They were in a hurry. Their capped heads were seen uncovering one after the other in the gloom at the lugubrious question addressed to them by the president in a low voice. The poor accused had the appearance of looking at them, but her troubled eye no longer saw. Then the clerk began to write. Then he handed a long parchment to the president.

Starting point is 13:37:45 Then the unhappy girl heard the people moving, the pikes clashing, and a freezing voice saying to her, Bohemian wench, on the day when it shall seem good to our Lord the King, at the hour of noon you will be taken in a tumble, in your shift with bare feet, and a rope about your neck, before the grand portal of Notre Dame, and you will there make an apology with a wax torch of the weight of two pounds in your hand, and thence you will be conducted to the Plastergrave, where you will be hanged and strangled on the town gibbet, and likewise your goat, and you will pay to the official three lions of gold, in reparation of the crimes by you committed

Starting point is 13:38:31 and by you confessed of sorcery and magic, debauchery, and murder upon the person of the Seer Phoebus de Chateaupe. May God have mercy on your soul. Oh, tis a dream, she murmured, and she felt rough hands bearing her away. End of Book 8, Chapter 3. Book 8, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 8, Chapter 4, La Siette Agnesparanza, leave all hope behind ye who enter here. In the Middle Ages, when an edifice was complete, there was almost as much of it in the earth as above it. Unless built upon piles, like Notre Dame, a palace, a fortress, a church,

Starting point is 13:39:37 had always a double bottom. In cathedrals it was, in some sort, another subterranean cathedral, low, dark, mysterious, blind, and mute, under the upper nave which was overflowing with light and reverberating with organs and bells day and night. Sometimes it was a sepulchre. In palaces, in fortresses, it was a prison, sometimes a sepulchre also, sometimes both together. These mighty buildings, whose mode of formation and vegetation we have elsewhere explained, had not simply foundations, but, so to speak, roots,

Starting point is 13:40:16 which ran branching through the soil in chambers, galleries and staircases, like the construction above. Thus, churches, palaces, fortresses, had the earth halfway up their bodies. The cellars of an edifice formed another edifice, into which one descended instead of ascending, and which extended its subterranean grounds under the external piles of the monument,

Starting point is 13:40:42 like those forests and mountains which are reversed in the mirror-like waters of a lake, beneath the forests and mountains of the banks. At the fortress of Saint Antoine, at the Palais de Justice of Paris, at the Louvre, these subterranean edifices were prisons. The stories of these prisons, as they sank into the soil, grew constantly narrower and more gloomy. They were so many zones where the shades of horror were graduated. Dante could never imagine anything better for his hell.

Starting point is 13:41:17 These tunnels of cells usually terminated in a sense. sack of a lowest dungeon, with a vat-like bottom where Dante placed Satan, where society placed those condemned to death. A miserable human existence once interred there. Farewell light, air, life. Ogni speranza, every hope. It only came forth to the scaffold or the stake. Sometimes it rotted there. Human justice called this forgetting. Between the Between men and himself the condemned man felt a pile of stones and jailers weighing down upon his head, and the entire prison the massive Bastille was nothing more than an enormous, complicated lock, which barred him off from the rest of the world.

Starting point is 13:42:08 It was in a sloping cavity of this description in the Obliettes excavated by Saint-Louis, in the impasse of the Tournelle, that La Asmerelde had been placed on being condemned to death, fear of her escape, no doubt, with the colossal courthouse over her head. Poor fly, who could not have lifted even one of its blocks of stone. Assurely, providence and society have been equally unjust. Such an excess of unhappiness and of torture was not necessary to break so frail a creature. There she lay, lost in the shadows, buried, hidden, immured. Anyone who could have beheld her in this state, after having seen her laugh and dance in the sun, would have shuddered. Cold as night, cold as death, not a breath of air in her tresses, not a human sound in her ear,

Starting point is 13:43:04 no longer a ray of light in her eyes, snapped in twain, crushed with chains, crouching beside a jug and a loaf on a little straw in a pool of water, which was formed under her by the sweating of the prison walls. Without motion, almost without breath, she had no longer the power to suffer. Phoebus, the sun, midday, the open air, the streets of Paris, the dances with applause, the sweet babblings of love with the officer. Then the priest, the old crone, the poniard, the blood, the torture, the gibbet. All this did indeed pass before her mind, sometimes as a charming and golden vision,

Starting point is 13:43:48 sometimes as a hideous nightmare. But it was no longer anything but a vague and horrible struggle, lost in the gloom or distant music played up above ground, and which was no longer audible at the depth where the unhappy girl had fallen. Since she had been there, she had neither waked nor slept. In that misfortune, in that cell, she could no longer distinguish her waking hours from slumber, dreams from reality, any more than day from night. All this was mixed, broken, floating, disseminated confusedly in her thought. She no longer felt. She no longer knew, she no longer

Starting point is 13:44:32 thought. At the most she only dreamed. Never had a living creature been thrust more deeply into nothingness. Thus been numbed, frozen, petrified, she had been bummed, frozen, petrified, she had barely noticed on two or three occasions the sound of a trap-door opening somewhere above her, without even permitting the passage of a little light, and through which a hand had tossed her a bit of black bread. Nevertheless, this periodical visit of the jailer was the sole communication which was left her with mankind. The single thing still mechanically occupied her ear. Above her head. The dampness was filtering through the moldy stones of the vault, and a drop of water dropped from them at regular intervals. She listened stupidly to the noise made by this drop of water

Starting point is 13:45:25 as it fell into the pool beside her. This drop of water, falling from time to time into that pool, was the only movement which still went on around her, the only clock which marked the time, the only noise which reached her of all the noise made on the surface of the earth. To tell the hole, however, she also felt from time to time in that cesspool of mire in darkness something cold passing over her foot or her arm, and she shuddered. How long had she been there? She did not know. She had a recollection of a sentence of death pronounced somewhere, against someone, Then, having been herself carried away, and of waking up in darkness and silence,

Starting point is 13:46:15 chilled to the heart. She had dragged herself along on her hands. Then iron rings that cut her ankles and chains had rattled. She had recognized the fact that all around her was wall, that below her there was a pavement covered with moisture and a truss of straw, but neither lamp nor air-hole. Then she had seated herself on that straw, and sometimes for the sake of changing her attitude on the last stone step in her dungeon.

Starting point is 13:46:48 For a while she had tried to count the black minutes measured off for her by the drop of water, but that melancholy labor of an ailing brain had broken off of itself in her head and left her in stupor. At length one day, or one night, for midnight and midday were of of the same color in that sepulchre, she heard above her a louder noise than was usually made by the turnkey when he brought her bread and jug of water. She raised her head, and beheld a ray of reddish light passing through the crevices in the sort of trap-door contrived in the roof of the impasse.

Starting point is 13:47:29 At the same time the heavy lock creaked, the trap grated on its rusty hinges, turned, and she beheld a lantern, a hand, and the lower ported. portions of the bodies of two men, the door being too low to admit of her seeing their heads. The light pained her so acutely that she shut her eyes. When she opened them again, the door was closed. The lantern was deposited on one of the steps of the staircase. A man alone stood before her. A monk's black cloak fell to his feet. A cowl of the same color concealed his face. Nothing was visible of his person, neither face nor hands. It was a long black shroud standing erect, and beneath which something could

Starting point is 13:48:16 be felt moving. She gazed fixedly for several minutes at this sort of specter, but neither he nor she spoke. One would have pronounced them two statues confronting each other. Two things only seemed alive in that cavern, the wick of the lantern, which sputtered on account of the dampness of the atmosphere and the drop of water from the roof, which cut this irregular sputtering with its monotonous splash, and made the light of the lantern quiver in concentric waves on the oily water of the pool. At last the prisoner broke the silence. "'Who are you?' a priest. The words, the accent, the sound of his voice made her tremble. The priest continued in a hollow

Starting point is 13:49:06 voice. Are you prepared? For what? To die. Oh, said she, would it be soon? Tomorrow. Her head, which had been raised with joy,

Starting point is 13:49:21 fell back upon her breast. Tis very far away yet, she murmured. Why could they not have done it today? Then you are very unhappy, asked the priest after a silence. I am very cold, she replied. She took her feet in her hands, a gesture habitual with unhappy wretches who are cold, as we have already seen in the case of the recluse of the Tour Hollande, and her teeth chattered.

Starting point is 13:49:51 The priest appeared to cast his eyes around the dungeon from beneath his cowl. Without light, without fire, in the water, it is horrible. Yes, she replied, with the bewildered air which unhappiness had given her. The day belongs to everyone. Why do they give me only night? Do you know, resumed the priest after a fresh silence, why you are here?

Starting point is 13:50:21 I thought I knew once, she said, passing her thin fingers over her eyelids, as though to aid her memory. But I know no longer. All at once she began to begin to, to weep like a child. "'I should like to get away from here, sir. I am cold. I am afraid. And there are creatures which crawl over my body.' "'Well, follow me.'

Starting point is 13:50:48 So saying, the priest took her arm. The unhappy girl was frozen to her very soul, yet that hand produced an impression of cold upon her. "'Oh,' she murmured, "'tis the icy hand of death. Who are you?" The priest threw back his cowl. She looked. It was the sinister visage which had so long pursued her, that demon's head which had appeared at La Falauredelles above the head of her adored Phoebus, that eye which she had last

Starting point is 13:51:22 seen glittering beside a dagger. This apparition always so fatal for her, and which had thus driven her on from misfortune to misfortune, even to torture, roused her from her stupor. It seemed to her that the sort of veil which had lain thick upon her memory was rent away. All the details of her melancholy adventure, from the nocturnal scene at La Flaordel's to her condemnation to the Tournel, recurred to her memory, no longer vague and confused as heretofore, but distinct, harsh, clear, palpitating, terrible. These souvenirs, half-effaced and almost obliterated by excess of suffering, were revived by the somber figure which stood before her, as the approach of fire causes letters traced upon white paper

Starting point is 13:52:15 with invisible ink to start out perfectly fresh. It seemed to her that all the wounds of her heart opened and bled simultaneously. Ha! she cried, with her hands on her eyes and a convulsive trembling, "'Tis the priest!' Then she dropped her arms in discouragement and remained seated, with lowered head, eyes fixed on the ground, mute and still trembling.

Starting point is 13:52:43 The priest gazed at her with the eye of a hawk, which has long been soaring in a circle from the heights of heaven over a poor lark cowering in the wheat, and has long been silently contracting the formidable circles of his flight, and has suddenly swooped down upon his prey like a flash of lightning and holds it panting in his talons. She began to murmur in a low voice. Finish! Finish the last blow! And she drew her head down in terror between her shoulders,

Starting point is 13:53:18 like the lamb awaiting the blow of the butcher's axe. So, I inspire you with horror, he said at length. She made no reply. "'Do I inspire you with horror?' he repeated. Her lips contracted, as though with a smile. "'Yes,' said she, "'the headsman scoffs at the condemned. Here he has been pursuing me, threatening me, terrifying me for months.

Starting point is 13:53:48 Had it not been for him, my God, how happy it should have been. It was he who cast me into this abyss. Oh, heavens, it was he who killed him, my Phoebus. Here, bursting into sobs and raising her eyes to the priest, "'Oh, wretch, who are you? What have I done to you? Do you then hate me so? Alas, what have you against me?' "'I love thee,' cried the priest. Her tears suddenly ceased. She gazed at him with the look of an idiot.

Starting point is 13:54:27 He had fallen on his knees and was devouring her with the eyes of flame. "'Dost thou understand? I love thee!' he cried again. "'What love!' said the unhappy girl with a shudder. He resumed. "'The love of a damned soul!' Both remained silent for several minutes, crushed beneath the weight of their emotions. He maddened, she stupefied. "'Listen,' said the priest at last, and a singular calm had come over him. "'You shall know all I am about to tell you, that which I have hitherto hardly dared to say to myself,

Starting point is 13:55:14 when furtively interrogating my conscience at those deep hours of the night, when it is so dark that it seems as though God no longer saw us. Listen. Before I knew you, young girl, I was happy. So was I, she sighed feebly. Do not interrupt me. Yes, I was happy. At least I believed myself to be so.

Starting point is 13:55:42 I was pure. My soul was filled with limpid light. No head was raised more proudly and more radiately than my heart. Mine. Priests consulted me on chastity. Doctors on doctrines. Yes, science was all in all to me. It was a sister to me.

Starting point is 13:56:02 A sister sufficed. Not but that with age other ideas came to me. More than once my flesh had been moved as a woman's form passed by. That force of sex and blood which, in the madness of youth, I had imagined that I had stifled forever, had more than once convulsively raised the chain of iron vows which bind me, a miserable wretch to the cold stones of the altar. But fasting, prayer, study, the mortifications of the cloister, rendered my soul mistress of my body once more, and then I avoided women.

Starting point is 13:56:45 Moreover, I had but to open a book, and all the impure mists of my brain vanished before the splendors of science. In a few moments I felt the gross things of earth flee far away, and I found myself once more calm, quieted, and serene, in the presence of the tranquil radiance of eternal truth. As long as the demon sent to attack me, only vague shadows of women who passed occasionally before my eyes in the church, in the streets, in the fields, and who hardly recurred to my dreams, I easily vanquished him. Alas, if the victory has not remained with me, it is the fault of God, who has not created man and the demon of equal force. Listen, one day, here the priest paused, and the prisoner

Starting point is 13:57:39 heard sighs of anguish break from his breast with a sound of the death rattle. He resumed. One day I was leaning on the window of my cell. What book was I reading then? Oh, all that is a whirlwind in my head. I was reading. The window opened upon a square. I heard a sound of tambourine and music. Annoyed at being thus disturbed in my reverie,

Starting point is 13:58:05 I glanced into the square. What I beheld, others saw beside myself, and yet it was not a spectacle made for human eyes. There, in the middle of the pavement, it was midday, the sun was shining brightly. A creature was dancing. A creature so beautiful that God would have preferred her to the Virgin and have chosen her for his mother, and have wished to be born of her if she had been in existence when he was made man. Her eyes were black and splendid. In the midst of her black locks, some hairs through which the sun shone glistened like threads of gold. Her feet disappeared in their movements like the spokes of a

Starting point is 13:58:50 rapidly turning wheel. Around her head, in her black tresses, there were discs of metal which glittered in the sun and formed a coronet of stars on her brow. Her dress, thick set with spangles, blue and dotted with a thousand sparks, gleamed like a summer night. Her brown, supple arms, twined and untwined around her waist like two scarfs. The form of her body was surprisingly beautiful. Oh, what a resplendid figure stood out, like something luminous, even in the sunlight. Alas, young girl, it was thou.

Starting point is 13:59:30 Surprised, intoxicated, charmed, I allowed myself to gaze upon thee. I looked so long that I suddenly shuddered with terror. I felt that fate was seizing hold of me." The priest paused for a moment, overcome with emotion. Then he continued, "'Already, half fascinated, I tried to cling fast to something and hold myself back from falling. I recalled the snares which Satan had already set for me.

Starting point is 14:00:05 The creature before my eyes possessed that superhuman beauty which can come only from heaven or hell. It was no simple girl made with a little of our earth, and dimly lighted within by the vacillating ray of a woman's soul. It was an angel, but of shadows and flame, and not of light. At the moment when I was meditating thus, I beheld beside you a goat, a beast of witches, which smiled as it gazed at me. The midday sun gave him golden horns. Then I perceived the snare of the demon, and I no longer doubted that you had come from hell, and that you had come thence for my perdition. I believed it. Here the priest looked the prisoner full in the face, and added coldly,

Starting point is 14:00:57 "'I believe it still. Nevertheless, the charm operated little by little. Your dancing whirl through my brain. I felt the mysterious spell. working within me. All that should have awakened was lulled to sleep, and like those who die in the snow I felt pleasure in allowing this sleep to draw on. All at once you began to sing. What could I do, unhappy wretch? Your song was still more charming than your dancing. I tried to flee. Impossible. I was nailed, rooted to the spot. It seemed to me that the marble of the pavement had risen to my knees. I was forced to remain until the end. My feet were like ice. My head was on fire. At last, you took pity on me. You ceased to sing. You disappeared. The reflection of the dazzling vision,

Starting point is 14:01:55 the reverberation of the enchantic music, disappeared by degrees from my eyes and my ears. Then I fell back into the embrasure of the window, more rigid, more feeble than a a statue torn from its base. The Vesper bell roused me. I drew myself up. I fled. But alas, something within me had fallen never to rise again. Something had come upon me from which I could not flee. He made another pause and went on.

Starting point is 14:02:30 Yes, dating from that day, there was within me a man whom I did not know. I tried to make use of all my remedies. The cloister, the altar, work, books, follies. Oh, how hollow does science sound, when one in despair dashes against it, a head full of passions. Do you know, young girl, that I saw thenceforth between my book and me? You, your shade, the image of the luminous apparition which had one day crossed the space before me.

Starting point is 14:03:07 But this image had no longer the same color. It was somber, funereal, gloomy as a black circle which long pursues the vision of the imprudent man, who has gazed intently at the sun. Unable to rid myself of it, since I heard your song humming ever in my head, beheld your feet dancing always on my breviary, felt even at night, in my dreams, your form in contact with my own. I desired to see you again, to touch you, to know who you were, to see whether I should really find you like the ideal image which I had retained of you, to shatter my dream, perchance,

Starting point is 14:03:49 with reality. At all events, I hoped that a new impression would efface the first, and the first had become insupportable. I sought you. I saw you once more. Calamity! When I had seen you twice, I wanted to see you a thousand. thousand times. I wanted to see you always. Then, how stopped myself on that slope of hell?

Starting point is 14:04:15 Then I no longer belonged to myself. The other end of the thread which the demon had attached to my wings, he had fastened to his foot. I became vagrant and wandering like yourself. I waited for you under porches. I stood on the lookout for you at the street corners. I watched for you from the summit of my tower. Every evening I returned to myself, more charmed, more despairing, more bewitched, more lost. I had learned who you were, an Egyptian, bohemian, gypsy, Zingara. How could I doubt the magic? Listen.

Starting point is 14:04:58 I hoped that a trial would free me from the charm. A witch enchanted Bruno Dust. He had her burned and was cured. I knew it. I wanted to try the remedy. First, I tried to have you forbidden the square in front of Notre Dame, hoping to forget you if you return no more. You paid no heed to it.

Starting point is 14:05:21 You returned. Then the idea of abducting you occurred to me. One night I made the attempt. There were two of us. We already had you in our power when that miserable officer came. up. He delivered you. Thus did he begin your unhappiness, mine and his own. Finally, no longer knowing what to do and what was to become of me, I denounced you to the official. I thought that I should be cured like Bruno deast. I also had a confused idea that a trial

Starting point is 14:05:59 would deliver you into my hands. That, as a prisoner, I should hold you, I should have you. you, that there you could not escape from me, that you had already possessed me a sufficiently long time to give me the right to possess you in my turn. When one does wrong, one must do it thoroughly. Tis madness to halt midway in the monstrous. The extreme of crime has its deliriums of joy. A priest and a witch can mingle in delight upon the truss of straw in a dungeon. Accordingly, I denounced you. It was then that I terrified you when we met. The plot which I was weaving against you,

Starting point is 14:06:43 the storm which I was heaping up above your head, burst from me in threats and lightning glances. Still, I hesitated. My project had its terrible sides, which made me shrink back. Perhaps I might have renounced it. Perhaps my hideous thought would have withered in my brain without bearing fruit. I thought that it would always depend upon me to follow up or discontinue this prosecution. But every evil thought is inexorable and insists on becoming a deed.

Starting point is 14:07:20 But where I believed myself to be all-powerful, fate was more powerful than I. Alas, tis fate which has seized you and delivered you to you to be all-powerful. the terrible wheels of the machine which I had constructed doubly. Listen, I am nearing the end. One day, again the sun was shining brilliantly. I behold man passed me uttering your name and laughing, who carries sensuality in his eyes. Damnation! I followed him.

Starting point is 14:07:53 You know the rest. He ceased. The young girl could find but one word. Oh, my Phoebus! "'Not that name!' said the priest, grasping her arm violently. "'Uter not that name! Oh, miserable wretches that we are! Tis that name which has ruined us! Or rather, we have ruined each other by the inexplicable play of fate. You are suffering, are you not? You are cold. The night makes you blind. The dungeon envelops

Starting point is 14:08:28 you. But perhaps you. you still have some light in the bottom of your soul, were it only your childish love for that empty man who played with your heart, while I bear the dungeon within me. Within me there is winter, ice, despair. I have night in my soul. Do you know what I have suffered? I was present at your trial. I was seated on the official's bench. Yes, under one of the priest's cowls, there were the contortions of the damned. When you were brought in, I was there. When you were questioned, I was there.

Starting point is 14:09:07 Den of wolves, it was my crime, it was my gallows, that I beheld being slowly reared over your head. I was there for every witness, every proof, every plea. I could count each of your steps in the painful path. I was still there when that ferocious beast, Oh, I had not foreseen torture. Listen, I followed you to that chamber of anguish. I beheld you stripped and handled, half-naked, by the infamous hands of the tormentor.

Starting point is 14:09:40 I beheld your foot, that foot which I would have given an empire to kiss and die, that foot beneath which to have my head crushed I should have felt such rapture. I beheld it encased in that horrible boot, which converts the limbs of a limb of a lest of a lest. living being into one bloody clawed. "'Oh, wretch, while I looked on at that, I held beneath my shroud a dagger, with which I lacerated my breast. When you uttered that cry, I plunged it into my flesh. At a second cry, it would have entered my heart. Look, I believe that it still bleeds.' He opened his cassock. His breast was in fact mangled.

Starting point is 14:10:27 as by the claw of a tiger, and on his side he had a large and badly healed wound. The prisoner recoiled with horror. "'Oh,' said the priest, "'young girl, have pity upon me! You think yourself unhappy? Alas! Alas! You know not what unhappiness is!

Starting point is 14:10:49 Oh, to love a woman, to be a priest, to be hated, to love with all the fury of one's soul, to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's vitals, one's fame, one's salvation, one's immortality and eternity, this life and the other. To regret that one is not a king, emperor, archangel, God, in order that one might place a greater slave beneath her feet. To clasp her night and day in one's dreams and one's thoughts. And one's and to behold her in love with the trappings of a soldier, and to have nothing to offer her but a priest's dirty cassock which will inspire her with fear and disgust.

Starting point is 14:11:39 To be present with one's jealousy and one's rage, while she lavishes on a miserable, blustering imbecile treasures of love and beauty, to behold that body whose form burns you, that bosom which possesses so much sweetness, that flusiness, that flue. Pelletate and blush beneath the kisses of another. Oh, heaven, to love her foot, her arm, her shoulder, to think of her blue veins, of her brown skin, until one rise for whole nights together on the pavement of one cell, and to behold all those caresses which one has dreamed of end in torture. To have succeeded only in stretching her upon the leather bed.

Starting point is 14:12:25 Oh, these are the veritable pincers, reddened in the fires of hell! Oh, blessed is he who is sawned between two planks, or torn in pieces by four horses! Do you know what that torture is, which is imposed upon you for long nights by your burning arteries, your bursting heart, your breaking head, your teeth gnawed hands? Mad tormentors, which turn you incessantly as upon a red-hot grid-iron. to a thought of love, of jealousy, and of despair. Young girl, mercy! A truce for a moment.

Starting point is 14:13:04 A few ashes on these live coals. Wipe away, I beseech you, the perspiration which trickles in great drops from my brow. Child! Torture me with one hand, but caress me with the other. Have pity, young girl! Have pity upon me!' The priest writhed on the wet pavement, beating his head against the corners of the stone steps. The young girl gazed at him and listened to him.

Starting point is 14:13:34 When he ceased, exhausted and panting, she repeated in a low voice, Oh, my phoebus! The priest dragged himself towards her on his knees. I beseech you, he cried. If you have any heart, do not repulse me. "'Oh, I love you. I am a wretch. When you utter that name unhappy girl, it is as though you crushed all the fibers of my heart between your teeth. "'Mercy. If you come from hell, I will go thither with you. I have done everything to that end. "'The hell where you are shall be paradise. The sight of you is more charming than that of God.

Starting point is 14:14:21 "'Oh, speak, you will have none of me.' I should have thought the mountains would be shaken in their foundations on the day when a woman would repulse such a love. Oh, if you only would. Oh, how happy we might be. We would flee. I would help you to flee. We would go somewhere. We would seek that spot on earth, where the sun is brightest, the sky is bluest, where the trees are most luxuriant. We would love each other. We would pour our tools. souls into each other, and we would have a thirst for ourselves which we would quench in common and incessantly at the fountain of inexhaustible love." She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh.

Starting point is 14:15:10 "'Look, father, you have blood on your fingers!' The priest remained for several moments as though petrified, with his eyes fixed upon his hand. "'Well, yes,' he resumed at last, with his strange gentleness. Insult me, scoff at me, overwhelm me with scorn. But come, come! Let us make haste. It is to be to-morrow, I tell you.

Starting point is 14:15:37 The gibbet on the greve, you know it? It stands always ready. It is horrible to see you ride in that tumble. Oh, mercy, until now I have never felt the power of my love for you. Oh, follow me. You shall take your time to love me after I have saved. saved you. You shall hate me as long as you will. But come, tomorrow, tomorrow, the gallows, your execution. Oh, save yourself, spare me!' He seized her arm, and he was beside himself.

Starting point is 14:16:11 He tried to drag her away. She fixed her eye intently on him. What has become of my Phoebus? Ah, said the priest, releasing her arm. You are pitiless. What has become of Phoebus? she repeated coldly. "'He is dead!' cried the priest. "'Dead,' said she, still icy and motionless. "'Then why do you talk to me of living?' He was not listening to her.

Starting point is 14:16:44 "'Oh, yes,' said he, as though speaking to himself. "'He certainly must be dead. The blade pierced deeply. I believe I touched his heart with the point. Oh, my very soul was at the end of the dagger. The young girl flung herself upon him like a raging Tigris, and pushed him upon the steps of the staircase with supernatural force. Be gone, monster! Be gone, assassin! Leave me to die!

Starting point is 14:17:13 May the blood of both of us make an eternal stain upon your brow. Be thine, priest! Never! Never! shall unite us, not hell itself. Go, a cursed man! Never! The priest had stumbled on the stairs. He silently disentangled his feet from the folds of his robe, picked up his lantern again, and slowly began the ascent of the steps which led to the door. He opened the door and passed through it. All at once the young girl beheld his head

Starting point is 14:17:47 reappear. It wore a frightful expression, and he cried, horse with wringhammed. rage and despair, "'I tell you, he is dead!' she fell, face downwards upon the floor, and there was no longer any sound audible in the cell than the sob of the drop of water which made the pool palpitate amid the darkness. End of Book 8, Chapter 4. Book 8, Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 14:18:35 Book 8 Chapter 5 The Mother I do not believe that there is anything sweeter in the world than the ideas which awaken a mother's heart at the sight of her child's tiny shoe. Especially if it is a shoe for festivals, for Sunday, for baptism, the shoe embroidered to the very soul, a shoe in which the infant has not yet taken a step. That shoe has so much grace and daintiness. It is so impossible for it to walk that it seems to the mother as though she saw her child. She smiles upon it. She kisses it.

Starting point is 14:19:22 She talks to it. She asks herself whether there can actually be a foot so tiny. And if the child be absent, the pretty shoe suffices to place the sweet and fragile creature before her eyes. She thinks she sees it. She does see it, complete, living, joyous, with its delicate hands, its round head, its pure lips, its serene eyes whose white is blue. If it is in winter, it is yonder, crawling on the carpet.

Starting point is 14:19:57 It is laboriously climbing upon an ottoman, and the mother trembles, lest it should approach the fire. If it is summertime, it crawls about the yard, in the garden, plucks up the grass between the paving stones, gazes innocently at the big dogs, the big horses, without fear, plays with the shells, with the flowers, and makes the gardener grumble because he finds sand in the flower-beds and earth in the paths.

Starting point is 14:20:28 Everything laughs and shines and plays around it, like it. even the breath of air and the ray of sun which vie with each other in disporting among the silky ringlets of its hair. The shoe shows all this to the mother and makes her heart melt as fire melts. But when the child is lost, these thousand images of joy, of charms, of tenderness, which throng around the little shoe, becomes so many horrible things. broidered shoe is no longer anything but an instrument of torture, which eternally crushes the heart of the mother. It is always the same fiber which vibrates the tenderest and most sensitive, but instead of an angel caressing it, it is a demon who is wrenching at it.

Starting point is 14:21:24 One May morning, when the sun was rising on one of those dark blue skies, against which Garofalo loves to place his descents from the cross, the recluse of the Tour Hollande heard a sound of wheels, of horses and irons in the Plastagreb. She was somewhat aroused by it, nodding her hair upon her ears in order to deafen herself, and resumed her contemplation on her knees of the inanimate object which she had adored for fifteen years. This little shoe was the universe to her, as we have already said. Her thought was shut up in it, and was destined never more to quit it, except at death. The somber cave of the Tour Hollande alone knew how many bitter imprecations, touching complaints, prayers, and sobs she had wafted to heaven in connection with that

Starting point is 14:22:22 charming bobble of a rose-colored satin. Never was more despair bestowed upon a prettier and more graceful thing. It seemed as though her grief were breaking forth more violently than usual, and she could be heard outside, lamenting in a loud and monotonous voice which rent the heart. "'Oh, my daughter,' she said, "'my daughter, my poor dear little child, so I shall never see thee more. It is over. It always seems to me that.

Starting point is 14:22:59 that it happened yesterday. My God, my God, it would have been better not to give her to me than to take her away so soon. Did you not know that our children are part of ourselves, and that a mother who has lost her child no longer believes in God? Ah, wretch that I am to have gone out that day! Lord, Lord, to have taken her from me thus. You could never have looked at me with her when I was joyously warming her at my fire,

Starting point is 14:23:40 when she laughed as she suckled, when I made her tiny feet creep up my breast to my lips. Oh, if you had looked at that, my God, you would have taken pity on my joy. You would not have taken from me the only love which lingered in my heart. Was I then, Lord, so miserable a creature that you could not look at me before condemning me? Alas! Alas! Here is the shoe. Where is the foot? Where is the rest? Where is the child? My daughter, my daughter!

Starting point is 14:24:24 What did they do with thee? Lord, give her back to me. My knees have been worn for fifteen years and praying to thee, my God. Is not that enough? Give her back to me one day, one hour, one minute, one minute, Lord, and then cast me to the demon for all eternity. Oh, if I only know, knew where the skirt of your garment trails, I would cling to it with both hands, and you would

Starting point is 14:25:02 be obliged to give me back my child. Have you no pity on her pretty little shoe? Could you condemn a poor mother to this torture for fifteen years? Good virgin, good virgin of heaven! My infant Jesus has been taken from me, has been stolen from me. Has been stolen from me. They devoured her on a heath. They drank her blood. They cracked her bones. Good virgin, have pity upon me. My daughter, I want my daughter. What is it to me that she is in paradise? I do not want your angel. I want my child. I am a lioness. I want my whelp. Oh, I will writhe on the earth, I will break the stones with my forehead, and I will damn myself, and I will curse you, Lord, if you keep my child from me. You see plainly that my arms are all bidden, Lord? Has the good God no mercy?

Starting point is 14:26:13 Oh, give me only salt and black bread, only let me have my daughter to warm me like a son. Alas, Lord my God, alas, Lord my God, I am only a vile sinner. But my daughter made me pious. I was full of religion for the love of her, and I beheld you through her smile as though went opening into heaven. Oh, if I could only once, just once more, a single time, Put this shoe on her pretty little pink foot, I would die blessing you, good virgin. Ah, fifteen years! She will be grown up now, unhappy child.

Starting point is 14:27:07 What? It is really true, then, I shall never see her more, not even in heaven, for I shall not go there myself. Oh, what a misery to think that here is her shoe, and that that is all!" The unhappy woman flung herself upon that shoe, her consolation and her despair for so many years, and her vitals were rent with sobs as on the first day, because for a mother who has lost her child, it is always the first day. That grief never grows old. The morning garments may grow white and threadbare. The heart remains dark."

Starting point is 14:27:55 At that moment the fresh and joyous cries of children passed in front of the cell. Every time that children crossed her vision or struck her ear, the poor mother flung herself into the darkest corner of her sepulchre, and one would have said that she sought to plunge her head into the stone in order not to hear them. This time, on the contrary, she drew herself upright with a start, and listened eagerly. One of the little boys had just said, "'They're going to hang a gypsy to-day!' With the abrupt leap of that spider, which we have seen fling itself upon a fly at the trembling of its web, she rushed to her air-hole, which opened, as the reader knows, on the plaster greve.

Starting point is 14:28:42 A ladder had, in fact, been raised up against the permanent gibbet, and the hangman's assistant was busing himself with adjusting the chains which had been rusted by the rain. There were some people standing about. The laughing group of children was already far away. The sacked nun sought with her eyes some passer-by whom she might question. All at once, beside her cell, she perceived a priest making a pretext of reading the public Breviary, but who was much less occupied with the lectern of Laddest Iron than with the gallows, toward which he cast a fierce and gloomy glance from time to time.

Starting point is 14:29:25 She recognized Monsieur, the Archdeacon of José, a holy man. Father, she inquired, whom are they about to hang yonder? The priest looked at her and made no reply. She repeated her question. Then he said, "'I know not.' "'Some children said that it was a gypsy,' went on the recluse. "'I believe so,' said the priest. Then Packette La Chant-Flourri burst into hyena-like laughter.

Starting point is 14:30:00 "'Sister,' said the archdeacon, "'do you then hate the gypsies heartily?' "'Do I hate them?' exclaimed the recluse. "'They are vampires, Stealers of children! They devoured my little daughter, my child, my only child. I have no longer any heart. They devoured it. She was frightful. The priest looked at her coldly. There is one in particular whom I hate, and whom I have cursed, she resumed. It is a young one of the age which my daughter would be, if her might.

Starting point is 14:30:44 had not eaten my daughter. Every time that that young viper passes in front of my cell, she sets my blood in a ferment. Well, sister, rejoice, said the priest, I see as a sepulchral statue. That is the one whom you are about to see die. His head fell upon his bosom, and he moved slowly away. The recluse writhed her arms with joy. I predicted it for her that she would ascend thither. Thang's priest, she cried, and she began to pace up and down with long strides

Starting point is 14:31:27 before the grating of her window. Her hair disheveled, her eyes flashing, with her shoulder striking against the wall, with the wild air of a female wolf in a cage, who has long been famished. and who feels the hour for her repast, drawing near. End of Book 8, Chapter 5. Book 8, Chapter 6, of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.

Starting point is 14:32:01 This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 8, Chapter 6. Three human hearts differently constructed. Phoebus was not dead, however. men of that stamp die hard. When Master Philippe Lullier, advocate extraordinary of the king, had said to poor Esmeralda, He is dying, it was an error or a jest.

Starting point is 14:32:31 When the archdeacon had repeated to the condemned girl, He is dead. The fact is that he knew nothing about it, but that he believed it, that he counted on it, that he did not doubt it, that he devoutly hoped it, It would have been too hard for him to give up favorable news of his rival to the woman whom he loved. Any man would have done the same in his place.

Starting point is 14:32:57 It was not that Phoebus's wound had not been serious, but it had not been as much so as the archdeacon believed. The physician, to whom the soldiers of the watch had carried him at the first moment, had feared for his life during the space of a week, and had even told him so in Latin. But youth had gained the upper hand, and, as frequently happens, in spite of prognostications and diagnoses, nature had amused herself by saving the sick man under the physician's very nose. It was while he was still lying on the leech's palate that he had submitted to the interrogations of Philippe Lullier and the official inquisitors, which had annoyed him greatly. Hence, one fine morning, feeling himself better, he had left his golden spurs with the leech

Starting point is 14:33:49 as payment, and had slipped away. This had not, however, interfered with the progress of the affair. Justice, at that epoch, troubled itself very little about the clearness and definiteness of a criminal suit. Provided that the accused was hung, that was all that was necessary. Now the judge had plenty of proofs against La Asmerelda. They had supposed Phoebus to be dead, and that was the end of the matter. Phoebus, on his side, had not fled far.

Starting point is 14:34:25 He had simply rejoined his company in garrison at Cue-Anbris, in the Isle de France a few stages from Paris. After all, it did not please him in the least to appear in this suit. He had a vague feeling that he should play a ridiculous figure in it. On the whole, he did not know what to think of the whole affair. Superstitious, and not given to devoutness, like every soldier who is only a soldier, when he came to question himself about this adventure, he did not feel assured as to the goat, as to the singular fashion in which he had met La

Starting point is 14:35:03 La Asmerelda, as to the no less strange manner in which he had allowed him to divine her love, as to her character as a gypsy, and lastly, as to the surly monk. He perceived in all these incidents much more magic than love, probably a sorceress, perhaps the devil, a comedy in short, or to speak in the language of that day, a very disagreeable mystery, in which he played a very awkward part, the role of blows and derision. The captain was quite put out of countenance about it. He experienced that sort of shame which our La Fontaine has so admirably defined, ashamed as a fox who has been caught by a foul.

Starting point is 14:35:52 Moreover, he hoped that the affair would not get noised abroad, that his name would hardly be pronounced in it, and that in any case it would not go beyond the courts of the Tournell. In this he was not. mistaken. There was then no Gazette de Tribano, and as not a week past which had not its counterfeiter to boil, or its witch to hang, or its heretic to burn, at some one of the innumerable justices of Paris, people were so accustomed to seeing in all the squares of the ancient feudal thamy, bare-armed, with sleeve stripped up, performing her duty at the gibbets, the ladders,

Starting point is 14:36:33 and the pillories, that they hardly paid any heed. to it. Fashionable society of that day hardly knew the name of the victim who passed by at the corner of the street, and it was the populace at the most who regaled themselves with this coarse fare. An execution was an habitual incident of the public highways, like the brazing pan of the baker, or the slaughterhouse of the knacker. The executioner was only a sort of butcher of a little deeper dye than the rest. Hence, Phoebus's mind was soon at ease on the score of the enchantress as Maralda, or similar, as he called her, concerning the blow from the dagger of the Bohemian or of the

Starting point is 14:37:21 surly monk. It mattered little which to him, and as to the issue of the trial. But as soon as his heart was vacant in that direction, Fleur de Lee returned to it. Captain Phoebus's heart, like the physics of that day, aboard a vacuum. Cue Ambri was a very insipid place to stay at then, a village of ferriers, and cowgirls with chapped hands, a long line of poor dwellings and thatched cottages, which borders on the Grand Road on both sides for half a league. A tale, Q, in short, as its name imports.

Starting point is 14:38:02 Flour de Lee was his last passion but one, a pretty girl, a charming dowry. Accordingly, one fine morning, quite cured, and assuming that, after the lapse of two months, the Bohemian affair must be completely finished and forgotten, the amorous cavalier arrived on a prancing horse at the door of the Gandolourier mansion. He paid no attention to a tolerably numerous rabble which had assembled in the Place du Parve, before the portal of Notre Dame. He remembered that it was the month of May. He supposed that it was some procession, some Pentecost,

Starting point is 14:38:41 some festival, hitched his horse to the ring at the door, and gaily ascended the stairs to his beautiful betrothed. She was alone with her mother. The scene of the witch, her goat, her cursed alphabet, and Phoebus' long absences still weighed on Fleur de Lis's heart. Nevertheless, when she beheld her Captain Nenter, she thought him so handsome, his doublet so new, his baldric so shining, and his air so impassioned, that she blushed with pleasure. The noble damsel herself was more charming than ever. Her magnificent blonde hair was

Starting point is 14:39:20 plaited in a ravishing manner. She was dressed entirely in that sky blue, which becomes fair people so well. A bit of coquetry, which she had learned from Cologne, and her eyes were swimming in that languor of love, which becomes them still better. Phoebus, who had seen nothing in the line of beauty, since he left the village maids of Cue and Brie, was intoxicated with Flour de Lee, which imparted to our officer so eager and gallant an air, that his peace was immediately made. Manab de Gandollarié herself, still maternally seated in her big arm-chair, had not the heart

Starting point is 14:39:59 to scold him. As for Fleur de Lis' reproaches, they expired in tender cooings. The young girl was seated near the window, still embroidering her grotto of Neptune. The captain was leaning over the back of her chair, and she was addressing her caressing reproaches to him in a low voice. "'What has become of you these two long months, wicked man?' "'I swear to you,' replied Feart. us, somewhat embarrassed by the question, that you are beautiful enough to set an archbishop to dreaming. She could not repress a smile. Good, good, sir, let my beauty alone and answer my question, a fine beauty in sooth.

Starting point is 14:40:50 Well, my dear cousin, I was recalled to the garrison. And where is that, if you please? And why did not you come to say farewell. At Cue-on-Bree. Phoebus was delighted with the first question, which helped him to avoid the second. But that is quite close by, Monsieur. Why did you not come to see me a single time? Here Phoebus was rather seriously embarrassed.

Starting point is 14:41:24 Because, the service, and then, charming cousin, I have been ill. "'Ill,' she repeated in alarm. "'Yes, wounded. Wounded!' "'She, poor child, was completely upset. "'Oh, do not be frightened at that,' said Phoebus, carelessly. "'It was nothing. A quarrel, a sword-cut. "'What is that to you?' "'What is that to me?' exclaimed Flour de Lee,

Starting point is 14:41:57 raising her beautiful eyes filled with tears. Oh, you do not say what you think when you speak thus. What sword-cut was that? I wish to know all. Well, my dear, fair one, I had a falling out with Mahé Fadi, you know, the lieutenant of Saint-Germain-on-Laye, and re-ripped out a few inches of skin for each other. That is all. The mendacious captain was perfectly well aware that an affair of honor always makes a man stand well in the eyes of a woman. In fact, Flour de Lee looked him full in the face, all agitated with fear, pleasure, and admiration.

Starting point is 14:42:42 Still, she was not completely reassured. "'Provited that you are wholly cured, my Phoebus,' said she, I do not know your Ma'e Fedi, but he is a villainous man, and whence arose this quarrel. Here Phoebus, whose imagination was endowed with but mediocre power of creation, began to find himself in a quandary as to a means of extricating himself for his prowess. Oh, how do I know, a mere nothing, a horse, a remark. Their cousin, he exclaimed. for the sake of changing the conversation,

Starting point is 14:43:23 "'What noise is this in the cathedral square?' He approached the window. "'Oh, mon dieu, fair cousin, how many people there are on the plus?' "'I know not,' said Fleur de Lee. "'It appears that a witch is to do penance this morning before the church, and thereafter to be hung.' The captain was so thoroughly persuaded that La Asmoralda's affair was concluded that he was but little disturbed by Fleur-Delie's words.

Starting point is 14:43:54 Still, he asked her one or two questions. "'What is the name of this witch?' "'I do not know,' she replied. "'And what is she said to have done?' She shrugged her white shoulders. "'I know not.' "'Oh, mon dieu, Jesus,' said her mother, "'there are so many witches nowadays

Starting point is 14:44:17 that I dare say they burn them without knowing their names. One might as well seek the name of every cloud in the sky. After all, one may be tranquil. The good God keeps his register. Here the venerable Dom rose and came to the window. Good Lord, you are right, Phoebus, said she. The rabble is indeed great. There are people on all the roofs, bless be God. Do you know, Phoebus? This reminds me of my best days, the entrance of King Sharrow the seventh, when also there were many people. I no longer remember in what year that was. When I speak of this to you, it produces upon you the effect, does it not, the effect

Starting point is 14:45:04 of something very old, and upon me of something very young. Oh, the crowd was far finer than at the present day. They even stood upon the maculations of the Portes Saint-Atoine. The king had the queen on a pillion, and after their highnesses came, all the ladies mounted behind all the lords. I remember that they laughed loudly, because, beside Emignon de Garland, who was very short of stature, there rode the Sir Montefelon, a chevalier of gigantic size, who had killed heaps of English. It was very fine, a procession of all the gentlemen of France with their oriflam

Starting point is 14:45:52 waving red before the eye. There were some with pennons and some with banners. How can I tell? The seer-de-combe with a pennon, Jean de Chautmorent with a banner, the sieur de Courcy with a banner, and a more ample one than any of the others except the Duke de Bourbon. Alas, tis a sad thing to think that all that has existed and exists no longer." The two lovers were not listening to the venerable dowager. Phoebus had returned and was leaning on the back of his betrothed's chair, a charming post whence his libertine glance plunged into all the openings of Fleur de Lise's Gorge. This Gaped so conveniently, and allowed him to see so many exquisite things

Starting point is 14:46:43 and to divine so many more, that Phoebus, dazzled by this skin with its gleams of satin, said to himself, How can anyone love anything but a fair skin? Both were silent. The young girl raised sweet and raptured eyes to him from time to time, and their hair mingled in a ray of spring sunshine. Phoebus, said Flour de Lee suddenly in a low voice, We are to be married three months hence.

Starting point is 14:47:16 Swear to me that you have never loved any other woman than myself. I swear it, fair angel, replied Phoebus, and his passionate glances aided the sincere tone of his voice in convincing Flourdeley. Meanwhile, the good mother, charmed to see the betrothed pair in terms of such perfect understanding, had just quitted the apartment to attend to some domestic matter. Phoebus observed it, and this so emboldened the adventurous captain that very strange ideas mounted to his brain.

Starting point is 14:47:57 Flour de Lee loved him. He was her betrothed. She was alone with him. His former taste for her had reawakened. not with all its freshness, but with all its ardor. After all, there is no great harm in tasting one's wheat while it is still in the blade. I do not know whether these ideas passed through his mind, but one thing is certain that Fleur-de-Lee was suddenly alarmed by the expression of his glance.

Starting point is 14:48:30 She looked round and saw that her mother was no longer there. "'Good heavens!' said she. blushing and uneasy. How very warm I am! I think, in fact, replied Phoebus, that it cannot be far from midday. The sun is troublesome. We need only lower the curtains.

Starting point is 14:48:56 No, no, exclaimed the poor little thing. On the contrary, I need air. And, like a fawn who feels the breath of the pack of hounds, she rose, ran to the window, opened it, and rushed upon the balcony. Phoebus, much discomfited, followed her. The place to Parvee Notre Dame, upon which the balcony looked, as the reader knows, presented at that moment a singular and sinister spectacle, which caused the fright of the timid fleur-de-li to change its nature.

Starting point is 14:49:32 An immense crowd, which overflowed into all the neighboring streets, encumbered the plas, properly speaking. The little wall, breast-high, which surrounded the plass, would not have sufficed to keep it free had it not been lined with a thick hedge of sergeants and huckpeteers, culverines in hand. Thanks to this thicket of pikes and arquebuses, the parvee was empty. Its entrance was guarded by a force of halberdiers, with the armorial bearings of the bishop.

Starting point is 14:50:03 The large doors of the church were closed, and formed a contrast with the innumerable windows on the place, which, open to their very gables, allowed a view of thousands of heads, heaped up almost like the piles of bullets in a park of artillery. The surface of this rabble was dingy, dirty, earthy. The spectacle which it was expecting was evidently one of the sort which possessed the privilege of bringing out

Starting point is 14:50:31 and calling together the vilest among the populace. Nothing is so hideous as the noise which was made by that swarm of yellow caps and dirty heads. In that throng there were more laughs than cries, more women than men. From time to time a sharp and vibrating voice pierced the general clamor. Away, Mahie, balifrey! Is she to be hung yonder? Fool, tis here that she is to make her apology in her shift. The good God is going to cough Latin in her fift. face. That is always done here at midday. If tis the gallows that you wish, go to the greve.

Starting point is 14:51:13 I will go there afterwards. Tell me, La Bucambri. Is it true that she has refused a confess her? It appears so, La Bachan. You see what a pagan she is. Tis the custom, monsieur. The bailiff of the courts is bound to deliver the malfactor ready judged for execution, if he be a layman, to the provost of Paris, if a clerk, to the official of the bishopric. Thank you, sir. Oh, God, said Flordali, the poor creature. This thought filled with sadness the glance which he cast upon the populace.

Starting point is 14:51:54 The captain, much more occupied with her than with that pack of the rabble, was amorously rumpling her girdle behind. She turned round, entreating, and smiling. "'Please let me alone, Phoebus. If my mother were to return, she would see your hand.' At that moment midday rang slowly out from the clock of Notre Dame. A murmur of satisfaction broke out in the crowd. The last vibration of the twelfth stroke had hardly died away

Starting point is 14:52:25 when all heads surged like the waves beneath the squall, and an immense shout went up from the page. the windows and the roofs. There she is! Flour de Lee pressed her hands to her eyes, that she might not see. Charming girl, said Phoebus, do you wish to withdraw? No, she replied, and she opened through curiosity, the eyes which she had closed through fear. A tumbril, drawn by a stout Norman horse, and all surrounded by cavalry and violet livery with

Starting point is 14:52:59 white crosses had just debouched upon the place through the rue Saint-Pierre-aubeufs. The sergeants of the watch were clearing a passage for it through the crowd by stout blows from their clubs. Beside the cart wrote several officers of justice and police, recognizable by their black costume and their awkwardness in the saddle. Master Jacques Charmelo paraded at their head. In the fatal cart sat a young girl with her arms tied behind her back, and with no priest beside her. She was in her shift. Her long black hair, the fashion then was to cut it off only at the foot of the gallows, fell in disorder upon her half-beared throat and shoulders.

Starting point is 14:53:45 Athwart that waving hair, more glossy than the plumage of a raven, a thick, rough grey rope was visible, twisted and nodded, chafing her delicate collar-bones, and twining round the charming neck of the poor girl, like an earthworm round a flower. Beneath that rope glittered a tiny amulet, ornamented with bits of green glass, which had been left to her, no doubt, because nothing is refused to those who are about to die. The spectators in the windows could see in the bottom of the cart her naked legs which she strove to hide beneath her, as by a final feminine instinct. At her feet lay a little goat, bound. The condemned girl held together with her teeth her imperfectly fastened shift.

Starting point is 14:54:30 One would have said that she suffered still more in her misery from being thus exposed, almost naked to the eyes of all. Alas, modesty is not made for such shocks. "'Jesus,' said Fleur de Lee hastily to the captain, "'look fair, cousin, tis that wretched bohemian with the goat!' So saying she turned to Phoebus. His eyes were fixed on the tumbril. He was very pale.

Starting point is 14:54:58 "'What, Bohemian with the goat?' he stammered. "'What,' resumed Fleur-de-Lee. "'Do you not remember?' "'Foebus interrupted her. "'I do not know what you mean.' He made a step to re-enter the room, but Fleur-de-Lee, whose jealousy, previously so vividly aroused by this same gypsy, had just been reawakened. Flourdeley gave him a look full of penetration and distrust.

Starting point is 14:55:27 She vaguely recalled at that moment having heard of a captain mixed up in the trial of that witch. "'What is the matter with you?' she said to Phoebus. One would say that this woman had disturbed you. "'Phebus forced a sneer. "'Me? Not the least in the world. Ah, yes, certainly.' "'Remain, then,' she continued imperiously, "'and let us see the end.' The unlucky captain was obliged to remain. He was somewhat reassured by the fact

Starting point is 14:56:02 that the condemned girl never removed her eyes from the bottom of the cart. It was but too surely La Esmeralda. In this last stage of opprobrium and misfortune, she was still beautiful. Her great black eyes appeared still larger, because of the emaciation of her cheeks. Her pale profile was pure and sublime. She resembled what she had been,

Starting point is 14:56:28 in the same degree that a virgin by Masaccio resembles a virgin of Raphael, weaker, thinner, more delicate. Moreover, there was nothing in her which was not shaken in some sort, and which, with the exception of her modesty, she did not let go at will, so profoundly had she been broken by stupor and despair. Her body bounded at every jolt of the tumbril, like a dead or broken thing.

Starting point is 14:56:58 Her gaze was dull and imbecile. A tear was still visible in her eyes, but motionless and frozen, so to speak. Meanwhile, the lugubrious cavalcade has traversed the crowd amid cries of joy and curious attitudes. But as a faithful hymn, historian, we must state that on beholding her so beautiful, so depressed, many were moved with pity, even among the hardest of them. The tumbril had entered the parvee. It halted before the central

Starting point is 14:57:31 portal. The escort ranged themselves in line on both sides. The crowd became silent, and, in the midst of this silence, full of anxiety and solemnity, the two leaves of the grand door swung back, as of themselves on their hinges, which gave a creek like the sound of a fife. Then there became visible in all its length the deep gloomy church, hung in black, sparely lighted with a few candles gleaming afar off on the principal altar, opened in the midst of the place which was dazzling with light, like the mouth of a cavern. At the very extremity, in the gloom of the apse, a gigantic silver cross was visible against a black drapery, which hung from the vault to the pavement.

Starting point is 14:58:19 The whole nave was deserted, but a few heads of priests could be seen moving confusedly in the distant choir stalls, and at the moment when the great door opened there escaped from the church a loud, solemn and monotonous chanting, which cast over the head of the condemned girl in gusts, fragments of melancholy psalms. Non timibo, millia popule circumdance me, exerge domene, Solvum me fact deus

Starting point is 14:58:51 Salvo me fact deus, coniam interveront acoe esco ad animam miam mien, infaxus sum in limo profondi and nonest substantia. At the same time, another voice, separate from the choir, intoned upon the steps of the chief altar this melancholy

Starting point is 14:59:16 offeratory. "'Ki verbum meum audeat and credit ee'e'e missit me, hebit vitum o'-ternam and in juste'n't in justice'n't, said transit em'-vitae im vitam. He that he that heareth my word and believeth in him that sent me hath eternal life, and hath not come into condemnation, but has passed from death to life. This chant, which a few old men buried in the gloom, sang from afar over that beautiful creature, full of youth and life, caressed by the warm air of spring,

Starting point is 14:59:56 inundated with sunlight, was the mass for the dead. The people listened devoutly. The unhappy girl seemed to lose her sight and her consciousness in the obscure interior of the church. Her white lips moved as though in prayer, and the headsman's assistant, who approached to assist her to alight from the cart, heard her repeating this word in a low tone. Phoebus. They untied her hands, made her alight, accompanied by her goat, which had also been unbound,

Starting point is 15:00:29 and which bleated with joy at finding itself free. And they made her walk barefoot on the hard pavement to the foot of the steps leading to the door. The rope about her neck trailed behind her. One would have said it was a serpent following her. Then the chanting in the church ceased. A great golden cross and a row of wax candles began to move through the gloom. The halberds of the motley beetles clanked, and a few moments later a long procession of priests in chascibles and deacons and Dalmatics marched gravely towards the condemned girl, as they drawled their song, spread out before her view and that of the crowd. But her glance rested on the one who marched at the

Starting point is 15:01:13 head, immediately after the cross-bearer. "'Oh,' she said in a low voice and with a shudder, "'tis he again, the priest!' It was, in fact, the archdeacon. On his left he had the sub-chanter, on his right the chanter, armed with his official wand. He advanced with head thrown back, his eyes fixed, and wide open, intoning in a strong voice. Deventre inferi clamavi, et exaudiste voachim meum, and projachiste me in profoundum in cordemans, at flumem circumdied me. Out of the belly of hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice,

Starting point is 15:01:59 for thou hast cast me into the deep in the midst of the seas, and the floods compassed me about. At the moment when he made his appearance in the full daylight beneath the lofty arched portal, enveloped in an ample cope of silver barred with a black cross, he was so pale that more than one person in the crowd thought that one of the marble bishops who knelt on the sepulchral stones of the choir had risen and was come to receive upon the brink of the tomb the woman who was about to die. She, no less pale, no less like a statue, had been a had hardly noticed that they had placed in her hand a heavy lighted candle of yellow wax. She had not heard the yelping voice of the clerk reading the fatal contents of the apology. When they

Starting point is 15:02:46 told her to respond with Amen, she responded, Amen. She only recovered life and force when she beheld the priest make a sign to her guards to withdraw, and himself advance alone towards her. Then she felt her blood boil in her head, and a remnant of indignant of indivorice indignation flashed up in that soul already benumbed and cold. The archdeacon approached her slowly. Even in that extremity, she beheld him cast an eye sparkling with sensuality, jealousy, and desire over her exposed form. Then he said aloud,

Starting point is 15:03:23 "'Young girl, have you asked God's pardon for your faults and shortcomings?' He bent down to her ear and added, the spectator supposed that he was receiving her last confession. "'Will you have me? I can still save you.' She looked intently at him. "'Be gone, demon, or I will denounce you!' He gave vent to a horrible smile. "'You will not be believed. You will only add a scandal to a crime.

Starting point is 15:03:56 Reply, will you have me?' "'What have you done with my Phoebus?' "'He is dead,' said the priest. At that moment the wretched archdeacon raised his head mechanically and beheld at the other end of the place, in the balcony of the gondolier mansion, the captain standing beside Fleur de Lee. He staggered, passed his hand across his eyes, looked again, muttered a curse, and all his features were violently contorted.

Starting point is 15:04:29 "'Well, die then!' He hissed between his teeth. No one shall have you. Then, raising his hand over the gypsy, he exclaimed in a funereal voice, "'I nonch aneme anseps et sit tiby deus mcenichors. Go now soul, trembling in the balance, and God have mercy upon thee.' This was the dread formula with which it was the custom to conclude these gloomy ceremonies. It was the signal agreed upon between the priest and the executioner.

Starting point is 15:05:07 The crowd knelt. Currier Eleson, said the priests, who would remain beneath the arch of the portal. Lord have mercy upon us. Currier Eleason, repeated the throng in that murmur which runs over all heads like the waves of a troubled sea. Amen, said the archdeacon. He turned his back to the condemned girl,

Starting point is 15:05:31 His head sank upon his breast once more. He crossed his hands and rejoined his escort of priests, and a moment later he was seen to disappear with the cross, the candles, and the copse, beneath the misty arches of the cathedral, and his sonorous voice was extinguished by degrees in the choir, as he chanted this verse of despair. Omnes gurgates tu'et fluctos tu'es super me transerient. All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me. At the same time, the intermittent clash of the iron butts of the Beatles' halberds,

Starting point is 15:06:09 gradually dying away among the columns of the nave, produced the effect of a clock-hammer striking the last hour of the condemned. The doors of Notre Dame remained open, allowing a view of the empty, desolate church, draped in mourning, without candles and without voices. The condemned girl remained motionless in her place, waiting to be disposed of. One of the sergeants of police was obliged to notify Master Charmolu of the fact, as the latter during this entire scene had been engaged in studying the Ba relief of the Grand Portal, which represents, according to some, the sacrifice of Abraham, according to others, the philosopher's

Starting point is 15:06:51 alchemical operation, the sun being figured forth by the angel, the fire by the faggot, the artisan, by Abraham. There was considerable difficulty in drawing him away from that contemplation, but at length he turned round, and at a signal which he gave, two men, clad in yellow, the executioner's assistants, approached the gypsy to bind her hands once more. The unhappy creature, at the moment of mounting once again the fatal cart and proceeding to her last halting-place, was seized, possibly with some poignant, clean. clinging to life. She raised her dry red eyes to heaven, to the sun, to the silvery clouds, cut here and there by a blue trapezium or triangle, then she lowered them to objects around

Starting point is 15:07:38 her, to the earth, the throng, the houses. All at once, while the yellow man was binding her elbows, she uttered a terrible cry, a cry of joy. Yonder, on that balcony, at the corner of the place, she had just caught sight of him, of her friend, her lord Phoebus, the other apparition of her life. The judge had lied, the priest had lied. It was certainly he, she could not doubt it. He was there, handsome, alive, dressed in his brilliant uniform, his plume on his head, his sword by his side. "'Phibus!' she cried. "'My Phoebus!' And she tried to stretch toward him arms, trembling with love and rapture, but they were bound. Then she saw the captain frown, a beautiful young girl, who was leaning against him,

Starting point is 15:08:33 gazed at him with disdainful lips and irritated eyes. Then Phoebus uttered some words which did not reach her, and both disappeared precipitately behind the window opening upon the balcony, which closed after them. "'Phebus!' she cried. wildly. Can it be you believe it? A monstrous thought had just presented itself to her. She remembered that she had been condemned to death for murder committed on the person of Phoebus to Chateaupe. She had borne up until that moment, but this last blow was too harsh. She fell lifeless on the pavement. "'Come,' said Charmolu, carry her to the cart and make an end of

Starting point is 15:09:20 it. No one had yet observed in the gallery of the statues of the kings, carved directly above the arches of the portal, a strange spectator, who had, up to that time, observed everything with such impassiveness, with a neck so strained, a visage so hideous, that in his motley accoutrement of red and violet he might have been taken for one of those stone monsters, through whose mouths the long gutters of the cathedral have discharged their waters for six hundred years. This spectator had missed nothing that had taken place since midday, in front of the portal of Notre Dame. And at the very beginning he had securely fastened to one of the small columns a large knotted rope, one end of which trailed on the flight of steps below.

Starting point is 15:10:09 This being done, he began to look on tranquilly, whistling from time to time when a blackbird flitted past. Suddenly, at the moment when the superintendent's assistants were preparing to execute Charmolu's phlegmatic order, he threw his leg over the balustrade of the gallery, seized the rope with his feet, his knees, and his hands. Then he was seen to glide down the façade as a drop of rain slips down a window-pane, rush to the two executioners with the swiftness of a cat which has fallen from a roof, knock them down with two enormous fists, pick up the gypsy with one hand, as a child would her doll, and dashed back into the church with a single bound, lifting the young girl above his head and crying in a formidable voice,

Starting point is 15:10:56 "'Sanctuary!' This was done with such rapidity that had it taken place at night, the whole of it could have been seen in the space of a single flash of lightning. "'Sanctuary! Sanctuary!' repeated the crowd, and the clapping of ten thousand hands made Quasimodo's single eye sparkle with joy and pride. This shock restored the condemned girl to her senses. She raised her eyelids, looked at Quasimodo, then closed them again suddenly, as though terrified by her deliverer. Charmolu was stupefied, as well as the executioners and the entire escort. In fact, within the

Starting point is 15:11:38 bounds of Notre Dame, the condemned girl could not be touched. The cathedral was a place of Refuge. All temporal jurisdiction expired upon its threshold. Quasimodo had halted beneath the great portal. His huge feet seemed as solid on the pavement of the church as the heavy Roman pillars. His great bushy head sat low between his shoulders, like the heads of lions, who also have a mane and no neck. He held the young girl, who was quivering all over, suspended from his horny hands like a white drapery, but he carried her with as much care as though he feared to break her or blight her. One would have said that he felt that she was a delicate, exquisite, precious thing, made for other hands than his.

Starting point is 15:12:28 There were moments when he looked as if not daring to touch her, even with his breath. Then, all at once, he would press her forcibly in his arms, against his angular bosom, like his own possession, his treasure, as the mother of that child would have done. His gnome's eye, fastened upon her, inundated her with tenderness, sadness, and pity, and was suddenly raised, filled with lightnings. Then the women laughed and wept, the crowd stamped with enthusiasm, for at that moment Quasimodo had a beauty of his own. He was handsome. He, that orphan, that fowling, that outcast,

Starting point is 15:13:10 He felt himself august and strong. He gazed in the face of that society from which he was banished, and which he had so powerfully intervened, of that human justice from which he had wrenched its prey, of all those tigers whose jaws were forced to remain empty, of those policemen, those judges, those executioners, of all that force of the king which he, the meanest of creatures, had just broken with the force of God. And then it was touching to behold this protection which had fallen from a being so hideous upon a being so unhappy, a creature condemned to death saved by Quasimodo. They were two extremes of natural and social wretchedness, coming into contact and aiding each other.

Starting point is 15:13:59 Meanwhile, after several moments of triumph, Quasimodo had plunged abruptly into the church with his burden. The populace, fond of all prowess, sought him. him with their eyes, beneath the gloomy nave, regretting that he had so speedily disappeared from their acclamations. All at once, he was seen to reappear at one of the extremities of the gallery of the kings of France. He traversed it, running like a madman, raising his conquest high in his arms and shouting, "'Situary!' The crowd broke forth too into fresh applause. The gallery passed, he plunged once more into the interior of the church. A moment later he reappeared upon the upper platform

Starting point is 15:14:42 with the gypsy still in his arms, still running madly, still crying, Sanctuary! And the throng applauded. Finally, he made his appearance for the third time upon the summit of the tower, where hung the great bell. From that point, he seemed to be showing to the entire city

Starting point is 15:15:02 the girl whom he had saved, and his voice of thunder, that voice which was so rarely heard and which he never heard himself, repeated thrice with frenzy, even to the clouds, "'Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Sactuary! Noel! Noelle!

Starting point is 15:15:23 Noelle! shouted the populace in its turn, and that immense acclamation flew to astonish the crowd assembled at the greve on the other bank, and the recluse who is still waiting with her eyes riveted on the gibbet. End of Book 8, Chapter 6. Book 9, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 9, Chapter 1. Delirium Claude Frollo was no longer in Notre Dame when his adopted son so abruptly cut the fatal web

Starting point is 15:16:14 in which the archdeacon and the gypsy were entangled. On returning to the sacristy, he had torn off his alb, cope, and stole, had flung all into the hands of the stupefied beetle, had made his escape through the private door of the cloister, had ordered a boatman of the terrain to transport him to the left bank of the seine, and had plunged into the hilly streets of the university, not knowing whither he was going, encountering at every step groups of men and women who were hurt,

Starting point is 15:16:44 worrying joyously towards the Pauze-San-Michel, in the hope of still arriving in time to see the witch hung there. Pale, wild, more troubled, more blind and more fierce than a night-bird lit loose and pursued by a troop of children in broad daylight. He no longer knew where he was, what he thought, or whether he was dreaming. He went forward, walking, running, taking any street at haphazard, making no choice, only urged ever on oneward away from the greve, the horrible greve, which he felt confusedly to be behind him. In this manner he skirted Mount Saint-Genvieve, and finally emerged from the town by the port St. Victor. He continued his flight as long as he could see, when he turned round, the turreted

Starting point is 15:17:33 enclosure of the university, and the rare houses of the suburb. But when at length a rise of ground had completely concealed from him that odious Paris, when he could believe himself to be a hundred leagues distant from it, in the fields, in the desert, he halted, and it seemed to him that he breathed more freely. Then frightful ideas thronged his mind. Once more he could see clearly into his soul, and he shuddered. He thought of that unhappy girl who had destroyed him, and whom he had destroyed. He cast a haggard eye over the double, tortuous way which fate had caused their two destinies to pursue up to their point of intersection, where it had dashed them against each other without mercy. He meditated on the folly of eternal vows, on the vanity of chastity,

Starting point is 15:18:24 of science, of religion, of virtue, on the uselessness of God. He plunged to his heart's content in evil thoughts, and in proportion, as he sank deeper, he felt a satanic laugh burst forth within him. And as he thus sifted his soul to the bottom, when he perceived how large a space nature had prepared there for the passions, he sneered still more bitterly. He stirred up in the deaths of his heart, all his hatred, all his malevolence, and with the cold glance of a physician who examines a patient, he recognized the fact that this malevolence was nothing but vitiated love. That love, that source of every virtue in man turned to horrible things in the heart of a priest, and that a man constituted like himself, in making himself a priest, made himself a demon. Then he laughed frightfully,

Starting point is 15:19:22 and suddenly became pale again, when he considered the most sinister side of his fatal passion, of that corrosive, venomous, malignant, implacable love, which had ended only in the gibbet for one of them, in hell for the other. Condemnation for her, damnation for him. And then his laughter came again, when he reflected that Phoebus was alive, that after all the captain lived, was gay and happy, had handsomer doublets than ever, and a new mistress whom he was conducting to see the old one hanged. His sneer redoubled its bitterness when he reflected that out of the living beings whose death he had desired, the gypsy, the only creature whom he did not hate, was the only one who had not escaped him.

Starting point is 15:20:12 Then from the captain his thought passed to the people, and there came to him a jealousy of an unprecedented sort. He reflected that the people also, the entire populace, had had before their eyes the woman whom he loved exposed almost naked. He writhed his arms with agony as he thought that the woman whose form was a woman whose form caught by him alone in the darkness, would have been supreme happiness, had been delivered up in broad daylight at full noon day to a whole people, clad as for a night of voluptuousness. He wept with rage over all these mysteries of love, profaned, soiled, laid bare, withered forever.

Starting point is 15:20:57 He wept with rage as he pictured to himself how many impure looks had been gratified at the sight of that badly fastened shift, at that this beautiful girl, this virgin lily, this cup of modesty and delight, to which he would have dared to place his lips only trembling, had just been transformed into a sort of public bowl, whereat the vilest populace of Paris, thieves, beggars, lackeys, had come to coiff in common, an audacious, impure, and depraved pleasure. And when he sought to picture to himself the happiness which he might have found upon earth, if she had not been a gypsy, if he had not been a priest, if Phoebus had not existed, and if she had loved him, when he pictured to himself that a life of serenity and love

Starting point is 15:21:52 would have been possible to him also, even to him, that there were at that very moment here and there upon the earth, happy couples spending the hours in sweet, converse beneath orange trees, on the banks of Brooks in the presence of a setting sun of a starry night. And that if God had so willed he might have formed with her one of those blessed couples, his heart melted in tenderness and despair. Oh, she, still she! It was this fixed idea which returned incessantly, which tortured him, which ate into his brain and rent his vitals. He not regret. He did not repent. All that he had done he was ready to do again. He preferred to behold her in the hands of the executioner, rather than in the arms of the captain. But he suffered.

Starting point is 15:22:45 He suffered, so that at intervals he tore out handfuls of his hair to see whether it were not turning white. Among other moments there came one, when it occurred to him that it was perhaps the very minute when the hideous chain which he had seen that morning was pressing its iron noose closer about that frail and graceful neck. This thought caused the perspiration to start from every pore. There was another moment when, while laughing diabolically at himself, he represented to himself La Esmeralda as he had seen her on that first day, lively, careless, joyous, gayly attired, dancing, winged, harmonious, and La Esmeralda of the last day, in her scanty shift with a rope about her neck, mounting slowly with her bare feet the angular ladder of the gallows.

Starting point is 15:23:43 He figured to himself this double picture in such a manner that he gave vent to a terrible cry. While this hurricane of despair overturned, broke, tore up, bent, uprooted everything in his soul, he gazed at nature around him. At his feet some chickens were searching the thickets and pecking, enameled beetles ran about in the sun. Overhead some groups of dappled gray clouds were floating across the blue sky. On horizon the spire of the Abbe St. Victor pierced the ridge of the hill with its slate obelisk, and the miller of the Capue Hillock was whistling as he watched the laborious wings of his mill turning.

Starting point is 15:24:26 All this active, organized, tranquil life, recurring around him, under a thousand forms, hurt him. He resumed his flight. He sped thus across the fields until evening. This flight from nature, life himself, man, God, everything, lasted all day long. Sometimes he flung himself face downward on the earth and tore up the young blades of wheat with his nails. Sometimes he halted in the deserted street of a village, and his thoughts were so intolerable that he grasped his head in both hands and tried to tear it from his shoulders, in order to dash it upon the pavement.

Starting point is 15:25:07 Towards the hour of sunset he examined himself again, and found himself nearly mad. The tempest which had raged within him ever since the instant when he had lost the hope and the will to save the gypsy. that tempest had not left in his conscience a single healthy idea, a single thought which maintained its upright position. His reason lay there almost entirely destroyed. There remained but two distinct images in his mind, La Esmeralda and the gallows. All the rest was blank. Those two images united present to him a frightful group, and the more he concentrated what attention and thought was left to him, the more he beheld them grow, in accordance with

Starting point is 15:25:56 a fantastic progression, the one in grace, in charm, in beauty, in light, the other in deformity and horror. So that at last La Esmerada appear to him like a star, the gibbet like an enormous, fleshless arm. One remarkable fact is that during the whole of this torture, the idea of dying did not seriously occur to him. The wretch was made so. He clung to life. Perhaps he really saw hell beyond it. Meanwhile, the day continued to decline. The living being, which still existed in him, reflected vaguely on retracing its steps. He believed himself to be far away from Paris. On taking his bearings, he perceived that he had only circled the enclosure of the university.

Starting point is 15:26:51 The spy of Sanssault-Pice and the three lofty needles of Saint-Germain-Depre rose above the horizon on his right. He turned his steps in that direction. When he heard the brisk challenge of the men-at-arms of the Abbey, around the crenellated circumscribing wall of Saint-Germain, he turned aside, took a path which presented itself between the Abbey and the Lazare House of the Borg, and at the The expiration of a few minutes found himself on the verge of the Prey-Oclare. This meadow was celebrated by reason of the brawls which went on their day and night.

Starting point is 15:27:26 It was the Hydra of the poor monks of Saint-Germain. Coadmuachi sancti Germani pretenses hydrafuit, clerichis Nova Semper Dicidorum, Kepeta Sassitantibus. The Archdeacon was afraid of meeting someone there. He feared every human countenance. He had just avoided the university and the Borg Saint-Germain. He wished to re-enter the streets as late as possible. He skirted the Prey Eau Claire, took the deserted path which separated it from the Diennuf,

Starting point is 15:28:01 and at last reached the water's edge. There Dom Claude found a boatman, who, for a few farthings in Parisian coinage, rode him up the seine as far as the point of the city, and landed him on that tongue of abandoned. land where the reader has already beheld Gringwa dreaming, and which was prolonged beyond the king's gardens, parallel to the Isle de Passeux-Ovochet. The monotonous rocking of the boat and the ripple of the water had, in some sort, quieted the unhappy clawed. When the boatman had taken his departure, he remained standing stupidly on the

Starting point is 15:28:39 strand, staring straight before him and perceiving objects only through magnifying oscillations, which rendered everything a sort of phantasmagoria to him. The fatigue of a great grief not infrequently produces this effect on the mind. The sun had set behind the lofty Tour de Nell. It was the twilight hour. The sky was white, the water of the river was white. Between these two white expanses, the left bank of the seine, on which his eyes were fixed, projected its gloomy mass,

Starting point is 15:29:13 and rendered ever thinner and thinner by perspective, it plunged into the gloom of the horizon like a black spire. It was loaded with houses, of which only the obscure outline could be distinguished, sharply brought out in shadows against the light background of the sky and the water. Here and there windows began to gleam like the holes in a brazier. That immense black obelisk thus isolated between the two white expanses of the sky and the river, which was very broad at this point, produced upon Dom Claude a singular effect, comparable to that which could be experienced by a man who, reclining on his back at the foot of

Starting point is 15:29:54 the Tower of Strasbourg, should gaze at the enormous spire plunging into the shadows of the twilight above his head. Only in this case it was Claude who was erect and the obelisk which was lying down. But as the river, reflecting the sky, prolonged the abyss below him, The immense promontory seemed to be as boldly launched into space as any cathedral spire, and the impression was the same. This impression had even one stronger and more profound point about it, that it was indeed the Tower of Strasbourg. But the Tower of Strasbourg, two leagues in height,

Starting point is 15:30:32 something unheard of, gigantic, immeasurable, an edifice such as no human eye has ever seen, a tower of Babel. The chimneys of the houses, the battlements of the walls, the faceted gables of the roofs, the spire of the Augustines, the Tower of Nell, all these projections which broke the profile of the colossal obelisk, added to the illusion by displaying, in eccentric fashion to the eye, the indentations of a luxuriant and fantastic sculpture. Claude, in the state of hallucination in which he found himself, believed that he saw,

Starting point is 15:31:10 that he saw with his actual eyes the bell tower of hell. The thousand lights scattered over the whole height of the terrible tower seemed to him so many porches of the immense interior furnace. The voices and noises which escaped from it seemed so many shrieks, so many death groans. Then he became alarmed. He put his hands on his ears that he might no longer hear, turned his back that he might no longer see, and fled from the frightful vision with hasty strides. But the vision was in himself. When he re-entered the streets, the passers-by, elbowing each other by the light of the shop-fronts, protrused upon him the effect of a constant going and coming of specters about him. There were strange noises in his ears. Extraordinary fancies disturbed his brain.

Starting point is 15:32:06 He saw neither houses nor pavements, nor chariots, nor men and women, but a chaos of indeterminate objects whose edges melted into each other. At the corner of the Rue della Barillery, there was a grocer's shop whose porch was garnished all about, according to immemorial custom, with hoops of tin from which hung a circle of wooden candles, which came in contact with each other in the wind, and rattled like castanets. He thought he heard a cluster of skeletons at Mont Fosson clashing together in the gloom. Oh, he muttered, the night breeze dashes them against each other and mingles the noise of their chains with the rattle of their bones. Perhaps she is there among them.

Starting point is 15:32:56 In his state of frenzy, he knew not whither he was going. After a few strides he found himself on the Pont-Sain-Michel. There was a light in the window of a ground-floor room. He approached. Through a cracked window he beheld a mean chamber which recalled some confused memory to his mind. In that room, badly lighted by a meager lamp, there was a fresh, light-haired young man with a merry face, who amid loud bursts of laughter was embracing a very audaciously attired young girl. And near the lamp sat an old crone, spinning and singing in a quavering voice. As the young man did not laugh constantly,

Starting point is 15:33:38 fragments of the old woman's ditty reached the priest. It was something unintelligible, yet frightful. Grave-boa, grave-groui, feel, fear ma guan-o-o-wee, feel secode a barrow that sifle in the preo, Grave-boa, grave-grui, gruey the belle cordy de chambre summed desy deyesies to van vre to chanvres et nampest de blu le volu n'n't paul

Starting point is 15:34:17 not paulay the belle the borgh d'her ch'n'r gruey grieve abois for voile le filet de joey "'Prendre au, I bet chesu, "'le fenetre sans d'é, oh. "'Greve grue, grieve abois!' "'Bark grumble, grve, spin, spin, "'her rope for the hangman, who is whistling in the meadow. "'What a beautiful hemp and rope!

Starting point is 15:34:52 "'So, hemp, not wheat, from Issy to Vandre. "'The thief hath not stolen the beautiful hemp and rope. Grumble, greve, bark, greve, to see the dissolute wench hang on the bleary gibbet, windows our eyes. Thereupon the young men laughed and caressed the wench. The crone was La Flaordel, the girl was a courtesan. The young man was his brother, Jehan. He continued to gaze.

Starting point is 15:35:21 That spectacle was as good as any other. He saw Jehan go to a window at the end of the room, open it, cast a glance, on the key, where in the distance blazed a thousand lighted casements, and he heard him say as he closed the sash, "'Pon my soul! How dark it is! The people are lighting their candles, and the good God his stars!' Then Shahan came back to the hag, smashed a bottle standing on the table, exclaiming, "'Already empty! Go buff! And I have no more money! Isabot, my dear, I shall not be satisfied with Jupiter, until he has changed your two white nipples into two black bottles,

Starting point is 15:36:02 where I may suck wine of bone day and night. This fine pleasantry made the chorus and laugh, and Jehan left the room. Dom Claude had barely time to fling himself on the ground in order that he might not be met, stared in the face and recognized by his brother. Luckily, the street was dark, and the scholar was tipsy. Nevertheless, he caught sight of the archdeacon prone upon the earth in the mud.

Starting point is 15:36:28 "'Oh, oh!' said he. "'Here's a fellow who has been leading a jolly life to-day.' He stirred up Dom Claude with his foot, and the latter held his breath. "'Dead drunk,' resumed Jehan. "'Come, he's full. A regular leech detached from a hog's head. He's bald,' he added, bending down. "'Tis an old man, fortunate senet.' Then Dom Claude heard him retreat, saying,

Starting point is 15:36:57 "'Tis all the same. Reason is a fine thing, and my brother the archdeacon is very happy in that he is wise and has money.' Then the archdeacon rose to his feet and ran without halting towards Notre Dame, whose enormous towers he beheld rising above the houses through the gloom. At the instant when he arrived, panting on the plaster parvy, he shrank back and dared not raise his eyes to the fatal edifice. Oh, he said in a low voice, is it really true that such a thing took place here today this very morning? Still, he ventured to glance at the church.

Starting point is 15:37:39 The front was somber. The sky behind was glittering with stars. The crescent of the moon, in her flight upward from the horizon, had paused at the moment on the summit of the right-hand tower, and seemed to have perched itself like a luminous bird on the air edge of the balustrade cut out in black tree foils. The cloister door was shut, but the archdeacon always carried with him the key of the tower in which his laboratory was situated. He made use of it to enter the church. In the church,

Starting point is 15:38:11 he found the gloom and silence of a cavern. By the deep shadows which fell in broad sheets from all directions, he recognized the fact that the hangings of the ceremony of the morning had not yet been removed. The great silver cross shone from the depths of the gloom, powdered with some sparkling points, like the milky way of that sepulchral night. The long windows of the choir showed the upper extremities of their arches above the black draperies, and their painted panes, traversed by a ray of moonlight, had no longer any hues but the doubtful colors of night, a sort of violet's white and blue, whose tint is found only on the faces of the dead.

Starting point is 15:38:53 The archdeacon, on perceiving these wan spots all around the choir, thought he beheld the miters of damned bishops. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, he thought they were a circle of pale visages gazing at him. He started to flee across the church. Then it seemed to him that the church also was shaking, moving, becoming endued with animation, that it was alive, that each of the great columns was turning into an enormous,

Starting point is 15:39:21 paw, which was beating the earth with its big stone spatula, and that the gigantic cathedral was no longer anything but a sort of prodigious elephant, which was breathing and marching with its pillars for feet, its two towers for trunks, and the immense black cloth for its housings. This fever or madness had reached such a degree of intensity that the external world was no longer anything more for the unhappy man than a sort of apocalypse. visible, palpable, terrible. For one moment he was relieved. As he plunged into the side aisles, he perceived a reddish light behind a cluster of pillars. He ran towards it as to a star. It was the poor lamp which lighted the public breviary of Notre Dame night and day beneath its iron grating.

Starting point is 15:40:13 He flung himself eagerly upon the holy book in the hope of finding some consolation or some encouragement there. The book lay open at this passage of Job, over which his staring eye glanced. And a spirit passed before my face, and I heard a small voice, and the hair of my flesh stood up. On reading these gloomy words, he felt that which a blind man feels when he feels himself pricked by the staff which he has picked up. His knees gave way beneath him, and he sank upon the pavement, thinking of her, who had died that day. day. He felt so many monstrous vapors pass and discharge themselves in his brain that it seemed to him that his head had become one of the chimneys of hell. It would appear that he remained

Starting point is 15:41:03 a long time in this attitude, no longer thinking, overwhelmed, and passive beneath the hand of the demon. At length some strength returned to him. It occurred to him to take refuge in his tower beside his faithful Quasimodo. He rose, and as he was afraid, he took the lamp from the breviary to light his way. It was a sacrilege, but he had got beyond heating such a trifle now. He slowly climbed the stairs of the towers, filled with a secret fright which must have been communicated to the rare passers-by in the place to parvy by the mysterious light of his lamp, mounting so late from loophole to loophole of the bell tower. All at once he felt a freshness on his face, and found himself at the door of the highest

Starting point is 15:41:50 gallery. The air was cold. The sky was filled with hurrying clouds, whose large white flakes drifted one upon another, like the breaking up of river ice after the winter. The crescent of the moon, stranded in the midst of the clouds, seemed a celestial vessel caught in the ice-cakes of the air. He lowered his gaze, and contemplated for a moment, through the railing of slender columns which unites the two towers, far away through a gauze. of mists and smoke, the silent throng of the roofs of Paris, pointed, innumerable, crowded and small like the waves of a tranquil sea on a summer night. The moon cast a feeble ray, which imparted to earth and heaven an ashy hue. At that moment the clock raised its shrill,

Starting point is 15:42:39 cracked voice. Midnight rang out. The priest thought of midday. Twelve o'clock had come back again. Oh, he said in a very low tone, She must be cold now. All at once a gust of wind extinguished his lamp, and almost at the same instant he beheld a shade, a whiteness, a form, a woman, appear from the opposite angle of the tower. He started. Beside this woman was a little goat,

Starting point is 15:43:09 which mingled its bleat with the last bleat of the clock. He had strength enough to look. It was she. She was pale. She was gloomy. Her hair fell over her shoulders as in the morning. But there was no longer a rope on her neck. Her hands were no longer bound.

Starting point is 15:43:30 She was free. She was dead. She was dressed in white and had a white veil on her head. She came towards him, slowly, with her gaze fixed on the sky. The supernatural goat followed her. He felt as though made of stone. and too heavy to flee. At every step which he took in advance he took one backwards, and that was all. In this way he retreated once more beneath the gloomy arch of the stairway.

Starting point is 15:44:00 He was chilled by the thought that she might enter there also. Had she done so, he would have died of terror. She did arrive, in fact, in front of the door to the stairway, and paused there for several minutes, stared intently into the darkness, but without appearing to see the priest and passed on. She seemed taller to him than when she had been alive. He saw the moon through her white robe. He heard her breath. When she had passed on, he began to descend the staircase again,

Starting point is 15:44:33 with the slowness which he had observed in the specter, believing himself to be a specter too, haggard with hair on end, his extinguished lamp still in his hand. And as he descended the spiral steps, He distinctly heard in his ear a voice laughing and repeating, A spirit passed before my face, and I heard a small voice, and the hair of my flesh stood up. End of Book 9, Chapter 1. Book 9, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 15:45:19 Book 9 Chapter 2. hunchbacked, one-eyed, lame. Every city during the Middle Ages, and every city in France, down to the time of Louis XVI, had its places of asylum. These sanctuaries, in the midst of the deluge of penal and barbarous jurisdictions which inundated the city, were a species of islands which rose above the level of human justice. Every criminal who landed there was safe. There were in every suburb almost as many places of asylum,

Starting point is 15:45:51 as gallows. It was the abuse of impunity by the side of the abuse of punishment. Two bad things which strove to correct each other. The palaces of the king, the hotels of the princes, and especially churches, possessed the right of asylum. Sometimes a whole city which stood in need of being re-peopled was temporarily created a place of refuge. Louis XI. Louis XI. 11th made all Paris a refuge in 1467. His foot, once within the asylum, the criminal, was sacred, but he must beware of leaving it. One step outside the sanctuary, and he fell back into the flood. The wheel, the gibbet, the strapado, kept good guard around the place of refuge,

Starting point is 15:46:38 and lay in watch incessantly for their prey, like sharks around a vessel. Hence, condemned men were to be seen whose hair had grown white in a cloister, on the steps of a palace in the enclosure of an abbey, beneath the porch of a church. In this manner, the asylum was a prison as much as any other. It sometimes happened that a solemn decree of Parliament violated the asylum and restored the condemned man to the executioner, but this was of rare occurrence. Parliaments were afraid of the bishops, and when there was friction between these two robes, the gown had but a poor chance against the cassock. Sometimes, however, as in the affair of the assassins of Petit Jean, the headsman of Paris,

Starting point is 15:47:25 and in that of Emery Rousseau, the murderer of Jean Valeret, justice overleaped the church and passed on to the execution of its sentences. But unless by virtue of a decree of Parliament, woe to him who violated a place of asylum with armed force. The reader knows the manner of death of Robert de Clermont, Marshal of France, and of Jean de de Chalon, Marshal of Champagne, and yet the question was only of a certain Perin-Marc, the clerk of a money-changer, a miserable assassin, but the two marshals had broken the doors of Saint-Marie, therein lay the enormity.

Starting point is 15:48:05 Such respect was cherished for places of refuge that, according to tradition, animals even felt it at times. Emois relates that a stag, being chased by Dagobert, having taken refuge near the tomb of Saint-Denny, the pack of hounds stopped short and barked. Churches generally had a small apartment prepared for the reception of supplicants. In 1407, Nicholas Flamele caused to be built on the vaults of Saint-Jacques de Lebusier, a chamber which cost him four livres, six sous, sixteen farthings, perisee. At Notre Dame, it was a tiny cell, situated on the roof of the side aisle, beneath the flying

Starting point is 15:48:51 buttresses. Precisely at the spot where the wife of the present janitor of the towers has made for herself a garden, which is to the hanging gardens of Babylon what a lettuce is to a palm tree, what a porter's wife is to a Semiramis. It was here that Quasimodo had deposited La Esmeralda, after his wild and triumphant course. As long as that course lasted, the young girl had been unable to recover her senses, half unconscious, half awake, no longer feeling anything, except that she was mounting through the air, floating in it, flying in it, that something was raising her above the earth.

Starting point is 15:49:34 From time to time she heard the loud laughter, the noisy voice of Quasimodo in her ear. She half opened her eyes, then below her, she confusedly beheld Paris, checkered with its thousand roofs of slate and tiles, like a red and blue mosaic, above her head the frightful and joyous face of Quasimoto. Then her eyelids drooped again. She thought that all was over, that they had executed her during her swoon, and that the misshapen spirit which had presided over her destiny, had laid hold of her and was bearing her away. She dared not look at it, at him, and she surrendered herself to her fate. But when the bell-ringer, disheveled and panting,

Starting point is 15:50:19 had deposited her in the cell of refuge, when she felt his huge hands gently detaching the cord which bruised her arms, she felt that sort of shock, which awakens with a start the passengers of a vessel, which runs a ground in the middle of a dark night. Her thoughts awoke also, and returned to her one by one. She saw that she was in Notre Dame. She remembered, and she remembered having been torn from the hands of the executioner, that Phoebus was alive, that Phoebus loved her no longer, and as these two ideas, one of which shed so much bitterness over the other, presented themselves simultaneously to the poor condemned girl, she turned to Quasimodo, who was standing in front of her, and who terrified her. She said to him,

Starting point is 15:51:05 Why have you saved me? He gazed at her with anxiety, as though seeking her. to divine what she was saying to him. She repeated her question. Then he gave her a profoundly sorrowful glance and fled. She was astonished. A few moments later he returned, bearing a package which he cast at her feet. It was clothing which some charitable women had left on the threshold of the church for her. Then she dropped her eyes upon herself and saw that she was almost naked and blushed. Life had returned. Quasimodo appeared to experience something of this modesty.

Starting point is 15:51:46 He covered his eyes with his large hand and retired once more, but slowly. She made haste to dress herself. The robe was a white one with a white veil, the garb of a novice of the Hotel Dianne. She had barely finished when she beheld Quasimoto returning. He carried a basket under one arm and a mattress under the other. In the basket there was a bottle, bread, and some provisions. He set the basket on the floor and said, Eat.

Starting point is 15:52:16 He spread the mattress on the flagging and said, Sleep. It was his own repast. It was his own bed, which the bell-ringer had gone in search of. The gypsy raised her eyes to thank him, but she could not articulate a word. She dropped her head with a quiver of terror. Then he said to her,

Starting point is 15:52:36 I frighten you. I am very ugly, am I not? Do not look at me, only listen to me. During the day you will remain here. At night you can walk all over the church. But do not leave the church either by day or by night. You would be lost. They would kill you and I should die. She was touched and raised her head to answer him. He had disappeared. She found herself alone once more, meditating upon the singular words of this almost monstrous being. and struck by the sound of his voice, which was so hoarse, yet so gentle. Then she examined her cell. It was a chamber, about six feet square, with a small window, and a door on the slightly sloping plain of the roof formed of flat stones. Many gutters with the figures of animals seemed to be bending down around her,

Starting point is 15:53:32 and stretching their necks in order to stare at her through the window. Over the edge of her roof she perceived the tops of thursday, thousands of chimneys which caused the smoke of all the fires in Paris to rise beneath her eyes. A sad sight for the poor gypsy, a foundling, condemned to death, an unhappy creature, without country, without family, without a hearthstone. At the moment when the thought of her isolation thus appeared to her more poignant than ever, she felt a bearded and hairy head glide between her hands, upon her knees. She started.

Starting point is 15:54:08 Everything alarmed her now. and looked. It was the poor goat, the agile Jolly, which had made its escape after her at the moment when Quasimodo had put to flight Charmolu's brigade, and which had been lavishing caresses on her feet for nearly an hour past, without being able to win a glance. The gypsy covered him with kisses. "'Oh, Jolly!' she said. "'How I have forgotten thee! And so thou still thinkest of me! Oh, thou art not an ingrate. At the same time, as though an invisible hand had lifted the weight which had repressed

Starting point is 15:54:46 her tears in her heart for so long, she began to weep, and in proportion, as her tears flowed, she felt all that was most acrid and bitter in her grief depart with them. Evening came, she thought the night so beautiful that she made the circuit of the elevated gallery which surrounds the church. It afforded her some relief, so calm did the earth appear, when viewed from that height. End of Book 9, Chapter 2. Book 9, Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 15:55:31 Book 9, Chapter 3. Death. On the following morning, she perceived on awaking that she had been asleep. This singular thing astonished her. She had been so long unaccustomed to sleep. A joyous ray of the rising sun entered through her window and touched her face. At the same time, with the sun, she beheld at the window an object which frightened her, the unfortunate face of Quasimodo. She involuntarily closed her eyes again, but in vain.

Starting point is 15:56:05 She fancied that she still saw through the rosy lids that gnome's mask, one-eyed and gap-toothed. Then, while she still kept her eyes closed, she heard a rough, voice, saying, very gently, "'Be not afraid. I am no friend. I came to watch you sleep. It does not hurt you if I come to see you sleep, does it? What difference does it make to you if I am here when your eyes are closed? Now I am going. Stay. I have placed myself behind the wall. You can open your eyes again.' There was something more plaintive than these words, and that was the accent of accent in which they were uttered. The gypsy, much touched, opened her eyes. He was, in fact,

Starting point is 15:56:54 no longer at the window. She approached the opening and beheld the poor hunchback crouching in an angle of the wall, in a sad and resigned attitude. She made an effort to surmount the repugnance with which he inspired her. "'Come,' she said to him gently. From the movement of the gypsy's lips, Quasimodo thought that she was driving him away. Then he rose and retired limping, slowly, with drooping head, without even daring to raise to the young girl his gaze full of despair. "'Do come,' she cried, but he continued to retreat. Then she darted from her cell, ran to him, and grasped his arm.

Starting point is 15:57:40 On feeling her touch him, Quasimodo trembled in every. every limb. He raised his suppliant eye, and seeing that she was leading him back to her quarters, his whole face beamed with joy and tenderness. She tried to make him enter the cell, but he persisted in remaining on the threshold. "'No, no,' said he. "'The owl enters not the nest of the lock.' Then she crouched down gracefully on her couch, with her goat asleep at her feet. Both remained motionless for several moments, considering in silence. She so much grace, he so much ugliness.

Starting point is 15:58:24 Every moment she discovered some fresh deformity in Quasimoto. Her glance traveled from his knock knees to his humped back, from his humped back to his only eye. She could not comprehend the existence of a being so awkwardly fashioned. Yet there was so much sadness and so much gentleness spread over all this that she began to become reconciled to it. He was the first to break the silence. "'So you were telling me to a turn?' She made an affirmative sign of the head and said,

Starting point is 15:58:59 "'Yes.' He understood the motion of the head. "'Alas!' he said, as though hesitating whether to finish. I am, I am deaf." "'Poor man!' exclaimed the bohemian, with an expression of kindly pity. He began to smile sadly. "'You think that that was all that I lacked, do you not? Yes, I am deaf. That is the way I am made.

Starting point is 15:59:29 Tis horrible, is it not? You are so beautiful.' There lay in the accents of the wretched man so profound a consciousness of his misery that she had not the strength to say a word. Besides, he would not have hurt her. He went on. "'Never have I seen my ugliness as at the present moment. When I compare myself to you, I feel a very great pity for myself, poor unhappy monster that I am. Tell me, I must look to you like a beast. You are a ray of sunshine. a drop of dew, the song of a bird. I am something frightful, neither man nor animal. I know not what,

Starting point is 16:00:19 harder, more trampled underfoot, more unshapely than a pebble-stone. Then he began to laugh, and that laugh was the most heartbreaking thing in the world. He continued, "'Yes, I am deaf, but you shall talk to me by gestures, by sides. I have a master who talks with me in that way. And then I shall very soon know your wish from the movement of your lips, from your look." Well, she interposed with a smile, tell me why you saved me. He watched her attentively while she was speaking. "'I understand,' he replied.

Starting point is 16:01:02 "'You ask me why I saved you. You have forgotten a wretch who tried to abduct you one night, a wretch to whom you rendered succor on the following day, on their infamous pillory, a drop of water and a little pity, that is more than I can repay with my life. You have forgotten that wretch, but he remembers it." She listened to him with profound tenderness. A tear swam in the eye of the bell-ringer, but did not fall. He seemed to make him. it a sort of point of honor to retain it."

Starting point is 16:01:42 "'Listen,' he resumed, when he was no longer afraid that the tear would escape. "'Our towers here are very high. A man who should fall from them would be dead before touching the pavement. When it shall please you to have me fall, you will not have to utter even a word. A glance will suffice.' Then he rose. Unhappy as was the Bohemian, this eccentric being still aroused some compassion in her. She made him a sign to remain. "'No, no,' said he, "'I must not remain too long. I am not at my ease. It is out of pity that you do not turn away your eyes. I shall go to some place where I can see you without your seeing me.

Starting point is 16:02:32 It will be better so.' He drew from his pocket a little metal whistle. "'Here,' said he, "'when you have need of me, when you wish me to come, when you will not feel too ranch horror at the sight of me, use this whistle. I can hear it sound.' He laid the whistle on the floor and fled. End of Book 9, Chapter 3. Book 9, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.

Starting point is 16:03:10 This Libravox recording is in the public don't Domain. Book 9 Chapter 4 Earthenware and Crystal. Day followed day. Calm gradually returned to the soul of La Esmeralda. Excess of grief, like excess of joy, is a violent thing which lasts but a short time. The heart of man cannot remain long in one extremity. The gypsy had suffered so much that nothing was left her but astonishment. With security, Hope had returned to her. She was outside the pale of society, outside the pale of life, but she had a vague feeling that it might not be impossible to return to it.

Starting point is 16:03:55 She was like a dead person, who should hold in reserve the key to her tomb. She felt that terrible images which had so long persecuted her, gradually departing. All the hideous phantoms, Pierat Torturu, Jacques She, Charmelo were effaced from her mind, all even the priest. And then Phoebus was alive. She was sure of it. She had seen him. To her the fact of Phoebus being alive was everything. After the series of fatal shocks which had overturned everything within her, she had found but one thing intact in her soul, one sentiment, her love for the captain. Love is like a tree. It sprouts forth

Starting point is 16:04:42 of itself, sends its roots out deeply through our whole being, and often continues to flourish greenly over a heart in ruins. And the inexplicable point about it is that the more blind is this passion, the more tenacious it is. It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it. La Esmeralda did not think of the captain without bitterness, no doubt. No doubt it was terrible that he also should have. have been deceived, that he should have believed that impossible thing, that he could have

Starting point is 16:05:17 conceived of a stab dealt by her who would have given a thousand lives for him. But after all, she must not be too angry with him for it. Had she not confessed her crime, had she not yielded, weak woman that she was, to torture? The fault was entirely hers. She should have allowed her fingernails to be torn out rather than such a word to be wrenched from her. In short, if she could but see Phoebus once more for a single minute, only one word would be required, one look, in order to undeceive him, to bring him back. She did not doubt it. She was astonished also at many singular things, at the accident of Phoebus' presence on the day of the penance, at the young girl with whom he had been.

Starting point is 16:06:08 She was his sister, no doubt. An unreasonable explanation. but she contended herself with it, because she needed to believe that Phoebe still loved her, and loved her alone. Had he not sworn it to her? What more was needed, simple and credulous as she was. And then, in this matter, were not appearances much more against her than against him? Accordingly, she waited, she hoped. Let us add that the church, that vast church, which surrounded her all,

Starting point is 16:06:42 on every side, which guarded her, which saved her, was itself a sovereign tranquilizer. The solemn lines of that architecture, the religious attitude of all the objects which surrounded the young girl, the serene and pious thoughts which emanated, so to speak, from all the pores of that stone, acted upon her without being aware of it. The edifice had also sounds fraught with such benediction and such majesty that they soothed the this ailing soul. The monotonous chanting of the celebrants, the responses of the people to the priest, sometimes inarticulate, sometimes thunderous, the harmonious trembling of the painted windows, the organ bursting forth like a hundred trumpets, the three belfries humming like hives of huge bees,

Starting point is 16:07:33 that whole orchestra on which bounded a gigantic scale, ascending, descending incessantly from the voice of a throng to that of one bell, dulled her memory, her imagination, her grief. The bells in particular lulled her. It was something like a powerful magnetism which those vast instruments shed over her in great waves. Thus every sunrise found her more calm, breathing better, less pale. In proportion as her inward wounds closed her grace and beauty blossomed once more on her countenance, more thoughtful, more reposeful. Her former character also returned to her, somewhat even of her gaiety, her pretty pout, her love for her goat, her love for singing, her modesty.

Starting point is 16:08:24 She took care to dress herself in the morning, in the corner of her cell, for fear some inhabitants of the neighboring addicts might see her through the window. When the thought of Phoebus left her time, the gypsy sometimes thought of Quasimoto. He was the sole bond, the sole connection, the sole communication which remained to her with men, with the living. Unfortunate girl, she was more outside the world than Quasimodo. She understood not in the least the strange friend whom chance had given her. She often reproached herself for not feeling a gratitude which should close her eyes,

Starting point is 16:09:04 but decidedly she could not accustom herself to the poor bell-ringer. He was too ugly. She had left the whistle which he had given her lying on the ground. This did not prevent Quasimodo from making his appearance from time to time during the first few days. She did her best not to turn aside with too much repugnance when he came to bring her her basket of provisions or her jug of water, but he always perceived the slightest movement of this sort, and then he withdrew sadly. Once he came at the moment when she was caressing jolly. He stood pensively for several minutes before this graceful group of the goat and the gypsy.

Starting point is 16:09:48 At last he said, shaking his heavy and ill-formed head, "'My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much. I should like to be wholly a beast like that goat.' She gazed at him in amazement. He replied to the glance, Oh, I well know why, and he went away. On another occasion he presented himself at the door of the cell, which he never entered, at the moment when La Esmeralda was singing an old Spanish ballad,

Starting point is 16:10:22 the words of which she did not understand, but which had lingered in her ear because the gypsy women had lulled her to sleep with it when she was a little child. At the sight of that villainous form which made its appearance so abruptly in the middle of her song, the young girl paused with an involuntary gesture of alarm. The unhappy bell-ringer fell upon his knees on the threshold and clasped his large, misshapen hands with a suppliant air. "'Oh!' he said sorrowfully, "'Continue, I implore you, and do not drive me away!' She did not wish to pain him, and resumed her lay, trembling all over.

Starting point is 16:11:06 By degrees, however, her terror disappeared, and she yielded herself wholly to the slow and melancholy air which she was singing. He remained on his knees with hands clasped, as in prayer, attentive, hardly breathing. His gaze riveted upon the gypsy's brilliant eyes. On another occasion he came to her with an awkward and timid air. "'Listen,' he said with an effort. "'I have something to say to you. She made him a sign that she was listening.

Starting point is 16:11:40 Then he began to sigh, half opened his lips, appeared for a moment to be on the point of speaking. Then he looked at her again, shook his head, and withdrew slowly, with his brow in his hand, leaving the gypsy stupefied. Among the grotesque personages sculptured on the wall, there was one to whom he was particularly attached, and with which he often seemed to exchange fraternal glances. Once the gypsy heard him saying to it, Oh, why am not I of stone like you? At last one morning, La Esmeralda had advanced to the edge of the roof

Starting point is 16:12:21 and was looking into the place over the pointed roof of Saint-Jean-Laurent. Quasimoto was standing behind her. He had placed himself in that position in order to spare the young girl as far as possible, the displeasure of seeing him. All at once the gypsy started. A tear and a flash of joy gleamed simultaneously in her eyes. She knelt on the brink of the roof and extended her arms towards the plas with anguish, exclaiming,

Starting point is 16:12:53 "'Foebus! Come! Come! Come! A word! A single word in the name of heaven! Phoebus! Fibus! Feebus! Her voice, her face, her gesture, her whole person bore the heart-rending expression of a shipwrecked man who was making a signal of distress to the joyous vessel which is passing afar off in a ray of sunlight on the horizon. Quasimodo leaned over the place and saw that the object of this tender and agonizing prayer was a young man, a captain, a handsome cavalier, all glittering with arms.

Starting point is 16:13:33 and decorations, prancing across the end of the place, and saluting with his plume a beautiful lady who was smiling at him from her balcony. However, the officer did not hear the unhappy girl calling him. He was too far away. But the poor deaf man heard. A profound sigh heaved his breast. He turned round. His heart was swollen with all the tears which he was swallowing. His convulsively clenched fists struck against his head, and when he withdrew them there was a bunch of red hair in each hand. The gypsy paid no heed to him. He said, in a low voice, as he gnashed his teeth,

Starting point is 16:14:16 Damnation! That is what one should be like. This only necessary to be handsome on the outside! Meanwhile, she remained kneeling and cried with extraordinary agitation. Oh, there he is, a lighting from his horse. He is about to enter that house. Thebus! He does not hear me. Thibus!

Starting point is 16:14:40 How wicked that woman is to speak to him at the same time with me! Thibus! The deaf man gazed at her. He understood this pantomime. The poor bell-ringer's eye filled with tears, but he let none fall. All at once he pulled her gently. by the border of her sleeve. She turned round. He had assumed a tranquil air. He said to her, "'Would you like to have me bring him to you?' She uttered a cry of joy.

Starting point is 16:15:14 "'Oh, go, hasten, run quick! That captain! That captain! Bring him to me! I will love you for it!' She clasped his knees. He could not refrain from shaking his head sadly. I will bring him to you, he said in a weak voice. Then he turned his head and plunged down the staircase with great strides, stifling with sobs. When he reached the place, he no longer saw anything except the handsome horse hitched at the door of the gondolarié house. The captain had just entered there. He raised his eyes to the roof of the church. La Esmeralda was there in the same spot, in the same attitude.

Starting point is 16:15:58 He made her a sad sign with his head. Then he planted his back against one of the stone posts of the Gondolier porch, determined to wait until the captain should come forth. In the Gondolarié house, it was one of those gala days which precede a wedding. Quasimodo beheld many people enter, but no one come out. He cast a glance towards the roof from time to time. The gypsy did not stir any more than himself. A groom came and unhitched the room.

Starting point is 16:16:28 the horse and led it to the stable of the house. The entire day passed thus, Quasimodo at his post, La Esmeralda on the roof, Phoebus, no doubt, at the feet of Fulor d'I. At length night came, a moonless night, a dark night. Quasimodo fixed his gaze in vain upon La Esmeralda. Soon she was no more than a whiteness amid the twilight. Then nothing. All was effaced, all was black. Quasimodo beheld the front windows from top to bottom of the gondolier mansion illuminated. He saw the other casements in the place lighted one by one. He also saw them extinguished to the very last, for he remained the whole evening at his post. The officer did not come forth. When the last passers-by had returned home, when the windows of all the other houses

Starting point is 16:17:26 were extinguished, Quasimodo was left entirely alone, entirely in the dark. There were at that time no lamps in the square before Notre Dame. Meanwhile, the windows of the Gondolore mansion remained lighted, even after midnight. Quasimodo, motionless and attentive, beheld a throng of lively, dancing shadows pass athwart the many-colored painted panes. Had he not been deaf, he would have heard more and more distinctly, in proportion as the noise of sleeping Paris died away, a sound of feasting, laughter, and music in the gondoloree mansion. Towards one o'clock in the morning the guests began to take their leave. Quasimodo, shrouded in darkness, watched them all pass out through the porch illuminated

Starting point is 16:18:16 with torches. None of them was the captain. He was filled with sad thoughts. At times he looked upwards into the air, like a person who was weary of waiting. Great black clouds, heavy, torn, split, hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry dome of night. One would have pronounced them spider's webs of the vault of heaven. In one of these moments he suddenly beheld the long window on the balcony, whose stone balustrade

Starting point is 16:18:47 projected above his head open mysteriously. The frail glass door gave passage to two persons, and closed noiselessly behind them. It was a man and a woman. It was not without difficulty that Quasimodo succeeded in recognizing in the man the handsome captain, in the woman the young lady whom he had seen welcome the officer in the morning from that very balcony. The place was perfectly dark, and a double crimson curtain which had fallen across the door the very moment it closed again, allowed no.

Starting point is 16:19:21 no light to reach the balcony from the apartment. The young man and the young girl, so far as our deaf man could judge, without hearing a single one of their words, appeared to abandon themselves to a very tender tete-a-tete. The young girl seemed to have allowed the officer to make a girdle for her of his arm, and gently repulsed a kiss. Quasimoto looked on from below at this scene which was all the more pleasing to witness because it was not meant to be seen. He contemplated with bitterness, that beauty, that happiness. After all, nature was not dumb in the poor fellow, and his human sensibility, all maliciously contorted as it was, quivered no less than any other.

Starting point is 16:20:07 He thought of the miserable portion which Providence had allotted to him, that woman and the pleasure of love would pass forever before his eyes, and that he should never do anything but behold the felicity of others. But that which rent his heart most in this sight, that which mingled indignation with his anger, was the thought of what the gypsy would suffer, could she behold it? It is true that the night was very dark,

Starting point is 16:20:35 that La Esmeralda, if she had remained at her post, and he had no doubt of this, was very far away, and that it was all that he himself could do to distinguish the lovers on the balcony. This consoled him. Meanwhile, their conversation grew more and more animated. The young lady appeared to be entreating the officer to ask nothing more of her. Of all this, Quasimodo could distinguish only the beautiful clasped hands,

Starting point is 16:21:02 the smiles mingled with tears, the young girl's glances directed to the stars, the eyes of the captain lowered ardently upon her. Fortunately, for the young girl was beginning to resist but feebly, the door of the balcony suddenly opened once more, and an old dame appeared. The beauty seemed confused. The officer assumed an air of displeasure, and all three withdrew. A moment later, a horse was champing his bit under the porch, and the brilliant officer, enveloped in his night cloak, passed rapidly before Quasimodo. The bell-ringer allowed him to turn the corner of the street,

Starting point is 16:21:41 then he ran after him with his ape-like agility, shouting, "'Hey there! Captain!' the Captain halted. "'What once this knave with me?' he said, catching sight through the gloom of that hip-shot form which ran limping after him. Meanwhile, Quasimodo had caught up with him, and had boldly grasped his horse's bridle. "'Follow me, Captain. There is one here who desires to speak with you.' "'Cornayom,' grumbled Phoebus. Here's a villainous, ruffled bird, which I fancy I have seen somewhere.

Starting point is 16:22:19 "'Ola, master, will you let my horse's bridle alone?' "'Captain,' replied the deaf man. "'Do not ask me who it is.' "'I tell you to release my horse,' retorted Phoebus, impatiently. "'What means the knave by clinging to the bridle of my steed? "'Do you take my horse for a gallows?' Quasimodo, far from releasing the bridle, prepared to force him to retrace his steps. Unable to comprehend the captain's resistance, he hastened to say to him,

Starting point is 16:22:51 "'Come, Captain, tis a woman who is waiting for you,' he added with an effort, "'a woman who loves you.' "'A rare rascal,' said the captain, "'who thinks me obliged to go to all the women who love me, or say they do?' And what if, by chance, she should resemble you, you face of a screech owl? Tell the woman who has sent you that I am about to marry, and that she may go to the devil. "'Listen!' exclaimed Quasimodo, thinking to overcome his hesitation with a word. "'Come, mon, signor! Tis the gypsy whom you know!'

Starting point is 16:23:32 This word did indeed produce a great effect on Phoebus, but not of the kind which the deaf man expected. It will be remembered that our gallant officer had retired with Fleur-de-Lee several moments before Quasimodo had rescued the condemned girl from the hands of Charmelo. Afterwards, in all his visits to the Gondolourier mansion, he had taken care not to mention that woman, the memory of whom was, after all, painful to him. And on her side, Fleur-de-Lee had not deemed it politic to tell him that the gypsy was alive. Hence, Phoebus believed poor similar to be dead, and that a month or two had elapsed since her death.

Starting point is 16:24:15 Let us add that for the last few moments the captain had been reflecting on the profound darkness of the night, the supernatural ugliness, the sepulchral voice of the strange messenger, that it was past midnight, that the street was deserted, as on the evening when the surly monk had accosted him, and that his horse snorted as a little bit of his horse snorted as a it looked at Quasimodo. The gypsy, he exclaimed, almost frightened. Look here. Do you come from the other world? And he laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

Starting point is 16:24:51 Quick, quick, said the deaf man, endeavoring to drag the horse along. This way! Phoebus dealt him a vigorous kick in the breast. Quasimodo's eye flashed. He made a motion to fling himself on the captain. Then he drew himself up stiffly and said, "'Oh, how happy you are to have someone who loves you!' He emphasized the words, someone, and loosing the horse's bridle,

Starting point is 16:25:20 "'Begone!' Phoebe spurred on in all haste, swearing. Quasimoda watched him disappear in the shades of the street. "'Oh!' said the poor deaf man, in a very low voice, to refuse that. He re-entered Notre Dame, lighted his lamp, and climbed to the tower again. The gypsy was still in the same place as he had supposed. She flew to meet him, as far off as she could see him. Alone, she cried, clasping her beautiful hand sorrowfully.

Starting point is 16:25:53 I could not find him, said Quasimodo coldly. You should have waited all night, she said angrily. He saw her. gesture of wrath and understood the reproach. "'I will lie and wait for him better another time,' he said, dropping his head. "'Be gone,' she said to him. He left her. She was displeased with him. He preferred to have her abuse him rather than to have afflicted her. He had kept all the pain to himself. From that day forth, the gypsy no longer

Starting point is 16:26:30 saw him. He ceased to come to her cell. At the most she occasionally caught a glimpse at the summit of the towers, of the bell-ringer's face turned sadly to her. But as soon as she perceived him, he disappeared. We must admit that she was not much grieved by this voluntary absence on the part of the poor hunchback. At the bottom of her heart she was grateful to him for it. Moreover, Quasimodo did not deceive himself on this point.

Starting point is 16:27:01 She no longer saw him, but she felt the presence of a good genius about her. Her provisions were replenished by an invisible hand during her slumbers. One morning she found a cage of birds on her window. There was a piece of sculpture above her window which frightened her. She had shown this more than once in Quasimodo's presence. One morning, for all these things happen at night, she no longer saw it. It had been broken. The person who climbed up to that carving must have risked his life. Sometimes in the evening she heard a voice, concealed beneath the windscreen of the bell-tower, singing a sad, strange song, as though to lull her to sleep. The lines were unrhymed, such as a deaf

Starting point is 16:27:48 person can make. "'Ne regardé not the figure, Jean-Fierre regard to the cure, le cuo deign, on my sovon defun me. He the decour or the love, it's conserved not. Jean-Fillet, the sapine, not beaux,

Starting point is 16:28:15 not's not beaux, as it's not poor, but he guard his foillage live. And there,

Starting point is 16:28:24 is what bond to say they, it's not but it's not but at all detre, The boutet N'em

Starting point is 16:28:33 than the bootet Avril turn the dose in January The bootet is perfect The bootet Portoo

Starting point is 16:28:44 The bootet is the sur Chose Chose that no Dese Paird D'emis

Starting point is 16:28:52 The Corbo Nol C'U The Ibo Noveled than the night The signet volet, la nui, and the jour. Look not at the face, young girl, look at the heart.

Starting point is 16:29:11 The heart of a handsome young man is often deformed. There are hearts in which love does not keep. Young girl, the pine is not beautiful, it is not beautiful like the poplar, but it keeps its foliage in winter. Alas! What is the use of saying that? That which is not beautiful has no right to exist. Beauty loves only beauty. April turns her back on January. Beauty is perfect. Beauty can do all

Starting point is 16:29:41 things. Beauty is the only thing which does not exist by halves. The raven flies only by day, the owl flies only by night. The swan flies by day and by night. One morning, on a waking, she saw on her window two vases filled with flowers. One was a very beautiful and very brilliant, but cracked vase of glass. It had allowed the water with which it had been filled to escape, and the flowers which it contained were withered. The other was an earthenware pot, coarse and common, but which had preserved all its water, and its flowers remained fresh and crimson. I know not whether it was done intentionally, but La Esmeralda took the faded nosegay and wore it all day long upon her breast.

Starting point is 16:30:35 That day she did not hear the voice singing in the tower. She troubled herself very little about it. She passed her days in caressing jolly, in watching the door of the Grand Deloree 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 bell-ringer seemed to have disappeared from the church. One night, nevertheless, when she was not asleep, but was thinking of her handsome captain, she heard something breathing near her cell. She rose in alarm and saw by the light of the moon

Starting point is 16:31:14 a shapeless mass lying across her door on the outside. It was Quasimodo asleep there upon the stones. End of Book 9, Chapter 4. Book 9, Chapter 5, of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 9, Chapter 5. The Key to the Red Door. In the meantime, Public Minor had informed the Archdeacon of the miraculous manner in which the gypsy had been saved. When he learned it, he knew not what his sensations were. He had reconciled himself to La Asmoralda's death.

Starting point is 16:32:05 In that matter, he was tranquil. He had reached the bottom of personal suffering. The human heart, Dom Claude had meditated upon these matters, can contain only a certain quantity of despair. When the sponge is saturated, the sea may pass over it without causing a single drop more to enter it. Now, with La Esmeralda dead, the sponge was soaked. All was at an end on this earth for Dom Claude.

Starting point is 16:32:34 But to feel that she was alive, and Phoebus also, meant that tortures, shocks, alternatives, life were beginning again. And Claude was weary of all this. When he heard this news, he shut himself in his cell in the cloister. He appeared neither at the meetings of the chapter, nor at the services. He closed his door against all, even against the bishop. He remained thus immured for several weeks. He was believed to be ill, and so he was, in fact.

Starting point is 16:33:08 What did he do while thus shut up? With what thoughts was the unfortunate man contending? Was he giving final battle to his formidable passion? Was he concocting a final plan of death for her and of perdition for himself? His Jahan, his cherished brother, his spoiled child, came once to his door, knocked, swore, entreated, gave his name half a score of times. Claude did not open. He passed whole days with his face close to the panes of his window.

Starting point is 16:33:43 From that window, situated in the cloister, he could see La Esmeralda's chamber. He often saw herself with her goat, sometimes with Quasimodo. He remarked the little attentions of the ugly deaf man, his obedience, his delicate and submissive ways with the gypsy. He recalled, for yet a good memory, and memory is the tormentor of the jealous. He recalled the singular look of the bell-ringer, bent on the dancer upon a certain evening. He asked himself, what motive could have impelled Quasimodo to savor? He was the witness of a thousand little scenes between the gypsy and the deaf man, the pantomime of which, viewed from afar and commented on by his passion, appeared in.

Starting point is 16:34:30 very tender to him. He distrusted the capriciousness of women. Then he felt a jealousy which he could never have believed possible awakening within him, a jealousy which made him reddened with shame and indignation. One might condone the captain, but this one, this thought upset him. His knights were frightful. As soon as he learned that the gypsy was alive, the cold ideas of specter and tomb which had persecuted him. for a whole day vanished, and the flesh returned to goad him. He turned and twisted on his couch at the thought that the dark-skinned maiden was so near to him. Every night his delirious imagination represented La Esmeralda to him in all the attitudes which had caused his blood

Starting point is 16:35:20 to boil most. He beheld her outstretched upon the poignarded captain, her eyes closed, her beautiful bare throat covered with Phoebus's blood. At that moment of bliss when the archdeacon had imprinted on her pale lips that kiss whose burn the unhappy girl, though half dead, had felt. He beheld her again, stripped by the savage hands of the torturers, allowing them to bear and to enclose in the boot with its iron screw, her tiny foot, her delicate rounded leg, her white and supple knee. Again he beheld that ivory knee which alone remained outside of Tortureux's horrible apparatus.

Starting point is 16:36:04 Lastly, he pictured the young girl in her shift, with the rope about her neck, shoulders bare, feet bare, almost nude, as he had seen her on that last day. These images of voluptuousness had made him clench his fists and a shiver run along his spine. One night, among others, they heated so cruelly his virgin and priestly blood, that he bit his pillow, leaped from his bed, flung on a surplus over his shirt, and left his cell, lamp in hand, half-naked, wild, his eyes aflain. He knew where to find the key to the red door, which connected the cloister with the church, and he always had about him, as the reader knows, the key of the staircase leading to the towers.

Starting point is 16:36:52 End of Book 9, Chapter 5. Book 9, Chapter 6, of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Liberovac's recording is in the public domain. Book 9, Chapter 6. Continuation of the Key to the Red Door. That night, La Esmerelda had fallen asleep in her cell, full of oblivion, of hope, and of sweet thoughts. She had already been asleep for some time, dreaming as always of Phoebus, when it seemed to her that she heard a noise near her.

Starting point is 16:37:35 She slept lightly and uneasily, the sleep of a bird. A mere nothing waked her. She opened her eyes. The night was very dark. Nevertheless, she saw a figure gazing at her through the window. A lamp lighted up this apparition. The moment that the figure saw that La Esmeralda had perceived it, it blew out the lamp. But the young girl had had had time to catch a glimpse of it. Her eyes closed again with terror. Oh, she said in a faint voice, the priest! All her past unhappiness came back to her like a flash of lightning. She fell back on her bed, chilled. A moment later she felt a touch along her body, which made her shudder so

Starting point is 16:38:20 that she straightened herself up in a sitting posture, wide awake and furious. The priest had just slipped in beside her. He encircled her with both arms. She tried to scream, but could not. Be gone, monster! Begone, assassin! She said, in a voice which was low and trembling with wrath and terror. Mercy! Mercy!

Starting point is 16:38:46 Murmured the priest, pressing his lips to her shoulder. She seized his bald head by its remnant of hair and tried to thrust aside his kisses as though they had been bites. "'Mercise!' repeated the unfortunate man. "'If you but knew what my love for you is! "'Tis fire, melted lead, a thousand daggers in my heart!' She stopped his two arms with superhuman force. "'Let me go,' she said, or I will spit in your face.'

Starting point is 16:39:19 He released her. "'Vilify me, strike me, be malicious. Do what you will, but have mercy. Mercy, love me!" Then she struck him with the fury of a child. She made her beautiful hands stiff to bruise his face. Be gone, demon! Love me! Love me, pity!

Starting point is 16:39:42 cried the poor priest, returning her blows with caresses. All at once she felt him stronger than herself. There must be an end to this, he said, gnashing his teeth. was conquered, palpitating in his arms and in his power. She felt a wanton hand straying over her. She made a last effort and began to cry. "'Help! Help!

Starting point is 16:40:09 A vampire! A vampire!' Nothing came. Jolly alone was awake and bleeding with anguish. "'Hush!' said the panting priest. All at once, as she struggled and crawled on the floor, the gypsy's hand came in contact with something cold. and metallic. It was Quasimodo's whistle. She seized it with a convulsive hope, raised it to her

Starting point is 16:40:33 lips, and blew with all the strength that she had left. The whistle gave a clear, piercing sound. "'What is that?' said the priest. Almost at the same instant he felt himself raised by a vigorous arm. The cell was dark. He could not distinguish clearly who it was that held him thus. But he heard teeth chattering with rage, and there was just sufficient light scattered among the gloom to allow him to see above his head the blade of a large knife. The priest fancied that he perceived the form of Quasimodo. He assumed that it could be no one but he. He remembered to have stumbled, as he entered, over a bundle which was stretched across the door on the outside. But, as the newcomer did not utter a word, he knew not what to think. He flung himself on the

Starting point is 16:41:24 arm, which held the knife, crying, "'Quasimodo!' He forgot at that moment of distress that Quasimodo was deaf. In a twinkling the priest was overthrown and a leaden knee rested on his breast. From the angular imprint of that knee he recognized Quasimodo. But what was to be done? How could he make the other recognize him? The darkness rendered the deaf man blind. He was lost. The young girl, pitiless as an enrable. Raged Tigris did not intervene to save him. The knife was approaching his head. The moment was critical. All at once his adversary seemed stricken with hesitation. "'No blood on her,' he said in a dull voice. It was, in fact, Quasimodo's voice.

Starting point is 16:42:13 Then the priest felt a large hand dragging him feet first out of the cell. It was there that he was to die. Fortunately for him the moon had risen a few moments of before. When they had passed through the door of the cell, its pale rays fell upon the priest's countenance. Quasimodo looked him full in the face, a trembling seized him, and he released the priest and shrank back. The gypsy, who had advanced to the threshold of her cell, beheld with surprise, their roles abruptly changed. It was now the priest who menaced, Quasimodo, who was the suppliant. The priest, who was overwhelming the deaf man with jessels. of wrath and reproach made the latter a violent sign to retire. The deaf man dropped

Starting point is 16:43:00 his head, then he came and knelt at the gypsy's door. "'Monsignor,' he said in a grave and resigned voice, "'you shall do all that you please afterwards, but kill me first.' So saying he presented his knife to the priest. The priest, beside himself, was about to seize it, but the young girl was quicker than he. She wrenched the knife from Quasimodo's hands and burst into a frantic laugh. Approach, she said to the priest. She held the blade high. The priest remained undecided.

Starting point is 16:43:37 She would certainly have struck him. Then she added with a pitiless expression, well aware that she was about to pierce the priest's heart with thousands of red-hot irons. Ah, I know that Phoebus is not dead. The priest overturned Quasimodo on the floor with a kick, and quivering with rage darted back under the vault of the staircase. When he was gone, Quasimodo picked up the whistle which had just saved the gypsy. "'It was getting rusty,' he said as he handed it back to her. Then he left her alone.

Starting point is 16:44:13 The young girl, deeply agitated by this violent scene, fell back exhausted on her bed and began to sob and weep. Her horizon was becoming gloomy once more. The priest had groped his way back to his cell. It was settled. Dom Claude was jealous of Quasimodo. He repeated with a thoughtful air, his fatal words, "'No one shall have her.'" End of Book 9, Chapter 6.

Starting point is 16:44:50 Book 10, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 1. Gringua has many good ideas in succession, Rue de Bernardin. As soon as Pierre Gringua had seen how this whole affair was turning and that there would decidedly be the rope, hanging, and other disagreeable things for the principal personages in this comedy, he had not cared to identify himself with the matter further.

Starting point is 16:45:24 The outcasts with whom he had remained, reflecting that, After all, it was the best company in Paris. The outcasts had continued to interest themselves in behalf of the Gypsy. He had thought it very simple on the part of people who had, like herself, nothing else in prospect but Charmeloo and Tartarru, and who, unlike himself, did not gallop through the regions of imagination between the wings of Pegasus. From their remarks he had learned that his wife of the broken crock

Starting point is 16:45:55 had taken refuge in Notre Dame, and he was very glad of it. But he felt no temptation to go and see her there. He meditated occasionally on the little goat, and that was all. Moreover, he was busy executing feats of strength during the day for his living, and at night he was engaged in composing a memorial against the Bishop of Paris, for he remembered having been drenched by the wheels of his mills, and he cherished a grudge against him for it. He also occupied himself with annotating the fine work of Baudry-La-Rouge, Bishop of Noyon and Tournay, de Coupa Petrarum, which had given him a violent, passionate for architecture, an inclination which had replaced in his heart his passion for hermeticism, of which it was,

Starting point is 16:46:44 moreover, only a natural corollary, since there was an intimate relation between hermeticism and masonry. Gringua had passed from the love of an idea to the love of the form of that idea. One day he had halted near Saint-Germain-Lawat, at the corner of a mansion called Forle-Eveque, the bishop's tribunal, which stood opposite another called Forlewa, the King's Tribunal. At this Forlevec, there was a charming chapel of the 14th century, whose apse was on the street. Gringua was devoutly examining its exterior sculptures.

Starting point is 16:47:22 He was in one of those moments of egotistical, exclusive, supreme enjoyment when the artist beholds nothing in the world but art, and the world in art. All at once he feels a hand laid gravely on his shoulder. He turns round. It was his old friend, his former master, Monsieur, the Archdeacon. He was stupefied. It was a long time since he had seen the Archdeacon, and Dom Claude was one of those solemn and impassioned men

Starting point is 16:47:52 a meeting with whom always upsets the equilibrium of a skeptical philosopher. The Archdeacon maintained silence for several minutes, during which Gringua had time to observe him. He found Dom Claude greatly changed, pale as a winter's morning, with hollow eyes and hair almost white. The priest broke the silence at length by saying, in a tranquil but glacial tone, "'How do you do, Master Pierre?'

Starting point is 16:48:20 "'My health?' replied Gringua. "'Eh! "'A! One can say both one thing and another on that score. Still, it is good on the whole. I take not too much of anything. "'You know, Master, that the secret of keeping well, according to Apocrates,

Starting point is 16:48:38 "'eatest sibipotus somni-vinus omnia-motorata scint.' "'So you have no care, Master Pierre?' "'Resume the archdeacon, gazing intently at Gringua. "'Nanifeth.' "'And what are you doing now?' "'You see, master, I am examining the chisling of these stones, and the manner in which yonder bas-relief is thrown out.' The priest began to smile with that bitter smile,

Starting point is 16:49:08 which raises only one corner of the mouth. "'And that amuses you?' "'Tis paradise!' exclaimed Gringua, and leaning over the sculptures with the fascinated air of a demonstrator of living phenomena. Do you not think, for instance, that yon metamorphosis in bar relief is executed with much adroitness,

Starting point is 16:49:30 delicacy, and patience? Observe that slender column. Around what capital have you seen foliage more tender and better caressed by the chisel? Here are three raised bosses of Jean Malivin. They are not the finest works of this great master. Nevertheless, the naivete, the sweetness of the sweetness of the faces, the gaiety of the attitudes and draperies, and that inexplicable charm which is

Starting point is 16:49:57 mingled with all the defects, render the little figures very diverting and delicate, perchance, even too much so. You think that it is not diverting? Yes, certainly, said the priest. And if you were to see the interior of the chapel, resumed the poet with his garrulous enthusiasm, them. Carvings everywhere. Tis as thickly clustered as the head of a cabbage. The apse is of a very devout and so peculiar a fashion that I have never beheld anything like it elsewhere." Dom Claude interrupted him.

Starting point is 16:50:35 "'You are happy, then?' Gringua replied warmly. "'On my honour, yes. First I loved women, then animals. Now I love stones. They are quite as amusing as women and animals, and less treacherous. The priest laid his hand on his brow. It was his habitual gesture. "'Really?' "'Stay,' said Gringwa. "'One has one's pleasures.' He took the arm of the priest, who let him have his way, and made him enter the staircase turret of Fort Levec.

Starting point is 16:51:12 "'Here is a staircase. Every time that I see it, I am happy. It is one of the simplest and rarest manner of steps in Paris. All the steps are beveled underneath. Its beauty and simplicity consist in the interspacing of both, being a foot or more wide, which are interlaced, interlocked, fitted together, enchained and chaste, interlined one upon another, and bite into each other in a manner that is truly firm and graceful. And you desire nothing? No. And you regret not. And you regret nothing? Neither regret nor desire. I have arranged my mode of life. What men arrange, said Claude, things disarrange. I am a Pyrenean philosopher,

Starting point is 16:52:04 replied Gringua, and I hold all things in equilibrium. And how do you earn your living? I still make epics and tragedies now and then, but that which brings me in most is the industry with which you are acquainted, master, carrying pyramids of chairs in my teeth. The trade is but a rough one for a philosopher. "'Tis still equilibrium,' said Gringwa. "'When one has an idea, one encounters it in everything.' "'I know that,' replied the archdeacon. After a silence, the priest resumed.

Starting point is 16:52:41 "'You are, nevertheless, tolerably poor.' "'Poor, yes, unhappy. No." At that moment a trampling of horses was heard, and our two interlocutors beheld defiling at the end of the street a company of the King's unattached archers, their lances borne high, an officer at their head. The cavalcade was brilliant and its march resounded on the pavement. How you gaze at that officer, said Gringua to the archdeacon.

Starting point is 16:53:13 Because I think I recognize him. What do you call him?" "'I think,' said Claude, "'that his name is Phoebus de Chateaupe. "'Foebus, a curious name. "'There is also a Phoebus Comte de de Foix. "'I remember having known a wench who swore only by the name of Phoebus. "'Come away from here,' said the priest.

Starting point is 16:53:37 "'I have something to say to you.' "'From the moment of that troop's passing, "'some agitation had pierced through the Archdeacon's glacial envelope. He walked on. Gringua followed him, being accustomed to obey him, like all who had once approached that man so full of ascendancy. They reached in silence the Rue de Bernardin, which was nearly deserted. Here Dom Claude paused. "'What have you to say to me, Master?' Gringua asked him. "'Do you not think that the dress of those cavaliers whom we have just seen is far handsomer

Starting point is 16:54:13 than yours and mine. Gringua tossed his head. If faith, I love better my red and yellow jerkin than those scales of iron and steel. A fine pleasure to produce when you walk the same noise as the key of old iron in an earthquake. So, Gringua, you have never cherished envy for those handsome fellows in their military doublets.

Starting point is 16:54:37 Envy for what, Monsieur the Archdeacon, their strength, their armor, their discipline, better philosophy and independence in rags. I prefer to be the head of a fly rather than the tail of a lion. That is singular, said the priest dreamily. Yet a handsome uniform is a beautiful thing. Gringua, perceiving that he was in a pensive mood, quitted him to go and admired the porch of a neighboring house. He came back clapping his hands.

Starting point is 16:55:10 If you were less engrossed with the fine clothes of men-of-war, Monsieur the Archdeacon, I would entreat you to come and see this door. I have always said that the house of the Sir Aubrey had the most superb entrance in the world. Pierre Gringua, said the Archdeacon, what have you done with that little gypsy dancer? La Esmeralda! You changed the conversation very abruptly. Was she not your wife?

Starting point is 16:55:40 Yes, by virtue of a broken crock. We were to have four years of it. By the way, added Gringwa, looking at the archdeacon in a half-bantering way, Are you still thinking of her? And you think of her no longer? Very little. I have so many things. Good heavens!

Starting point is 16:56:01 How pretty that little goat was! Had she not saved your life? Tis true, Pardu. Well, what has he? has become of her. What have you done with her?" "'I cannot tell you. I believe that they have hanged her.' "'You believe so?' I am not sure. When I saw that they wanted to hang people, I retired from the game.

Starting point is 16:56:26 "'That is all you know of it?' "'Wait a bit. I was told that she had taken refuge in Notre Dame and that she was safe there, and I am delighted to hear it, and I have not been able to to discover whether the goat was saved with her, and that is all I know." "'I will tell you more,' cried Dom Claude, and his voice, hitherto low, slow, and almost indistinct, turned to thunder. She has, in fact, taken refuge in Notre Dame. But in three days justice will reclaim her, and she will be hanged on the greve. There is a decree of Parliament.' "'That's annoying,' said Gringua.

Starting point is 16:57:10 The priest, in an instant, became cold and calm again. And who the devil, resumed the poet, has amused himself with soliciting a decree of reintegration. Why couldn't they leave Parliament in peace? What harm does it do if a poor girl takes shelter under the flying buttresses of Notre Dame beside the swallow's nests? There are satans in this world, remarked the archdeacon. Tis devilishly badly done.

Starting point is 16:57:40 observed Gringua. The Archdeacon resumed after a silence. So, she saved your life? Among my good friends, the outcasts. A little more or a little less, I should have been hanged. They would have been sorry for it today. Would not you like to do something for her? I ask nothing better, Dom Claude.

Starting point is 16:58:04 But what if I entangle myself in some villainous affair? What matters it? "'Bah! What matters it? You are good, Master, that you are. I have two great works already begun.' The priest smote his brow. In spite of the calm which he affected, a violent gesture betrayed his internal convulsions from time to time. "'How is she to be saved?' Gringwa said to him. "'Master, I will reply to you, Irpadel, which means in Turkish, God is a our hope.

Starting point is 16:58:41 How is she to be saved? repeated Claude dreamily. Gringwa smote his brow in his turn. Listen, master. I have imagination. I will devise expedience for you. What if one were to ask her pardon from the king? Of Louis XI.

Starting point is 16:59:01 A pardon? Why not? To take the tiger's bone from him? Gringua began to seek Fred. experiments. Well, stay. Shall I address to the midwives a request accompanied by the declaration that the girl is with child?"

Starting point is 16:59:21 This made the priest's hollow eye flash. With child! Neve! Do you know anything of this?" Gringwa was alarmed by his air. He hastened to say, "'Oh, no, not I. Our marriage was a real Forismeritadadium.

Starting point is 16:59:39 I stayed outside, but one might obtain a respite all the same. Madness! Infamy! Hold your tongue! You do wrong to get angry, muttered Gringua. One obtains a respite. That does no harm to anyone, and allows the midwives, or poor women, to earn Forte Dignyé parisi. The priest was not listening to him. But she must leave that place nevertheless. He murmured.

Starting point is 17:00:11 "'The decree is to be executed within three days. Moreover, there will be no decree. That, Quasimodo, women have very depraved tastes.' He raised his voice. "'Master Pierre, I have reflected well. There is but one means of safety for her.' "'What? I see none myself.'

Starting point is 17:00:32 "'Listen, Master Pierre. Remember that you owe your life to her. I will tell you my idea frankly. The church is watched night and day. Only those are allowed to come out who have been seen to enter. Hence you can enter. You will come. I will lead you to her.

Starting point is 17:00:53 You will change clothes with her. She will take your doublet. You will take her petticoat. So far it goes well, remarked the philosopher. And then? And then. She will go forth in your guise. garments. You will remain with hers. You will be hanged, perhaps, but she will be saved."

Starting point is 17:01:15 Gringwa scratched his ear with a very serious air. "'Stay,' said he, "'that is an idea which would never occur to me unaided.' At Dom Claude's proposition, the open and benign face of the poet had abruptly clouded over, like a smiling Italian landscape when an unlucky squall comes up and dashes a cloud across the sun. "'Well, Gringua, what say you to the means?' "'I say, Master, that I shall not be hanged, perchance, but that I shall be hanged indubitably. That concerns us not.'

Starting point is 17:01:53 "'The deuce,' said Gringua, "'she has saved your life. "'Tis a debt that you are discharging.' "'There are a great many others which I do not. discharge. Master Pierre, it is absolutely necessary." The Archdeacon spoke imperiously. "'Listen, Dom Claude,' replied the poet, in utter consternation.

Starting point is 17:02:18 "'You cling to that idea, and you are wrong. I do not see why I should get myself hanged in someone else's place. What have you, then, which attaches you so strongly to life? Oh, a thousand reasons! What reasons, if you please? What? The air, the sky, the morning, the evening, the moonlight, my good friends the thieves, our jeers when the old hags of go-betweens, the fine architecture of Paris to study,

Starting point is 17:02:52 three great books to make, one of them being against the bishops and his mills, and how can I tell all? Anaxagoras said that he was in the world. to admire the sun. And then, from morning till night, I have the happiness of passing all my days with a man of genius, who is myself, which is very agreeable. A head fit for a mule bell, muttered the archdeacon. Oh, tell me who preserved for you that life which you render so charming to yourself. To whom do you owe it, that you breathe that air, behold that sky, and can still amuse

Starting point is 17:03:30 your lark's mind with your whimsical nonsense. sense and madness. Where would you be, had it not been for her? Do you then desire that she, through whom you are alive, should die? That she should die, that beautiful, sweet, adorable creature, who is necessary to the light of the world and more divine than God, while you, half-wise and half-fool, a vain sketch of something, a sort of vegetable which thinks that it walks and thinks that

Starting point is 17:04:03 it thinks. You will continue to live with the life which you have stolen from her, as useless as a candle in broad daylight. Come, have a little pity, Gringwa. Be generous in your turn. It was she who set the example." The priest was vehement. Gringua listened to him at first with an undecided air. Then he became touched and wound up with a grimace which made his pallid face resemble that of a newborn infant with an attack of the colic. "'You are pathetic,' said he, wiping away a tear. "'Well, I will think about it. That's a queer idea of yours.'

Starting point is 17:04:44 "'After all,' he continued after a pause, "'who knows? Perhaps they will not hang me. He who becomes betrothed does not always marry. When they find me in that little lodging so grotesquely muffed in petticoat and quaff, perchance they will burst with laugh And then, if they do hang me, well, the halter is as good a death as any. Tis a death worthy of a sage who has wavered all his life, a death which is neither flesh nor fish, like the mind of a veritable skeptic, a death all stamped with Pyrrhenism and hesitation, which holds the middle station betwixt heaven and earth, which leaves you in suspense. Tissa philosopher's death, and I was destined there too, perchance.

Starting point is 17:05:35 It is magnificent to die as one has lived.' The priest interrupted him. Is it agreed? What is death, after all? Pursued Gringua with exultation. A disagreeable moment, a toll-gate, the passage of little to nothingness. Someone, having asked Cursadus, the Megalapolitan,

Starting point is 17:05:58 if he were willing to die, Why not, he replied, for after my death I shall see those great men, Pythagoras among the philosophers, Hecateus among historians, Homer among poets, Olympus among musicians. The archdeacon gave him his hand. It is settled then, you will come tomorrow? This gesture recalled Gringua to reality. Ah, in faith, no, he said in the tone of a man just waking up, "'Be hanged. Tis too absurd. I will not.'

Starting point is 17:06:33 "'Farewell, then,' and the archdeacon added between his teeth. "'I'll find you again.' "'I do not want that devil of a man to find me,' thought Gringua, and he ran after Dom Claude. "'Stay, monsieur the archdeacon, no ill-feeling between old friends. "'You take an interest in that girl, my wife, I mean, and tis well.' You have devised a scheme to get her out of Notre Dame, but your way is extremely disagreeable to me Gringua. If I had only another one of myself, I beg to say that a luminous inspiration has just occurred

Starting point is 17:07:12 to me. If I possessed an expedient for extricating her from a dilemma, without compromising my own neck to the extent of a single running knot, what would you say to it? Will not that suffice you? Is it absolutely necessary that I should be hand to me? in order that you may be content?" The priest tore out the buttons of his cassock with impatience. "'Stream of words! What is your plan?'

Starting point is 17:07:38 "'Yes,' resumed Gringwa, talking to himself and touching his nose with his forefinger in a sign of meditation. "'That's it. The thieves are brave fellows. The tribe of Egypt lover. They will rise at the first word. Nothing easier. A sudden stroke. under cover of the disorder they will easily carry her off, beginning tomorrow evening. They will ask nothing better. The plan! Speak! cried the archdeacon, shaking him. Gringua turned majestically towards him.

Starting point is 17:08:18 Leave me. You see that I am composing? He meditated for a few moments more, then began to clap his hands over his thought, crying, "'Admirable! Success is sure!' "'The plan!' repeated Claude in wrath. Gringua was radiant. "'Come that I may tell you that very softly. "'Tis a truly gallant counterplot, which will extricate us all from the matter. "'Pardieu, it must be admitted that I am no fool.'

Starting point is 17:08:52 He broke off. "'Oh, by the way, is the little goat with the wench?' "'Yes, the devil take you.' "'They would have hanged it also, would they not?' "'What is that to me?' "'Yes, they would have hanged it. They hanged a sow last month. The headsman loveth that. He eats the beast afterwards.

Starting point is 17:09:15 "'Take my pretty jolly, poor little lamb.' "'Malidiction!' 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.' Gringwa bent his head to the archdeacon's head and spoke to him in a very low voice,

Starting point is 17:09:39 casting an uneasy glance the while from one end to the other of the street, though no one was passing. When he had finished, Dom Claude took his hand and said coldly, "'Tis well. Farewell until to-morrow.' "'Until tomorrow,' repeated Gringua. And, while the archdeacon was disappearing in one direction, he set off in the other, saying to himself in a low voice, "'Here's a grand affair, Monsieur Pierre Gringua.

Starting point is 17:10:10 Never mind, tis not written that because one is of small account one should take fright at a great enterprise. Bittu carried a great bull on his shoulders. The water-wig-tails, the warblers, and the buntings traverse the ocean. End of Book 10, Chapter 1. Book 10, Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 2, Turn Vagabond. On re-entering the cloister, the archdeacon found at the door of his cell, his brother, Jean de Molin,

Starting point is 17:10:54 who was waiting for him, and who had beguiled the tedium of waiting, by drawing on the wall with a bit of charcoal, a profile of his elder brother enriched with a monstrous nose. Dom Claude hardly looked at his brother. His thoughts were elsewhere. That Mary Scamp's face, whose beaming had so often restored serenity to the priest's somber physiognomy, was now powerless to melt the gloom which grew more dense every day over that corrupted, mephitic, and stagnant soul. "'Brother,' said Jehan timidly, I am come to see you.

Starting point is 17:11:32 The archdeacon did not even raise his eyes. What then? Brother, resumed the hypocrite, You are so good to me, and you have given me such wise counsels that I always return to you. What next? Alas, brother!

Starting point is 17:11:50 You were perfectly right when you said to me, Jehan, Jehan, Jeanne, Seat Doctorum, Doctorina, Disipollorum, Disipollina. Jehan be wise, Jeanne be learned, Jeanne pass not the night outside of the college without lawful occasion and do leave of the master. Cudgel not the Picard's. Noli Johannes, Verbarare Picardos, rot not like an unlettered ass, quasi-asinos illateratus, on the straw seats of the school.

Starting point is 17:12:25 "'Shahan, allow yourself to be punished at the discretion of the master. "'Jahan, go every evening to chapel, "'and sing there an anthem with verse and horizon to Madame the glorious Virgin Mary. "'Alas, what excellent advice was that?' "'And then—' "'Brother, you behold a culprit, a criminal, a wretch, a libertine, a man of enormities. My dear brother, Jehan hath made of your counsel's straw and dung to trample underfoot. I have been well chastised for it, and God is extraordinarily just.

Starting point is 17:13:07 As long as I had money, I feasted. I led a mad and joyous life. Oh, how ugly and crabbed behind is debauch, which is so charming in front. Now I have no longer a blank. I have sold my napery, my shirt, and my towels. No more merry life. The beautiful candle is extinguished, and I have henceforth only a wretched tallowed dip which smokes in my nose. The wenches jeer at me. I drink water. I am overwhelmed with remorse and with creditors. The rest, said the archdeacon. Alas, my very dear brother, I should like to settle.

Starting point is 17:13:51 down to a better life. I come to you full of contrition. I am penitent. I make my confession. I beat my breast violently. You are quite right in wishing that I should someday become a licentiate and sub-monitor in the College of Torquy. At the present moment, I feel a magnificent vocation for that profession. But I have no more ink, and I must buy some. I have no more paper. I have no more books, and I must buy some. For this purpose, I am greatly in need of a little money, and I come to you, brother, with my heart full of contrition. Is that all?' "'Yes,' said the scholar, "'a little money.'

Starting point is 17:14:37 "'I have none.' Then the scholar said, with an air which was both grave and resolute, "'Well, brother, I am sorry to be obliged to tell you that very fine offers and propositions are being made to me in another quarter. You will not give me any money? No. In that case, I shall become a professional vagabond. As he uttered these monstrous words, he assumed the mean of Ajax, expecting to see the lightnings descend upon his head. The archdeacon said coldly to him, "'Become a vagabond.' Shahan made a deep bow and descended the cloisterer stairs, whistling.

Starting point is 17:15:20 At the moment when he was passing through the courtyard of the cloister, beneath his brother's window, he heard that window open, raised his eyes, and beheld the archdeacon's severe head emerge. "'Go to the devil,' said Dom Claude. "'Here is the last money which you will get from me.' At the same time the priest flung Jahan a purse, which gave the scholar a big bump on the forehead, and with which Jehan retreated, both vexed and content, like a dog who had been stoned with marrow bones. End of Book 10, Chapter 2.

Starting point is 17:16:02 Book 10, Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 3. Long live mirth. The reader has probably not forgotten that a part of the Corps de Miracles was enclosed by the ancient wall which surrounded the city, a goodly number of whose towers had begun, even at that epoch, to fall to ruin. One of these towers had been converted into a pleasure resort by the vagabonds. There was a drain-shop in the underground story, and the rest in the upper stories. This was the most lively, and consequently the most hideous, point of the whole

Starting point is 17:16:44 outcast den. It was a sort of monstrous hive, which buzzed there night and day. At night, when the remainder of the beggar horde slept, when there was no longer a window-lander lighted in the dingy facades of the place, when not a cry was any longer to be heard proceeding from those innumerable families, those ant-hills of thieves, of wenches, and stolen or bastard children, the merry tower was still recognizable by the noise which had made, by the scarlet light which, flashing simultaneously from the air-holes, the windows, the fissures and the cracked walls, escaped, so to speak, from its very poor. The cellar, then, was the dram shop. The descent to it was through a low door and by a staircase as steep as a classic Alexandria.

Starting point is 17:17:33 Over the door, by way of a sign, there hung a marvelous daub, representing new sons and dead chickens, with this pun below. Osoniers for de trappace, the ringers for the dead. One evening, when the curfew was sounding from all the belfries in Paris, the sergeants of the watch might have observed, had it been granted to them to enter the formidable court of miracles, that more tumult than usual was in progress in the vagabond's tavern, that more drinking was being done and louder swearing. Outside in the place there were many groups conversing in low tones, as when some great plan is being formed,

Starting point is 17:18:16 and here and there a knave crouching down engaged in sharpening a villainous iron blade on a paving stone. Meanwhile, in the tavern itself, wine and gaming offered such a powerful diversion to the ideas which occupied the vagabond's lair that evening that it would have been difficult to divine from the remarks of the drinkers what was the matter in hand. They merely wore a gayer air than was their want, and some weapon could be seen glittering between the legs of each of them, a sickle, an axe, a big two-edged sword, or the hook of an old hackbutt.

Starting point is 17:18:52 The room, circular in form, was very spacious. But the tables were so thickly set, and the drinker so numerous, that all that the tavern contained, men, women, benches, beer jugs, all that were drinking, all that were sleeping, all that were playing, the well, the lame, seemed piled up pell-mell, with as much order and harmony as a heap of oyster shells. There were a few tallow dips lighted on the tables, but the real luminary of this tavern, that which played the part in this dram shop of the chandelier of an opera house, was the fire. This cellar was so damp that the fire was never allowed to go out, even in mid-summer.

Starting point is 17:19:35 An immense chimney with a sculptured mantle, all bristling with heavy iron-and-irons and cooking utensils, with one of those huge fires of mixed wood and peat, which at night in the village streets make the reflection of forge-window stand out so red on the opposite walls. A big dog, gravely seated in the ashes, was turning a spit loaded with meat before the coals. Great as was the confusion, after the first glance, one could distinguish in that multitude three principal groups which thronged around three personages already known to the reader. One of these personages, fantastically accoutred in many in Oriental rag, was Matthias Hungadi of Spakali, Duke of Egypt and Bohemia.

Starting point is 17:20:21 The knave was seated on a table with his legs crossed, and in a loud voice was bestowing his knowledge of magic, both black and white, on many a gaping face which surrounded him. Another rabble pressed close around our old friend, the valiant king of Tuné, armed to the teeth, Clopin Trifo. with a very serious air, and in a low voice, was regulating the distribution of an enormous cask of arms, which stood wide open in front of him, and from whence poured out in profusion axes, swords, bassinets, coats of mail, broad swords, lance-heads, arrows and viritons,

Starting point is 17:21:00 like apples and grapes from a horn of plenty. Everyone took something from the cask, one a morion, another a long straight-sword, another a dagger with a cross-shaped hilt. The very children were arming themselves, and there were even cripples in bowls, who, in armor and queris, made their way between the legs of the drinkers like great beetles. Finally, a third audience, the most noisy, the most jovial, and the most numerous, encumbered benches and tables in the midst of which harangued and swore a flute-like voice, which escaped from beneath a heavy armor, complete from cast to spurs. The individual who had thus screwed a whole outfit upon his body was so hidden by his

Starting point is 17:21:48 warlike accoutrements that nothing was to be seen of his person save an impertinent red snub nose, a rosy mouth, and bold eyes. His belt was full of daggers and poniards, a huge sword on his hip, a rusted crossbow at his left, and a vast jug of wine in front of him, about reckoning on his right, a fat wench with their bosom uncovered. All mouths around him were laughing, cursing, and drinking. Add twenty secondary groups, the waiters, male and female, running with jugs on their heads, gamblers, squatters, marils, dice, vachettes, the ardent game of Tringlet, quarrels in one corner, kisses in another, and the reader will have some idea of this whole picture, over which

Starting point is 17:22:36 flickered the light of a great flaming fire which made a thousand huge and grotesque shadows dance over the walls of the drinking shop. As for the noise, it was like the inside of a bell at full peel. The dripping pan, where crackled a rain of grease, filled with its continual sputtering the intervals of these thousand dialogues, which intermingled from one end of the apartment to the other. In the midst of this uproar, at the extremity of the tavern on the bench inside the chimney sat a philosopher meditating with his feet in the ashes and his eyes on the brands. It was Pierre Gringwa. "'Be quick! Make haste! Arm yourselves! We set out on the march in an hour!' said Clopin-tree

Starting point is 17:23:23 foe to his thieves. A wench was humming. "'Bonsois, mon perit mairet, la Fue!' Two card players were disputing. "'Nave!' cried the reddest face of the two, shaking his fist at the other. "'I'll mark you with the club. You can take the place of Mastigri in the pack of cards of Monsieur the King.' "'Agg!' roared a Norman,

Starting point is 17:23:52 recognizable by his nasal accent. "'We are packed in here like the saints of Kauvi.' "'My sons!' the Duke of Egypt was saying to his audience in a falsetto voice. Soesresses in France go to the Witch's Sabbath without broomsticks or grease or steed, merely by means of some magic words. The witches of Italy always have a buck waiting for them at their door. All are bound to go out through the chimney. The voice of a young scamp, armed from head to foot, dominated the uproar. Hurrah! Hurrah! he was shouting.

Starting point is 17:24:30 My first day in armor! Outcast! I am an outcast! Give me something to drink! My friends, my name is Jehan Frollo Dumalan, and I am a gentleman. My opinion is that if God were a gendarme, he would turn rubber. Brothers, we are about to set out on a fine expedition. Lay siege to the church, burst in the doors, drag out the beautiful girl, save her from the judges, save her from the priests, dismantle the cloister, burn the bishop in his palace, all this we will do in less time than it takes for a burgomaster to eat a spoonful of soup. Our cause is just. We will plunder Notre Dame, and that will be the end of it. We will hang Quasimodo. Do you know Quasimodo,

Starting point is 17:25:21 ladies? Have you seen him make himself breathless on the big bell on a great Pentecost festival? Coné du Père, tis very fine. One day's very fine. One would say he was a devil mounted on a man. Listen to me, my friends. I am a vagabond to the bottom of my heart. I am a member of the slang thief gang in my soul. I was born an independent thief. I have been rich, and I have devoured all my property. My mother wanted to make an officer of me. My father, a sub-deacon. My aunt, a counselor of inquests. My grandmother, Prothon, notary to the king, my great-aunt, a treasure of the short-robe, and I have made myself an outcast.

Starting point is 17:26:09 I said this to my father, who spit his curse in my face, to my mother, who set to weeping and chattering, poor old lady, like yonder faggot on the and-irons. Long-live mirth! I am a real besetra. Waitress, my dear, more wine. I have still the wherewithal to pay. I want no more serene wine. It distresses my throat. I des leaf, kerbuff, gargle my throat with a basket." Meanwhile, the rabble applauded with shouts of laughter, and seeing that the tumult was increasing

Starting point is 17:26:44 around him, the scholar cried, "'Oh, what a fine noise! Populi di Picontis, populoso, De Piccateo!' Then he began to sing, his eye swimming in ecstasy, in the tone of a cannon, in toning vespers. Coe cantica, coe oorgana, coe cantillanoe, coe melecloe, hick sine fine decantur,

Starting point is 17:27:13 sonant meleflua hymnoram igona, suavisima angeloorum melodia, cantica canticorum mira. He broke off, Tavern keeper of the devil, Give me some supper!" There was a moment of partial silence during which the sharp voice of the Duke of Egypt rose as he gave instructions to his bohemians.

Starting point is 17:27:39 "'The weasel is called a drune, the fox, bluefoot or the racer of the woods. The wolf, greyfoot or goldfoot, the bear, old man or grandfather. The cap of a gnome confers invisibility and causes one to behold invisible things. kings. Every toad that is baptized must be clad in red or black velvet. A bell on its neck, a bell on its feet. The godfather holds its head, the godmother its hender parts. Tis the demon Sidagrasum, who has the power to make wenches dance stark naked." "'By the mass,' interrupted Jehan, "'I should like to be the demon Sidrogasum.' Meanwhile, the vagabonds continue to arm themselves and whisper at the

Starting point is 17:28:28 other end of the dram shop." "'That poor Esmeralda,' said a Bohemian, "'she is our sister. She must be taken away from there.' "'Is she still at Notre Dame?' went on a merchant with the appearance of a Jew. "'Yes, Pardieu.' "'Well, comrades!' exclaimed the merchant, "'to Notre Dame! So much the better, since there are in the Chapel of St. Ferriol and Ferruthian two statues, the one of John the Baptist, the other of St. Antoine, of solid gold, weighing together seven

Starting point is 17:29:03 marks of gold and fifteen estalan, and the pedestals are of silver gilt, of seventeen marks five ounces. I know that. I am a goldsmith. Here they serve Jahan with his supper. As he threw himself back on the bosom of the wench beside him, he exclaimed, By St. Vaudeluc, whom people call St. Gogolieu, I am perfectly happy. I have before me a fool who gazes at me with the smooth face of an archduke. Here is one on my left whose teeth are so long that they hide his chin. And then I am like the Marsha de Gué at the siege of Pantois. I have my right resting on a hillock.

Starting point is 17:29:47 Vontre mayome. Comrade, you have the air of a merchant of tennis-ball. and you come and sit yourself beside me. I am a nobleman, my friend. Trade is incompatible with nobility. Get out of that. Olae! You others, don't fight. What? Baptiste Croquasson.

Starting point is 17:30:08 You who have such a fine nose are going to risk it against the big fist of that lout. Fool! Non-quicam datum est hiberi nassum. Not everyone is favored with a nose. You are really divine, Jacqueline Rang Joray. Tis a pity that you have no hair. "'Ola! My name is Jehan Frollo, and my brother is an archdeacon.

Starting point is 17:30:34 May the devil fly off with him. All that I tell you is the truth. In turning vagabond, I have gladly renounced the half of a house situated in paradise, which my brother had promised me. Dima diomumum in Paradiso. I quote the text. I have a thief in the rue to Chappay, and all the women are in love with me, as true as Saint-Ele-ois was an excellent goldsmith, and that the five trades of the good city of Paris are the

Starting point is 17:31:03 tanners, the towers, the makers of cross-belts, the purse-makers, and the sweaters, and that Saint-Laurent was burnt with egg-shells. I swear to you, comrades, that je ne beavert da peppment, devont on an an si jesement. "'That I will drink no spiced and honey wine for a year if I am lying now. "'Tis the moonlight, my charmer. "'See yonder through the window how the wind is tearing the clouds to tatters. "'Even thus will I do to your gorges. "'Wenches, wipe the children's noses and snuff the candles.

Starting point is 17:31:39 "'Christ and Mahom! What am I eating here? Jupiter? "'O.A! Inkeeper! The hair which is not on the heads of your hussies, one fine and your omelets! Old woman, I like bald omelets! May the devil confound you! A fine hostelry of Beelzebub, where the hussies comb their heads with the forks! Anjeané, me, por la saint-du, ni foe, ne wa, no foe, ne lew, ne'-du. And by the blood of God, I have neither faith nor law, nor fire, nor dwelling-place, nor King nor God." In the meantime, Clopantrie foe had finished the distribution of arms.

Starting point is 17:32:26 He approached Gringua, who appeared to be plunged in a profound reverie, with his feet on an andiron. "'Friend Pierre,' said the King of Tunei, "'what the devil are you thinking about?' Gringua turned to him with a melancholy smile. "'I love the fire, my dear Lord. for the trivial reason that fire warms the feet or cooks our soup, but because it has sparks. Sometimes I pass whole hours in watching the sparks. I discover a thousand things in those stars which are sprinkled over the black background of the hearth. Those stars are also

Starting point is 17:33:05 worlds. "'Thunder, if I understand you,' said the outcast. "'Do you know what a clock it is?' "'I do not know,' replied Gringua. Japan approached the Duke of Egypt. "'Comrade Matthias, the time we have chosen is not a good one. King Louis Xilventh is said to be in Paris.' "'Another reason for snatching our sister from his claws,' replied the old bohemian. "'You speak like a man, Matthias,' said the King of Tune. Moreover, we will act promptly. No resistance is to be feared in the church.

Starting point is 17:33:42 The cannons are hares, and we are in force. people of the Parliament will be well balked tomorrow when they come to seeker. Guts of the Pope, I don't want them to hang the pretty girl." Clopin quitted the dram shop. Meanwhile, Shahan was shouting in a hoarse voice, "'I eat! I drink! I am drunk! I am Jupiter! Hey, Pierre, the slaughterer! If you look at me like that again, I'll fill up the dust off your nose for you!' Gringwa, torn from his meditations, began to watch the wild and noisy scene which surrounded him, muttering between his teeth. Luxurioso, res vinum et tumultuoso, eprietas.

Starting point is 17:34:27 Alas, what good reason I have not to drink, and how excellently spoke Saint-Banois, Vinum apostatari facit itiam sapientes. At that moment Clopin returned and shouted in a voice of thunder, "'Midnight!' At this word, which produced the effect of the call to boot and saddle on a regiment at a halt, all the outcasts, men, women, children, rushed in a mass from the tavern, with great noise of arms and old iron implements. The moon was obscured.

Starting point is 17:35:03 The court of miracles was entirely dark. There was not a single light. One could make out there a throng of men and women conversing in low tones. They could be heard buzzing. and a gleam of all sorts of weapons was visible in the darkness. Klophan mounted a large stone. "'Tur your ranks, Argot!' he cried. "'Fall into line, Egypt!

Starting point is 17:35:27 Form ranks, Galilee!' A movement began in the darkness. The immense multitude appeared to form in a column. After a few minutes the King of Tunei raised his voice once more. "'Now, silence to march through Paris! The pass where it is, little sword in pocket. The torches will not be lighted till we reach Notre Dame. Forward! March! Ten minutes later, the cavaliers of the watch fled in terror before a long procession of black and silent men, which was descending towards the Pontoshage,

Starting point is 17:36:03 through the tortuous streets which pierced the close-built neighborhood of the markets in every direction. End of Book 10, Chapter 3. Book 10, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 4, An Awkward Friend That night, Quasimodo did not sleep. He had just made his last round of the church. He had not noticed that at the moment when he was closing the doors, the Archdeacon Archdeacon had passed close to him and betrayed some displeasure on seeing him bolting and barring with care the enormous iron locks which gave to their large leaves the solidity

Starting point is 17:36:55 of a wall. Dom Claude's air was even more preoccupied than usual. Moreover, since the nocturnal adventure in the cell he had constantly abused Quasimodo, but in vain did he ill-treat, and even beat him occasionally, nothing disturbed the submission. mission, patience, the devoted resignation of the faithful bell-ringer. He endured everything on the part of the archdeacon, insults, threats, blows, without murmuring a complaint. At the most he gazed uneasily after Dom Claude when the latter ascended the staircase of the tower, but the archdeacon had abstained from presenting himself again before the gypsy's eyes. On that night, accordingly, Quasimodo, after having cast a glance at his poor

Starting point is 17:37:43 bells, which he so neglected now, Jacqueline, Marie, and Thibaut, mounted to the summit of the northern tower, and there, setting his dark lantern well-closed upon the leads, he began to gaze at Paris. The night, as we have already said, was very dark. Paris, which, so to speak, was not lighted at that epoch, presented to the eye a confused collection of black masses, cut here and there by the whitish curve of the same. Quasimodo no longer saw any light with the exception of one window in a distant edifice, whose vague and somber profile was outlined well above the roofs, in the direction of the port St. Antoine. There also there was someone awake. As the only eye of the bell-ringer peered into that horizon of mist and night, he felt within him an inexpressible uneasiness. For several days he had been upon his guard. He had perceived men of sinister, Maine, who never took their eyes from the young girl's asylum, prowling constantly about the church.

Starting point is 17:38:49 He fancied that some plot might be in process of formation against the unhappy refugee. He imagined that there existed a popular hatred against her, as against himself, and that it was very possible that something might happen soon. Hence he remained upon his tower on the watch, dreaming in his dream place, as Rebellé says, with his eye directed ultimately. alternately on the cell and on Paris, keeping faithful guard like a good dog with a thousand suspicions in his mind. All at once, while he was scrutinizing the great city with that eye, which nature, by a sort of compensation, had made so piercing, that it could almost supply the other organs which

Starting point is 17:39:34 Quasimoto lacked, it seemed to him that there was something singular about the key de la Vieux Palatari, that there was a movement at that point, that the line of the parapet, standing out blackly against the whiteness of the water, was not straight and tranquil, like that of the other keys, but that it undulated to the eye, like the waves of a river, or like the heads of a crowd in motion. This struck him as strange. He redoubled his attention. The movement seemed to be advancing towards the city. There was no light. It lasted lasted for some time on the key, then it gradually ceased, as though that which was passing were entering the interior of the island, then it stopped altogether, and the line of the

Starting point is 17:40:20 key became straight and motionless again. At the moment when Quasimodo was lost in conjectures it seemed to him that the movement had reappeared in the Rue du Parvee, which is prolonged into the city perpendicularly to the façade of Notre Dame. length, dense as was the darkness, he beheld the head of a column debauched from that street, and in an instant a crowd, of which nothing could be distinguished in the gloom except that it was a crowd, spread over the place. This spectacle had a terror of its own.

Starting point is 17:40:57 It is probable that this singular procession, which seemed so desirous of concealing itself under profound darkness, maintained a silence no less profound. Nevertheless, some noise must have escaped it, were it only a trampling. But this noise did not even reach our deaf man, and this great multitude of which he saw hardly anything, and of which he heard nothing, though it was marching and moving so near him, produced upon him the effect of a rabble of dead men, mute, impalpable, lost in a smoke. It seemed to him that he beheld advancing towards him a fog of men, and that he saw shadows moving in the shadow.

Starting point is 17:41:42 Then his fears returned to him, the idea of an attempt against the gypsy presented itself once more to his mind. He was conscious, in a confused way, that a violent crisis was approaching. At that critical moment he took counsel with himself, with better and prompter reasoning than one would have expected from so badly organized a brain. ought he to awaken the gypsy, to make her escape, whither? The streets were invested, the church backed on the river. No boat, no issue.

Starting point is 17:42:16 There was but one thing to be done, to allow himself to be killed on the threshold of Notre Dame, to resist at least until succor arrived, if it should arrive, but not to trouble La Esmeralda's sleep. This resolution once taken, he set to examining. the enemy with more tranquillity. The throng seemed to increase every moment in the church square. Only, he presumed that it must be making very little noise, since the windows on the place remained closed.

Starting point is 17:42:48 All at once a flame flashed up, and in an instant seven or eight lighted torches passed over the heads of the crowd, shaking their tufts of flame in the deep shade. Quasimodo then beheld distinctly surging in the parvie a frightful hurt. heard of men and women in rags, armed with sides, pikes, billhooks, and partisans, whose thousand points glittered. Here and there black pitchforks formed horns to the hideous faces. He vaguely recalled this populace, and thought that he recognized all the heads who had saluted him as Pope of the Fools some months previously. One man, who held a torch in one hand and a club in the other, mounted a stone post and seemed to be haranguing.

Starting point is 17:43:34 them. At the same time, the strange army executed several evolutions, as though it were taking up its post around the church. Quasimodo picked up his lantern and descended to the platform between the towers, in order to get a nearer view and to spy out a means of defense. Clopin Trifaux, on arriving in front of the lofty portal of Notre Dame, had in fact arranged his troops in order of battle. Although he expected no resistance, he was a He wished, like a prudent general, to preserve an order which would permit him to face, at need, a sudden attack of the watch or the police. He had, accordingly, stationed his brigade in such a manner that, viewed from above and from

Starting point is 17:44:18 a distance, one would have pronounced it the Roman triangle of the Battle of Ignomus, the boar's head of Alexander, or the famous wedge of Gustavus Adolphus. The base of this triangle rested on the back of the place in such a manner, and as to bar the entrance of the Rue de Parvee. One of its sides faced Hotel D'Eux, the other the Rue Saint-Pierre-O'Bouffe. Clopin-Trieffautrille had placed himself at the apex with the Duke of Egypt, our friend Jehanne, and the most daring of the scavengers. An enterprise like that which the vagabonds were now undertaking against Notre Dame was not a very

Starting point is 17:44:58 rare thing in the cities of the Middle Ages. What we now call the police did not exist then. In populous cities, especially in capitals, there existed no single, central regulating power. Fudalism had constructed these great communities in a singular manner. A city was an assembly of a thousand seigneuries, which divided it into compartments of all shapes and sizes. Hence, a thousand conflicting establishments of police. that is to say, no police at all. In Paris, for example, independently of the 141 lords who laid claim to a manner, there were

Starting point is 17:45:39 five and twenty who laid claim to a manner and to administering justice, from the Bishop of Paris, who had five hundred streets, to the prior of Notre Dame de Shop, who had four. All these feudal justices recognized the suzerain authority of the king only in name. All possessed the right of control over the road. all were at home. Louis X. That indefatigable worker, who so largely began the demolition of the feudal edifice, continued by Richelieu and Louis Xilu for the profit of royalty, and finished by Mirabeau for the benefit

Starting point is 17:46:16 of the people, Louis XI. had certainly made an effort to break this network of seigneuries which covered Paris, by throwing violently across them all two or three troops of general police. Thus, in 1465, in order to the inhabitants to light candles in their windows at nightfall, and to shut up their dogs under penalty of death. In the same year, in order to close the streets in the evening with iron chains, and a prohibition to wear daggers or weapons of offense in the streets at night. But in very short time, all these efforts at communal legislation fell into abeyance.

Starting point is 17:46:55 The bourgeois permitted the wind to blow out their candles in the windows, and their dogs to stray. The iron chains were stretched only in a state of siege. The prohibition to wear daggers wrought no other changes than from the name of the Rue Kuguel to the name of the Rue Kugurge, which is an evident progress. The old scaffolding of feudal jurisdictions remain standing. An immense aggregation of bailiwicks and seigniories

Starting point is 17:47:24 crossing each other all over the city, interfering with each other, entangling in one another, enmeshing each other, trespassing on each other, a useless thicket of watches, sub-watches, and counter-watches, over which, with armed force, passed brigandage, rapin, and sedition. Hence, in this disorder, deeds of violence on the part of the populace directed against a palace, a hotel, or house in the most thickly populated quarters, were not unheard-of occurrences. In the majority of such cases, the neighbors did not meddle with the matter unless the pillaging extended to themselves.

Starting point is 17:48:03 They stopped up their ears to the musket shots, closed their shutters, barricaded their doors, allowed the matter to be concluded with or without the watch, and on the next day it was said in Paris, Atien Barbette was broken open last night, the Marshal de Clermont was seized last night, etc. Hence, not only the royal habitations, the Louvre, the palace, the Bastille, the Tournel, but simply signorial residences, the Petit Bourbon, the Hotel de Saint, the Hotel de Angélame, etc., had battlements on their walls and machicalations over their doors.

Starting point is 17:48:42 Churches were guarded by their sanctity. Some, among the number Notre Dame, were fortified. The Abbey of Saint-Germain-de-Prey was castellated like a baronie. mansion, and more brass expended about it in bombards than in bells. Its fortress was still to be seen in 1610. Today, barely its church remains. Let us return to Notre Dame. When the first arrangements were completed, and we must say, to the honor of the vagabond discipline, that Klopin's orders were executed in silence, and with admirable precision. The worthy chief of the band mounted on the parapet of the church square, and raised his horse and surly voice, turning towards

Starting point is 17:49:26 Notre Dame, and brandishing his torch, whose light tossed by the wind, and veiled every moment by its own smoke, made the reddish facade of the church appear and disappear before the eye. "'To you, Louis de Beaumont, Bishop of Paris, counsellor in the Court of Parliament, I, Clopan-Try-Foe, King of Tune, Grand Cuez, 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. Now the Court of Parliament wishes to seize her once more there, and you consent to it, so that she would be hanged tomorrow in the grieve, if God and the outcasts,

Starting point is 17:50:16 were not here. If your church is sacred, so is our sister. If our sister is not sacred, neither is your church. That is why we call upon you to return the girl if you wish to save your church, or we will take possession of the girl again and pillage the church, which will be a good thing. In token of which I here plant my banner, and make God preserve you Bishop of Paris." Quasimodo could not, unfortunately, hear these words, uttered with a sort of somber and savage majesty. A vagabon 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 Tune turned round and cast his eyes over his army, a fierce multitude

Starting point is 17:51:12 whose glances flashed almost equally with their pikes. After a momentary pause, "'forward my sons!' he cried. "'To work, locksmiths!' Thirty bold men, square-shouldered, with pick-lock faces, stepped from the ranks with hammers, pincers, and bars of iron on their shoulders. They betook themselves to the principal door of the church, ascended the steps, and were soon to be seen squatting under the arch,

Starting point is 17:51:41 working at the door with pincers and levers. A throng of vagabonds followed them to help or look on. The eleven steps before the portal were covered with them. But the door stood firm. "'The devil! Tis hard and obstinate!' said one. "'It is old, and its gristles have become bony,' said another. "'Courage, comrades,' resumed Clopin. "'I wager my head against a dipper

Starting point is 17:52:09 "'that you will have opened the door, rescue the girl, the girl and despoiled the chief altar before a single beetle is awake. Stay! I think I hear the lock breaking up!' Clopin was interrupted by a frightful uproar which resounded behind him at that moment. He wheeled round. An enormous beam had just fallen from above. It had crushed a dozen vagabonds on the pavement with the sound of a cannon, breaking, in addition, legs here and there in the crowd of beggars, who sprang aside with cries of terror. In a twinkling, the narrow precincts of the Church Parvee were cleared.

Starting point is 17:52:45 The locksmits, although protected by the deep vaults of the portal, abandoned the door, and Clopin himself retired to a respectful distance from the church. "'I had a narrow escape!' cried Jehan. "'I felt the wind of it. "'De de buff! But Pierre, the slaughterer, is slaughtered!' It is impossible to describe the astonishment mingled with fright which fell upon the ruffians in company with this beam. They remained for several minutes with their eyes in the air, more dismayed

Starting point is 17:53:17 by that piece of wood than by the king's twenty thousand archers. Satan! muttered the Duke of Egypt. This smacks of magic! "'Tis the moon which threw this log at us,' said Andri the Red. "'Call the moon the friend of the Virgin after that,' went on Francois Chant-Priné. "'A thousand popes!' exclaimed Clopin. you are all fools! But he did not know how to explain the fall of the beam. Meanwhile, nothing could be distinguished on the facade,

Starting point is 17:53:52 to whose summit the light of the torches did not reach. The heavy beam lay in the middle of the enclosure, and groans were heard from the poor wretches who had received its first shock, and who had been almost cut in twain on the angle of the stone steps. The king of Tune, his first amazing, met past, finally found an explanation which appeared plausible to his companions. Throat of God! Are the cannons defending themselves? To the sack, then! To the sack!

Starting point is 17:54:23 To the sack! repeated the rabble with a furious hurrah. A discharge of crossbows and hackbuts against the front of the church followed. At this detonation the peaceable inhabitants of the surrounding houses woke up. Many windows were seen to open, and nightcaps and hands holding candles appeared at the casements. "'Fire at the windows!' shouted Clopin. The windows were immediately closed, and the poor bourgeois, who had hardly had time to cast a frightened glance on this scene of gleams and tumult, returned perspiring with fear to their wives,

Starting point is 17:54:59 asking themselves whether the witch's Sabbath was now being held in the parvée of Notre Dame, or whether there was an assault of Burgundians, as in 64. Then the husbands thought of theft, the wives of rape and all trembled. "'To the sack!' repeated the thieves' crew. But they dared not approach. They stared at the beam. They stared at the church. The beam did not stir. The edifice preserved its calm and deserted air, but something chilled the outcasts. "'To work, locksmiths!' shouted Trifo. "'Let the door be forced!' No one took a step. "'Beard and belly!' said Clopan.

Starting point is 17:55:43 "'Here be men afraid of a beam!' An old locksmith addressed him. "'Captain, tis not the beam which bothers us. Tis the door, which is all covered with iron bars. Our pincers are powerless against it.' "'What more do you want to break it in?' demanded Clopan. "'Ah, we ought to have a battering ram.' The King of Tunei ran boldly to the formidable beam and placed his foot upon it.

Starting point is 17:56:12 "'Here is one!' he exclaimed. "'Tis the cannons who send it to you!' And making a mocking salute in the direction of the church. "'Thanks, cannons!' This piece of bravado produced its effects. The spell of the beam was broken. The vagabonds recovered their courage. Soon the heavy joist, raised like a feather by two hundred vigorous arms,

Starting point is 17:56:36 was flung with a fury against the great door which they had tried to batter down. At the sight of that long beam, in the half-light which the infrequent torches of the brigands spread over the plas, thus borne by that crowd of men who dashed it at a run against the church, one would have thought that he beheld a monstrous beast with a thousand feet, attacking with lowered head the giant of stone. At the shock of the beam, the half-metallic door sounded like an immense drum. It was not burst in, but the whole cathedral trembled, and the deepest cavities of the edifice were heard to echo. At the same moment a shower of large stones

Starting point is 17:57:19 began to fall from the top of the façade on the assailants. "'The devil!' cried Jeanne. "'Are the towers shaking their balustrades down on our heads?' But the impulse had been given. The King of Tune had set the example. Evidently, the bishop was defending himself, and they only battered the door with 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. Their thieves always fell two at a time, one on their legs and one on their heads. There were few which did not deal their blow, and a large layer of dead and wounded lay bleeding

Starting point is 17:58:02 and panting beneath the feet of the assailants, who, now grown furious, replaced each other without intermission. The long beam continued to belabor the door at regular intervals, like the clapper of a bell, the stones to rain down, the door to groan. The reader has no doubt divined that this unexpected resistance, which had exasperated the outcasts, came from Quasimoto. Chance had, unfortunately, favored the brave deaf man. When he had descended to the platform between the towers, his ideas were all in confusion. He had run up and down along the gallery for several minutes like a madman, surveying from above the compact mass of vagabonds ready to hurl itself on the church,

Starting point is 17:58:49 demanding the safety of the gypsy from the devil or from God. The thought had occurred to him of ascending to the southern belfry and sounding the alarm, but before he could have set the bell in motion, before Marie's voice, could have uttered a single clamor, was there not time to burst in the door of the church ten times over? It was precisely the moment when the locksmiths were advancing upon it with their tools. What was to be done? All at once he remembered that some masons had been at work all day repairing the wall, the timber work, and the roof of the southern tower. This was a flash of light. The wall was of stone, the roof of lead, the timber work

Starting point is 17:59:32 of wood. That prodigious timberwork so dense that it was called the forest. Quasimodo hastened to that tower. The lower chambers were, in fact, full of materials. There were piles of rough blocks of stone, sheets of lead and rolls, bundles of laths, heavy beams already notched with the saw, heaps of plaster. Time was pressing. The pikes and hammers were at work below. With a strength which the sense of danger increased tenfold, he seized one of the beams, the longest and heaviest. He pushed it out through a loophole, then, grasping it again outside of the tower, he made it slide along the angle of the balustrade which surrounds the platform, and let it fly into the abyss. The enormous timber, during that fall of 160 feet,

Starting point is 18:00:23 scraping the wall, breaking the carvings, turned many times on its center, like the arm of a windmill flying off alone through space. At last it reached the ground. The horrible cry arose, and the black beam, as it rebounded from the pavement, resembled a serpent leaping. Quasimodo beheld the outcast scatter at the fall of the beam, like ashes at the breath of a child. He took advantage of their fright, and while they were fixing a superstitious glance on the club which had fallen from heaven, and while they were putting out the eyes of the stone saints on the front with the discharge of arrows and buckshot, Quasimodo was silently piling up plaster, stones, and rough blocks of stone, even the sacks of tools belonging to the masons, on the edge of the balustrade from which the beam had already been hurled.

Starting point is 18:01:15 Thus, as soon as they began to batter the grand door, the shower of rough blocks of stone, began to fall, and it seemed to them that the church itself was being demolished over their heads. Anyone who could have beheld Quasimodo at that moment would have been frightened. Independently of the projectiles which he had piled upon the balustrade, he had collected a heap of stones on the platform itself. As fast as the blocks on the exterior wedge were exhausted, he drew on the heap. Then he stooped and rose, stooped and rose again with incredible activity. His huge gnome's head bent over the balustrade, then an enormous stone fell, then another,

Starting point is 18:01:58 then another. From time to time he followed a fine stone with his eye, and when it did good execution he said, "'Whom?' Meanwhile the beggars did not grow discouraged. The thick door in which they were venting their fury had already trembled more than twenty times beneath the weight of their oaken battering-ram, multiplied by the strength of a hundred men. The panels cracked, the carved work flew into splinters, the hinges at every blow leaped from their pins, the planks yawned, the wood crumbled to powder ground between the iron sheathing.

Starting point is 18:02:36 Fortunately for Quasimodo, there was more iron than wood. Nevertheless, he felt that the great door was yielding. Although he did not hear it, every blow of the ram reverberated simultaneously in the vaults of the church and within it. From above he beheld the vagabonds, filled with triumph and rage, shaking their fists at the gloomy façade, and both on the gypsy's account and his own he envied the wings of the owls which flittered away above his head in flocks. His shower of stone blocks was not sufficient to repel the assailants. At this moment of anguish he noticed a little lower down than the balustra, he noticed a little lower down than the balustrade whence he was crushing the thieves, two long stone gutters which discharged

Starting point is 18:03:25 immediately over the great door. The internal orifice of these gutters terminated on the pavement of the platform. An idea occurred to him. He ran in search of a faggot in his bell-ringer's den, placed on this faggot a great many bundles of laths and many rolls of lead, munitions which he had not employed so far, and having arranged this pile in front of the hole to the two gutters, He set it on fire with his lantern. During this time, since the stones no longer fell, the outcasts ceased to gaze into the air. The bandits, panting like a pack of hounds who are forcing a bore into his lair, pressed tumultuously round the great door, all disfigured by the battering-ram, but still standing.

Starting point is 18:04:10 They were waiting with a quiver for the great blow which should split it open. They vied with each other in pressing as close as possible, in order to dash among the first when it should open into that opulent cathedral, a vast reservoir where the wealth of three centuries have been piled up. They reminded each other with roars of exultation and greedy lust of the beautiful silver crosses, the fine copes of brocade, the beautiful tombs of silver gilt, the great magnificences of the choir,

Starting point is 18:04:42 the dazzling festivals, the Christmases sparkling with torches, the Easter sparkling with sunshine, all those splendid solemnities wherein chandeliers, siboriums, tabernacles, and reliquaries, study the altars with a crust of gold and diamonds. Certainly, at that fine moment, thieves and pseudo-sufferers, doctors in stealing, and vagabonds, were thinking much less of delivering the gypsy than of pillaging Notre Dame. We could even easily believe that for a goodly number among them, La Esmeralda was only a pretext, if thieves needed pretext. All at once, at the moment when they were grouping themselves round the ram for a last effort, each one holding his breath and stiffening his muscles

Starting point is 18:05:28 in order to communicate all his force to the decisive blow, a howl more frightful still than that which had burst forth and expired beneath the beam rose among them. Those who did not cry out, those who were still alive looked. Two streams of melted lead were falling from the summit of the edifice into the thickest of the rabble. That sea of men had just sunk down beneath the boiling metal, which had made, at the two points where it fell, two black and smoking holes in the crowd, such as hot water would make in snow. Dying men, half-consumed and groaning with anguish, could be seen writhing there. Around these two principal streams, there were drops of that horrible rain which scattered over the assailants and entered their skulls like gimlets of fire.

Starting point is 18:06:18 It was a heavy fire which overwhelmed these wretches with a thousand hailstones. The outcry was heart-rending. They fled pell-mell, hurling the beam upon the bodies, the boldest as well as the most timid, and the parvie was cleared a second time. All eyes were raised to the top of the church. They beheld there an extraordinary sight. On the crest of the highest gallery, higher than the central rose window, there was a great flame rising between the two towers with whirlwinds of sparks, a vast, disordered, and furious flame,

Starting point is 18:06:56 a tongue of which was borne into the smoke by the wind from time to time. Below that fire, below the gloomy balustrade with its tree foils showing darkly against its glare, two spouts with monster throats were vomiting forth unceasingly that burning rain, whose silvery stream stood out against the shadows of the lower façade. As they approached the earth, these two jets of liquid lead spread out in sheaves, like water springing from the thousand holes of a water-pot. Above the flame, the enormous towers, two sides of each of which were visible in sharp outline, the one holy black, the other holy red,

Starting point is 18:07:36 seemed still more vast with all the immensity of the shadow which they cast even to the sky. Their innumerable sculptures of demons and dragons assumed a lugubrious aspect. The restless light of the flame made them move to the eye. There were griffons which had the air of laughing, gargoyles which one fancied one heard yelping. Salamanders which puffed,

Starting point is 18:08:03 at the fire, tarasks which sneezed in the smoke, and among the monsters thus roused from their sleep of stone by this flame, by this noise, there was one who walked about, and who was seen from time to time to pass across the glowing face of the pile like a bat in front of a candle. Without doubt, this strange beacon light would awaken far away the wood-cutter of the hills of Bicetra, terrified to behold the gigantic shadow. of the towers of Notre Dame quivering over his heaths. A terrified silence ensued among the outcasts, during which nothing was heard, but the cries of alarm of the cannons shut up in their cloister, and more uneasy than horses in a burning stable, the furtive sound of windows

Starting point is 18:08:52 hastily opened and still more hastily closed. The internal hurly-burly of the houses and of the O'T-Tel-Dieu, the wind in the flame, the last death-rattle of the dying, and the continued crackling of the rain of lead upon the pavement. In the meanwhile, the principal vagabonds had retired beneath the porch of the Gondolarié mansion, and were holding a council of war. The Duke of Egypt, seated on a stone post, contemplated the phantasmagorical bonfire, glowing at a height of two hundred feet in the air, with religious terror. Clopin-Trifo bit his huge fists with rage.

Starting point is 18:09:33 Impossible to get in, he muttered between his teeth. An old enchanted church, grumbled the aged bohemian, Matthias Hungadi Spikali. By the Pope's whiskers, went on a sham soldier, who had once been in service. Here are church gutters spitting melted lead at you better than the machicalations of lectur. "'Did you see the demon passing and repassing in front of the fire?' exclaimed the Duke of Egypt. "'Pardieu! Tis that damned bell-ringer! Tis Quasimodo!' said Clopin. The Bohemian tossed his head. "'I tell you, that tis the spirit Sabnak, the Grand Marquis, the demon of fortifications.

Starting point is 18:10:21 He has the form of an armed soldier, the head of a lion. Sometimes he rides a hear hideous horse. He changes men into stones, of which he builds towers. He commands fifty legions. Tis he, indeed, I recognize him. Sometimes he is clad in a handsome golden robe, figured after the Turkish fashion. "'Where is Belvin de la Trois?' demanded Clopin. "'He is dead.' Andre the Red laughed in an idiotic way. "'Nautradame is making it. "'Intyme is making work for the hospital," said he. "'Is there, then, no way of forcing this door?' exclaimed the King of Tune, stamping his foot.

Starting point is 18:11:07 The Duke of Egypt pointed sadly to the two streams of boiling lead which did not cease to streak the black facade, like two long distaffs of phosphorus. "'The churches have been known to defend themselves thus all by themselves,' he remarked with a sigh. Saint Sophia at Constantinople forty years ago hurled to the earth three times in succession the crescent of Mejom by shaking her domes, which are her heads. Géum de Paris, who built this one, was a magician. Must we then retreat in pitiful fashion, like highwaymen?" said Clopin.

Starting point is 18:11:48 Must we leave our sister here, whom those hooded wolves will hang tomorrow?" And the sacristy, where there are wagon-loads of gold, added a vagabond, whose name we regret to say we do not know. Beard of Maham! cried Trifoe. Let us make another trial, resumed the vagabond. Matthias Hungadi shook his head. We shall never get in by the door. We must find the defect in the armor of the old fairy.

Starting point is 18:12:21 A hole, a false pastern, some... joint her other." "'Who will go with me?' said Clopin. "'I shall go at it again. By the way, where is the little scholar Jehan, who is so encased in iron?' "'He is dead, no doubt,' someone replied. We no longer hear his laugh.' The King of Tune frowned.

Starting point is 18:12:45 "'So much the worse. There was a brave heart under that ironmongery, and Master Pierre Gringwa?' "'Captain,' said Andri the Red, "'he slipped away before he reached the Pont-O-Changer.' Clopin stamped his foot. "'Gayour dee, twas he who pushed us on hither, and he has deserted us in the very middle of the job. Cowardly chatterer, with a slipper for a helmet!'

Starting point is 18:13:15 "'Captain,' said Andri the Red, who was gazing down Rue de Parve. "'Yonder is the little scholar.' "'Praised be Pluto,' said Clopin. "'But what the devil is he dragging after him?' "'It was in fact, Jehan, who was running as fast as his heavy outfit of a paladin, and a long ladder which trailed on the pavement, would permit, more breathless than an ant harnessed to a blade of grass twenty times longer than itself.

Starting point is 18:13:47 "'Victory! Te deum!' cried the scholar. Here is the ladder of the longshoreman of Port Saint-Landrie." Clopin approached him. "'Child, what do you mean to do, Carnid Du, with this ladder?' "'I have it,' replied Jehan panting. "'I knew where it was, under the shed of the lieutenant's house. There's a wench there whom I know, who thinks me as handsome as Cupido. I made use of her to get the ladder, and I have the ladder, Pasque de

Starting point is 18:14:19 Mahom! The poor girl came to open the door to me and her shift. Yes, said Clopin, but what are you going to do with that ladder? Shahan gazed at him with a malicious knowing look and cracked his fingers like castanets. At that moment he was sublime. On his head he wore one of those overloaded helmets of the 15th century, which frighten the enemy with their fanciful crests. He bristled with ten iron beaks, so that Jean-Honel could have disputed with Nestor's Homeric vessel the redoubtable title of Dexubolos. "'What do I mean to do with it, August King of Tunei?

Starting point is 18:15:01 Do you see that row of statues which have such idiotic expressions yonder above the three portals?' "'Yes, well. Tis the gallery of the kings of France.' "'What is that to me?' said Clopin. "'Wait, at the end of that gallery there is a door which is never fastened, otherwise than with a latch, and with this ladder I ascend, and I am in the church." Child, let me be the first to ascend. No, comrade, the ladder is mine.

Starting point is 18:15:33 Come, you shall be the second." May Beersibub strangle you," said Sirly Clopan. I won't be second to anybody. Then find a ladder, Clopan. set out on a run across the place, dragging his ladder and shouting, "'Follow me, lads!' In an instant the ladder was raised and propped against the balustrade of the lower gallery, above one of the lateral doors.

Starting point is 18:16:00 The throng of vagabonds, uttering loud acclamations, crowded to its foot to ascend. But Shahan maintained his right, and was the first to set foot on the rungs. The passage was tolerably long. The gallery of the kings of France is today about sixty feet above the pavement. The eleven steps of the flight before the door made it still higher. John mounted slowly, a good deal incommoded by his heavy armor, holding his crossbow in one hand and clinging to a rung with the other. When he reached the middle of the ladder, he cast a melancholy glance at the poor dead outcasts

Starting point is 18:16:35 with which the steps were strewn. "'Alas!' said he. "'Here is a heap of bodies worthy of the fifth book of the Iliad.' Then he continued his assent. The vagabonds followed him. There was one on every rung. At the sight of this line of querast backs, undulating as they rose through the gloom, one would have pronounced it a serpent with steel scales,

Starting point is 18:17:01 which was raising itself erect in front of the church. Jahan, who formed the head and whose whistling completed the illusion. The scholar finally reached the balcony of the gallery, and climbed over it nimbly, to the applause of the lest. whole vagabond tribe. Thus, master of the citadel, he uttered a shout of joy, and suddenly halted, petrified. He had just caught sight of Quasimodo concealed in the dark, with flashing eye behind one of the statues of the kings. Before a second assailant could gain a foothold on the gallery, the formidable hunchback leaped to the head of the ladder, without uttering a word,

Starting point is 18:17:40 seize the ends of the two uprights with his powerful hands, raised them, pushed them out from the wall, balanced the long and pliant ladder, loaded with vagabonds from top to bottom for a moment, in the midst of the shrieks of anguish, then suddenly, with superhuman force, hurled this cluster of men backward into the place. There was a moment when even the most resolute trembled. The ladder, launched backwards, remained erect and standing for an instant, and then seemed to hesitate, then wavered, then suddenly, describing a frightful arc. of a circle, eighty feet and radius, crashed upon the pavement with its load of ruffians,

Starting point is 18:18:21 more rapidly than a drawbridge when its chains break. There arose an immense imprecation, then all was still, and a few mutilated wretches were seen crawling over the heap of dead. A sound of wrath and grief followed the first cries of triumph among the besiegers. Quasimoto, impassive, with both elbows propped on the balustrade, looked on. He had the air of an old, bushy-headed king at his window. As for Jehan Frollo, he was in a critical position. He found himself in the gallery with the formidable bell-ringer, alone, separated from his companions by a vertical wall eighty feet high.

Starting point is 18:19:04 While Quasimodo was dealing with the ladder, the scholar had run to the postern which he believed to be open. It was not. The deaf man had closed it behind him when he entered. the gallery. Shahan had then concealed himself behind a stone king, not daring to breathe, and fixing upon the monstrous hunchback a frightened gaze, like the men, who, when courting the wife of the guardian of a menagerie, went one evening to a love rendezvous, mistook the wall which he was to climb, and suddenly found himself face to face with a white bear. For the first

Starting point is 18:19:39 few moments the deaf man paid no heed to him, but at last he turned his head, and he turned his head, suddenly straightened up. He had just caught sight of the scholar. Shahan prepared himself for a rough shock, but the deaf man remained motionless. Only he had turned towards the scholar and was looking at him. "'Oh, ho!' said Jehan. "'What do you mean by staring at me with that solitary and melancholy eye?' As he spoke thus, the young scamp stealthily adjusted his crossbow. "'Quasimodo!' he cried.

Starting point is 18:20:14 I am going to change your surname. You shall be called the blind man." The shot sped. The feathered Veriton whizzed and entered the hunchback's left arm. Quasimodo appeared no more moved by it than by a scratch to King Faramond. He laid his hand on the arrow, tore it from his arm, and tranquilly broke it across his big knee. Then he let the two pieces drop on the floor, rather than threw them down. But Jehan had to be it. had no opportunity to fire a second time. The arrow broken, Quasimodo breathing heavily, bounded like a grasshopper, and he fell upon the scholar, whose armor was flattened against the wall by the blow. Then in that gloom wherein wavered the light of the torches, a terrible

Starting point is 18:21:02 thing was seen. Quasimoto had grasped with his left hand the two arms of Jehan, who did not offer any resistance, so thoroughly did he feel that he was lost. With his right hand, the deaf man detached one by one, in silence, with sinister slowness, all the pieces of his armor, the sword, the daggers, the helmet, the cuirass, the leg pieces. One would have said that it was a monkey taking the shell from a nut. Quasimodo flung the scholar's iron shell at his feet, piece by piece. When the scholar beheld himself disarmed, stripped, weak, and naked in those terrible hands, He made no attempt to speak to the deaf man, but began to laugh audaciously in his face,

Starting point is 18:21:49 and to sing with his intrepid heedlessness of a child of sixteen, the then popular Diddy, "'Elespian Hebbler, la Ville de Cambre, Marfan la epile.' He did not finish. Quasimodo was seen on the parapet of the gallery, holding the scholar by the feet with one hand and hurling him over the abyss, like a sling, then a sound like that of a bony structure in contact where the wall was heard, and something was seen to fall which halted a third of the way down in its fall, on a projection in the architecture. It was a dead body which remained hanging there, bent double, its loins broken, its skull empty.

Starting point is 18:22:36 A cry of horror rose among the vagabonds. Vengeance! shouted Clopin. The sack, replied the multitude. Assault! Assault! There came a tremendous howl, in which there mingled all tongues, all dialects, all accents. The death of the poor scholar imparted a furious ardor to that crowd.

Starting point is 18:23:01 It was seized with shame and the wrath of having been held so long in check before a church by a hunchback. Rage found ladders, multiplied the torches, and at the expiration of a few minutes, Quasimodo, in despair, beheld that terrible ant-heap mount on all sides to the assault of Notre Dame. Those who had no ladders had knotted ropes. Those who had no ropes climbed by the projections of the carvings. They hung from each other's rags. There were no means of resisting that rising tide of frightful faces. Rage made these fierce countenances ruddy. Their clay brows were dripping with sweat. Their eyes darted lightning.

Starting point is 18:23:42 things. All these grimaces, all these horrors laid siege to Quasimoto. One would have said that some other church had dispatched to the assault of Notre Dame its gorgans, its dogs, its drays, its demons, its most fantastic sculptures. It was like a layer of living monsters on the stone monsters of the façade. Meanwhile, the place was studded with a thousand torches. This scene of confusion, now hid in darkness, was suddenly flooded with light. The parvee was resplendent, and cast a radiance on the sky. The bonfire lighted on the lofty platform was still burning, and illuminated the city far away. The enormous silhouette of the two towers projected afar on the roofs of Paris, and formed a large notch of black in this light. The city seemed to be aroused, alarm bells wailed

Starting point is 18:24:39 in the distance. The vagabonds howled, panted, swore, climbed, and Quasimodo, powerless against so many enemies, shuddering for the gypsy, beholding the furious faces approaching ever nearer and nearer to his gallery, entreated heaven for a miracle, and wrung his arms in despair. End of Book 10, Chapter 4. Part 1 of Book 10 Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 5. The retreat in which Monsieur Louis of France says his prayers. Part 1

Starting point is 18:25:32 The reader has not, perhaps, forgotten that one moment before catching the sight of the nocturnal band of vagabonds, Quasimodo, as he inspected Paris from the heights of his bell-tower, perceived only one light burning, which gleamed like a star from a window on the topmost story of a lofty edifice beside the Port San Antoine. This edifice was the Bastille. That star was the candle of Louis XI. King Louis XI.11th had, in fact, been two days in Paris. He was to take his departure on the next day,

Starting point is 18:26:09 but one for his citadel of Montier-Letour. He made but seldom and brief appearance in his good city of Paris, since there he did not feel about him enough pitfalls, gibbets, and Scotch archers. He had come that day to sleep at the Bastille. The great chamber, five-toise square, which he had at the Louvre, with its huge chimney-piece loaded with twelve great beasts and thirteen great prophets, and his grand bed, eleven feet by twelve, pleased him but little. He felt himself lost amid all this grandeur. This good bourgeois king preferred the Bastille with a tiny chamber and couch.

Starting point is 18:26:52 And then the Bastille was stronger than the Louvre. This little chamber, which the king reserved for himself in the famous state prison, was also tolerably spacious and occupied the topmost story of a turret rising from the dungeon keep. It was circular in form, carpeted with mats of shining straw, sealed with beams, enriched with fleur-de-lie of gilded metal with interjoist in color, Waynes coated with rich woods sewn with rosettes of white metal, and with others painted a fine bright green, made of orpamette and fine indigo. There was only one window, a long-pointed casement, latticed with brass wire and bars of iron,

Starting point is 18:27:36 further darkened by fine colored panes with the arms of the king and of the queen, each pain being worth two and twenty souls. There was but one entrance, a modern door, with a fiat arch, garnished with a piece of tapestry on the inside, and on the outside by one of those porches of Irish wood, frail edifices of cabinet work curiously wrought, numbers of which were still to be seen in old houses 150 years ago. Although they disfigure and embarrass the places, says Sauvel in despair, our old people are still unwilling to get rid of them, and keep them in spite of everybody.

Starting point is 18:28:18 In this chamber nothing was to be found of what furnishes ordinary apartments, neither benches nor trestles, nor forms, nor common stools in the form of a chest, nor fine stools sustained by pillars and counter-pillars, at four souls apiece. Only one easy arm-chair, very magnificent, was to be seen. The wood was painted with roses on a red ground. The seat was of a ruby, cardiffin leather, ornamented with long silken fringes, and studded with a thousand golden nails. The loneliness of this chair made it apparent

Starting point is 18:28:53 that only one person had a right to sit down in this apartment. Beside the chair, and quite close to the window, there was a table covered with a cloth with a pattern of birds. On this table stood an inkhorn spotted with ink, some parchments, several pens, and a large goblet of chaste silver. A little further on was a brazier, a praying stool in crimson velvet relieved with small bosses of gold.

Starting point is 18:29:21 Finally, at the extreme end of the room, a simple bed of scarlet and yellow damask, without either tinsel or lace, having only an ordinary fringe. This bed, famous for having borne the sleep, or the sleeplessness of Louis XI. 11th, was still to be seen two hundred years ago, at the house of a counsellor of state, where it was seen by old Madame Pillow, celebrated in Cirrus under the name Erecy Day, and of La Morale Vivante. Such was the chamber, which was called the retreat where Monsieur Louis de France says his prayers. At the moment when we have introduced the reader into it, this retreat was very dark.

Starting point is 18:30:05 The curfew bell had sounded an hour before. Night was come, and there was only one flickering wax candle set on the table to light to light five persons variously grouped in the chamber. The first on which the light fell was a seigneur, superbly clad in breeches and jerkin of scarlet striped with silver, and a loose coat with half-sleeves of cloth of gold with black figures. This splendid costume, on which the light played, seemed glazed with flame on every fold. The man who wore it had his armorial bearings embroidered on his breast in vivid colors, a chevron, accompanied by a deer, Passat.

Starting point is 18:30:45 The shield was flanked on the right by an olive branch, on the left by Adir's antlers. This man wore in his girdle a rich dagger, whose hilt of silver gilt was chased in the form of a helmet and surmounted by a Count's coronet. He had a forbidding air, a proud mean, and a head held high. At the first glance one red arrogance on his visage, at the second craft.

Starting point is 18:31:12 He was standing bareheaded, a long roll of parchment in his hand, behind the armchair in which was seated, his body ungracefully doubled up, his knees crossed, his elbow on the table, a very badly accoutred personage. Let the reader imagine, in fact, on the rich seat of Cardova leather, two crooked knees, two thin thighs, poorly clad in black worsted tricot, a body enveloped in a cloak of fustian, with fur trimming of which more leather than hair was visible. Lastly, to crown all, a greasy old hat of the worst sort of black cloth, bordered with a circular string of leaden figures.

Starting point is 18:31:55 This, in company with a dirty skull cap, which hardly allowed a hair to escape, was all that distinguished the seated personage. He held his head so bent upon his breast that nothing was to be seen of his face, thus thrown into shadow, except the tip of his nose, upon which fell a ray of light, and which must have been long. From the thinness of his wrinkled hand one divine that he was an old man. It was Louis XI. XI. At some distance behind them, two men dressed in garments of Flemish style were conversing, who were not sufficiently lost in the shadow, to prevent anyone who had

Starting point is 18:32:34 been present at the performance of Gringwa's mystery from recognizing in them two of the principal Flemish Envoy's, Gaiom Rheim, the sagacious pensioner of Ghent, and Jacques Caponol, the popular hosier. The reader will remember that these men were mixed up in the secret politics of Louis XI.11th. Finally, quite at the end of the room, near the door, in the dark,

Starting point is 18:32:59 stood motionless as a statue, a vigorous man with thick-set limbs, a military harness, with a surcoat of armorial bearings, whose square face pierced with staring eyes, slid with an immense mouth, his ears concealed by two large screens of flat hair, had something about it both of the dog and the tiger. All were uncovered except the king.

Starting point is 18:33:25 The gentleman who stood near the king was reading him a sort of long memorial to which his majesty seemed to be listening attentively. The two Fleming's were whispering together. Cross of God, grumbled Cappinol. I am tired of standing. Is there no chair here? Rhyme replied by a negative gesture, accompanied by a discreet smile.

Starting point is 18:33:49 Quaddo, resumed Cappinot, thoroughly unhappy at being obliged to lower his voice thus. I should like to sit down on the floor with my legs crossed like a hosier, as I do in my shop. Take good care that you do not, Master Jacques. O'ee, Master Gaeom, can one only remain here on his feet? Or, on his knees, said Rhyme. At that moment the king's voice was uplifted. They held their peace. Fifty souls for the robes of our valets,

Starting point is 18:34:23 and twelve livres for the mantles of the clerks of our crown? That's it. Pour out gold by the ton. Are you mad, Olivier? As he spoke thus, the old man raised his head. The golden shells of the collar of St. Michael could be seen gleaming on his neck. The candle fully illuminated his gaunt and morose profile. He tore the papers from the other's hand. "'You are ruining us!' he cried, casting his hollow eyes over the scroll. "'What is all this? What need have we of so prodigious a household? two chaplains at ten levers a month each, and a chapel clerk at one hundred souls, a valet de Chambre at ninety levers a year, four head cooks at six score levers a year each,

Starting point is 18:35:12 a spit cook, an herb cook, a sauce cook, a butler, two sumter horse lackeys, at ten levers a month each, two scullions at eight levers, a groom of the stables and his two aids at four and twenty levers a month, A porter, a pastry-cook, a baker, two carters, each sixty livres a year, and the ferrier, six score livres, and the master of the chamber of our funds, twelve hundred livres, and the comptroller, five hundred. And how do I know what else? Tis ruinous! The wages of our servants are putting France to the pillage. All the ingots of the louvre would melt before such a fire of expenses. We shall have to sell our plate.

Starting point is 18:35:57 And next year, if God and our lady, here he raised his hat, lend us life, we shall drink our potions from a pewter pot!' So saying he cast a glance at the silver goblet which gleamed upon the table. He coughed and continued, "'Master Olivier, the princes who reign over great lordships, like kings and emperors, should not allow sumptuousness in their houses, for the fire spreads thence through the province. Hence, Master Olivier, consider this said once for all. Our expenditure increases every year. The thing displeases us.

Starting point is 18:36:36 How pesqued due, when in 79, it did not exceed six-and-thirty thousand livres, did it attain in eighty, forty-three thousand six hundred and nineteen livres? I have the figures in my head. In 81, 66,680 livers. and this year, by the faith of my body, it will reach eighty thousand livres, doubled in four years, monstrous!' He paused breathless, then resumed energetically. "'I behold around me only people who fatten on my leanness. You suck crowns from me at every pore!' All remained silent. This was one of those fits of wrath which are allowed to take their course.

Starting point is 18:37:19 He continued, "'Tis like that request in Latin from the gentlemen of France "'that we should re-establish what they call "'the grand charges of the crown. "'Charges in very deed. "'Charges which crush. "'Ah, gentlemen, you say that we are not a king "'to reign dapefiro Nullo, but to Calario Nullo,

Starting point is 18:37:42 "'we will let you see, Pascadieu, whether we are not the king.' "'Here he smiled, in the consciousness of his power. This softened his bad humor, and he turned towards the Fleming's. "'Do you see, Gossip Gaeom, the Grand Warden of the Keys, the Grand Butler, the Grand Chamberlain, the Grand Senechal, are not worth the smallest valet? Remember this, Gossiped Capano. They serve no purpose, as they stand thus useless round the king. They produce upon me the effect of the four evangelists who surround the face of the big clock of the palace. and which Philippe Brilel has just set in order afresh.

Starting point is 18:38:25 They are guilt, but they do not indicate the hour, and the hands can get on without them. He remained in thought for a moment, then added, shaking his aged head. "'Oh, ho, by our lady, I am not Philippe Bril, and I shall not gild the great vassals anew. Continue, Olivier.' The person whom he designated by this name

Starting point is 18:38:49 took the papers into his hands again, and began to read aloud. To Adam Tenon, clerk of the ward of the seals of the provostship of Paris, for the silver making and engraving of said seals, which have been made new because the others proceeding, by reason of their antiquity and their worn condition, could no longer be successfully used, twelve livres periscis.

Starting point is 18:39:14 To Gaillon Frere, the sum of four livres, four souls periscis, for his trouble and salary, for having nourished and fed the doves in the two dovecots of the Hotel de Tournelle during the months of January, February, and March of this year, and for this he hath given seven sexteas of barley, to a grey friar for confessing a criminal, four souls perisee. The king listened in silence, from time to time he coughed, then he raised the goblet to his lips and drank a draught with a grimace. During this year there have been made by the Ordinance of Justice, to the sound of the trumpet,

Starting point is 18:39:53 through the squares of Paris 56 proclamations, a count to be regulated. For having searched and ransacked in certain places, in Paris as well as elsewhere, for money said to be there concealed, but nothing hath been found, forty-five livres perisee. "'Bury a crown to unearth a sou,' said the king. for having set in the Hotel de Tournel six panes of white glass in the place where the iron cage is thirteen souls for having made and delivered by command of the king on the day of the musters four shields with the escutions of said seigneur encircled with garlands of roses all about six livres for two new sleeves to the king's old doublet twenty souls for a box of grease to grease the boots of the king fifteen done a stable newly made to lodge the king's black pigs, thirty livres perisee. Many partitions, planks, and trap-doors, for the safekeeping of the lions at St. Paul,

Starting point is 18:40:59 twenty-two livres. "'These be dear beasts,' said Louis XI. "'It matters not. It is a fine magnificence in a king. There is a great red lion whom I love for his pleasant ways.' "'Have you seen him, Master Gaon?' Princes must have these terrific animals, for we kings must have lions for our dogs and tigers for our cats. The great befits a crown.

Starting point is 18:41:28 In the days of the pagans of Jupiter, when the people offered the temples a hundred oxen and a hundred sheep, the emperors gave a hundred lions and a hundred eagles. This was wild and very fine. The kings of France have always had roarings round their throne. Nevertheless, people must do me this justice, that I spend still less money on it than they did, and that I possess a greater modesty of lions, bears, elephants, and leopards. Go on, Master Olivier. We wish to say thus much to our Flemish friends. Guy Om Rhyme bowed low, while Copanol, with his surly mean, had the air of one of the bears

Starting point is 18:42:10 of which his majesty was speaking. The king paid no heed. He had just dipped his lips, into the goblet, and he spat out the beverage, saying, "'Fuh! What a disagreeable potion!' The man who was reading continued. For, feeding a rascally footpad, locked up these six months in the little cell of the flare, until it should be determined what to do with him, six livres, four souls. "'What's that?' interrupted the king. "'Feed what ought to be hanged? Pesquid do. I will give not a sue more for that

Starting point is 18:42:46 nourishment. Olivier, come to an understanding about the matter with Monsieur Destouvi, and prepare me this very evening the wedding of the gallant and the gallows. Resume. Olivier made a mark with his thumb against the article of the rascally foot-soldier, and passed on. To Henrié Cousin, master-execator of the high works of justice in Paris, the sum of sixty souls paris. To him assessed and ordained by Monseigneur,

Starting point is 18:43:16 the provost of Paris, for having bought, by order of the said seigneur of the provost, a great broadsword, serving to execute and decapitate persons who are by justice condemned for their demerits, and he hath caused the same to be garnished with a sheath, and with all things thereto appertaining, and hath likewise caused to be repointed, and set in order the old sword, which had become broken and notched in executing justice on Monsieur Louis de Luxembourg, as will more fully appear. The King interrupted. "'That suffices.

Starting point is 18:43:52 I allow the sum with great goodwill. Those are expenses which I do not begrudge. I have never regretted that money. Continue. For having made over a great cage—' "'Ah!' said the King, grasping the arms of his chair in both hands. "'I knew well that I came hither to this Bastille for some purpose.

Starting point is 18:44:13 "'Hold, Master Olivier, I desire to see that cage myself. You shall read me the cost while I am examining it. Monsieur's Fleming's, come and see this. Tis curious.' Then he rose, leaned on the arm of his interlocutor, made a sign to the sort of mute who stood before the door to precede him, to the two Fleming's to follow him, and quitted the room. The Royal Company was recruited at the door of the retreat by men of arms, all loaded down with iron, and by slender. linder pages bearing flambeau. It marched for some time through the interior of the gloomy dungeon, pierced with staircases and corridors even in the very thickness of the walls. The captain of the Bastille marched at their head and caused the wicket to be open before the bent and aged king, who coughed as he walked. At each wicket, all heads were obliged to stoop, except that of the old

Starting point is 18:45:07 man bent double with age. "'Hum,' said he, between his gums, for he had to had no longer any teeth. We are already quite prepared for the door of a sepulchre. For a low door, a bent passer. At length, after having passed a final wicket, so loaded with locks that a quarter of an hour was required to open it, they entered a vast and lofty vaulted hall, in the center of which they could distinguish, by light of the torches,

Starting point is 18:45:36 a huge cubic mass of masonry, iron, and wood. The interior was hollow. It was one of those famous cages of prisoners of state, which were called the little daughters of the king. In its walls there were two or three little windows, so closely trellised with stout iron bars, that the glass was not visible. The door was a large flat slab of stone, as on tombs. The sort of door, which serves for entrance only. Only here the occupant was alive. The king began to walk slowly round the little end. menace, examining it carefully, while Master Olivier, who followed him, read aloud the note. For having made a great cage of wood and solid beams, timbers and wall-plates,

Starting point is 18:46:25 measuring nine feet in length by eight in breadth, and of the height of seven feet between the partitions, smooth and clamped with great bolts of iron, which has been placed in a chamber situated in one of the towers of the Bastille-Saint-Antoine, in which cage is placed and detained, by command of the King Our Lord, a prisoner who formerly inhabited an old, decrepit, and ruined cage. There have been employed in making the said new cage, 96 horizontal beams, and 52 upright joists, ten wall-plates, three twice long. There have been occupied nineteen carpenters to hue, work, and fit all the said wood in the courtyard of the Bastille during twenty days.

Starting point is 18:47:08 "'Very fine heart of oak,' said the king, striking the woodwork with his fist. "'There have been used in this cage,' continued the other, "'two hundred and twenty great bolts of iron, of nine feet and of eight, "'the rest of medium length, with the rowels, caps, and counterbands "'appertaining to the said bolts, "'weighing the said iron in all three thousand seven hundred and thirty-five pounds. "'Beside eight great squares of iron, serving to attach the said cage in place with clamps and nails, weighing in all two hundred and eighteen pounds,

Starting point is 18:47:44 not reckoning the iron of the trellises for the windows of the chamber wherein the cage hath been placed, the bars of iron for the door of the cage and other things. "'Tis a great deal of iron,' said the king, to contain the light of a spirit. The whole amounts to three hundred and seventeen livres, five souls, seven d'Agné. "'Pesquit, dew!' exclaimed the king. At this oath, which was the favorite of Louis XIllivan, someone seemed to awaken in the interior of the cage. The sound of chains was heard, grating on the floor,

Starting point is 18:48:19 and a feeble voice which seemed to issue from the tomb was uplifted. "'Sire! Sire! Mercy!' The one who spoke thus could not be seen. "'Three hundred and seventeen livres, five souls, and six. Seven D'Neill, repeated Louis Xilventh. The lamentable voice which had proceeded from the cage had frozen all present, even Master Olivier himself. The king alone wore the air of not having heard.

Starting point is 18:48:49 At his order, Master Olivier resumed his reading, and his majesty coldly continued his inspection of the cage. In addition to this, there hath been paid to a mason who hath made the holes wherein to place the gratings of the windows, and the floor of the chamber where the cage is, because that floor could not support this cage by reason of its weight, twenty-seven livres, fourteen souls, perisee. The voice began to moan again. "'Mercise, sire, I swear to you that was Monsieur the Cardinal D' D'Age, and not I who was

Starting point is 18:49:26 guilty of treason.' "'The mason is bold,' said the king. "'Continue, Olivier,' continued. a joiner for window-frames, bedstead, hollow stool, and other things, twenty livres, two souls, parisi. The voice also continued, "'Alas, sire, will you not listen to me? I protest to you that twas not I who wrote the matter to Monseigneur de Gaillain,

Starting point is 18:49:56 but Monseigneur la Cardinal Belleu.' "'The joiner is dear,' quote the king. "'Is that all?' "'No, sire. to a glazier for the windows of the said chamber, 46 souls, 8 danier, parisie. Have mercy, sire. Is it not enough to have given all my goods to my judges?

Starting point is 18:50:21 My play to Monsieur de Tosi, my library to Mr. Pierre Dorio, my tapestry to the governor of the Rossion. I am innocent. I have been shivering in an iron cage for four teeth. years. Have mercy, sire. You will find your reward in heaven. Master Olivier, said the king, the total. 367 livres, eight souls, three d'agnet, parisie.

Starting point is 18:50:52 Notre Dame, cried the king. This is an outrageous cage. He tore the book from Master Olivier's hands and set to reckoning it himself upon his fingers, examining the paper and the cage alternately. Meanwhile, the prisoner could be heard sobbing. This was lugubrious in the darkness, and their faces turned pale as they looked at each other. Fourteen years, sire! Fourteen years now!

Starting point is 18:51:21 Since the month of April 1469! In the name of the Holy Mother of God, sire, listen to me! During all this time you have enjoyed the heat of the sun! Shall I, frail creature, never more behold the day? Mercy, sire, be pitiful. Clemency is a fine royal virtue, which turns aside the currents of wrath. Does your majesty believe that in the hour of death it will be a great cause of content for a king never to have left any offence unpunished?

Starting point is 18:51:58 Besides, sire, I did not betray your majesty. To us Monsieur d'Angé. and I have on my foot a very heavy chain, and a great ball of iron at the end, much heavier than it should be in reason. "'A, sire, have pity on me!' "'Olivier,' cried the king, throwing back his head. "'I observe that they charge me twenty souls a hog's head for plaster, "'while it is worth but twelve. You will refer back this account.'

Starting point is 18:52:29 He turned his back on the cage, and set out to leave the room. The miserable prisoner divined from the removal of the torches and the noise that the king was taking his departure, "'Sire! Sire! He cried in despair. The door closed again. He no longer saw anything, and heard only the hoarse voice of the turnkey, singing in his ears this ditty. "'Metre Jean Belou, a pair de la vu, d' d'est e'e y'Evaise y'e vaché, monsieur, monsieur, monsieur, de Verdon, ne'ne plus peon, two s'est de poche. Master Jean-Belieu has lost sight of his bishoprics. Monsieur Verdon has no longer won.

Starting point is 18:53:17 All have been killed off. The king reascended in silence to his retreat, and his suite followed him, terrified by the last groans of the condemned man. All at once, his majesty turned to the governor of the Bastille. By the way, said he, Was there not someone in that cage?" "'Pardieu, yes, sire,' replied the governor, astounded by the question.

Starting point is 18:53:41 "'And who was it?' Monsieur de Bishop of Verdun. The king knew this better than anyone else, but it was a mania of his. "'Ah!' said he, with the innocent air of thinking of it for the first time. "'Gayoum de Herancourt, the friend of Monsieur the Cardinal Balou, A good devil of a bishop! At the expiration of a few moments the door of the retreat had opened again, then closed upon the five personages whom the reader has seen at the beginning of this chapter,

Starting point is 18:54:15 and who resumed their places, their whispered conversations, and their attitudes. During the king's absence, several despatches had been placed on his table, and he broke the seals himself. Then he began to read them promptly, one after the other, made a scientist, to Master Olivier, who appeared to exercise the office of Minister, to take a pen, and without communicating to him the contents of the despatches, he began to dictate in a low voice the replies which the latter wrote on his knees, in an inconvenient attitude before the table. Gaiom Rime was on the watch. The king spoke so low that the Fleming's heard nothing of his

Starting point is 18:54:54 dictation, except some isolated and rather unintelligible scraps, such as, to maintain that fertile places by commerce, and the sterile by manufacturers, to show the English lords are four bombards, London, Brabant, Borgheim Brasset, Cento Merre. Artillery is the cause of war being made more judiciously now. To Monsieur de Brassier, our friend, armies cannot be maintained without tribute, etc. Once he raised his voice,

Starting point is 18:55:27 Pascadieu! Monsieur the king of Sicily seals his letters with yellow wax. like a king of France. Perhaps we are in the wrong to permit him so to do. My fair cousin of Burgundy granted no armorial bearings with a field of Goulet. The grandeur of houses is assured by the integrity of prerogatives. Note this, friend Olivier. Again, oh, oh, said he, what a long message! What doth our brother the emperor claim! and running his eye over the missive and breaking his reading with interjection. "'Surely, the Germans are so great and powerful that is hardly credible.

Starting point is 18:56:08 But let us not forget the old proverb. The finest county is Flanders, the finest duchy, Milan, the finest kingdom, France. Is it not so, Messieurs Fleming's? This time Coppano bowed in company with Guy Umray. The Hozier's patriotism was tickled. The last dispatch made Louis XI. X. Fruin. "'What is this?' he said. "'Complaints and fault-finding against our garrisons in Picardy.

Starting point is 18:56:38 "'Olegé, write with diligence to Monsieur de Marshal de Ruot. "'That discipline is relaxed, "'that the gendarmes of the unattached troops, "'the feudal nobles, the free archers, "'and the Swiss inflict infinite evils on the rustics. "'That the military, not cut, intent with what they find in the houses of the rustics, constrained them with violent blows of cudgel or of lash

Starting point is 18:57:03 to go and get wine, spices, and other unreasonable things in the town. That Monsieur the King knows this, that we undertake to guard our people against inconveniences, larcenies, and pillage, that such is our will by our lady, that in addition it suits us not that any fitter, barber, or any soldier varlet, should be clad like a prince in velvet, cloth of silk and rings of gold. That these vanities are hateful to God, that we, or a gentleman, content ourselves with a doublet of cloth at sixteen souls the Earl of Paris, that messieurs the camp-followers can

Starting point is 18:57:43 very well come down to that also. Command and ordain to Monsieur de Ruot, our friend, good. He dictated this letter aloud, in a firm tone, and in jerk. At the moment when he finished it, the door opened and gave passage to a new personage, who precipitated himself into the chamber, crying in a fright, "'Sire! Sire! There is a sedition of the populace in Paris!' Louis XIth's grave face contracted, but all that was visible of his emotion passed away like a flash of lightning. He controlled himself and said with tranquil severity, "'Gossib Jacques! You enter very abruptly!'

Starting point is 18:58:25 "'Sire! Sire! There is a revolt!' repeated gossip Jacques breathlessly. The king, who had risen, grasped him roughly by the arm and said in his ear, in such a manner as to be heard by him alone, with concentrated rage and a sidelong glance at the Flemings, "'Hold your tongue or speak low!' The newcomer understood, and began in a low tone, to give a very terrified account, to which the king listened calmly, while Gaio M rhyme called Capano's attention to the face and dress of the new arrival, to his furred cowl, Caputia ferrata, his short cape, epitagia curta, his robe of black velvet, which bespoke a president of the court of accounts. Hardly had his personage given the king some

Starting point is 18:59:16 explanations when Louis XI. 11th exclaimed, bursting into a laugh, "'In truth? "'Speak aloud, Gossip Quatier. "'What call is there for you to talk so low? "'Our lady knoweth that we conceal nothing "'from our good friends the Fleming's.' "'But, sire, speak loud!' "'Gossip Quattier was struck dumb with surprise.

Starting point is 18:59:39 "'So,' resumed the king, "'speak, sir, there is a commotion among the louts "'in our good city of Paris?' "'Yes, sire.' "'And which is moving, you say, against Moll. Monsieur the bailiff of the Palais de Justice. So it appears, said the gossip, who still stammered, utterly astounded by the abrupt and inexplicable change

Starting point is 19:00:01 which had just taken place in the King's thoughts. Louis XIteenth continued, Where did the watch meet the rabble? Marching from the Grand Turanduri towards the Pont-O-Changer, I met it myself as I was on my way hither to obey your Majesty's commands. I heard some of them shouting, Down with the bailiff of the palace! And what complaints have they against the bailiff?

Starting point is 19:00:28 Ah, said Gossip Jacques, because he is their lord. Really? Yes, sire, they are knaves from the Corps de Miracles. They have been complaining this long while of the bailiff, whose vassals they are. They do not wish to recognize him either as judge or as voyet. Yes, certainly. "'Ratorted the King with a smile of satisfaction, which he strove in vain to disguise.

Starting point is 19:00:56 "'In all their petitions to the Parliament they claim to have but two masters, "'Your Majesty and their God, who is the devil, I believe.' "'He he rubbed his hands. He laughed with that inward mirth which makes the countenance bean. He was unable to dissimulate his joy, although he endeavored at moments to compose himself. No one understood it in the least, not even Master Olivier. He remained silent for a moment, with a thoughtful but contented air. "'Are they in force?' he suddenly inquired. "'Yes, assuredly, sire,' replied Gossip Jacques. "'How many? Six thousand at the least.' The king could not refrain from saying, "'Good!' he went on. "'Are they armed?'

Starting point is 19:01:47 With scythe, picks, hackpots, pickaxes, all sorts of very violent weapons. The king did not appear in the least disturbed by this list. Jacques considered it his duty to add, If your majesty does not send prompt succor to the bailiff, he is lost. We will send, said the king with an air of false seriousness. It is well. Assuredly we will send. "'Masurer the bailiff is our friend.

Starting point is 19:02:18 "'Six thousand. "'They are desperate scamps. "'Their audacity is marvelous, "'and we are greatly enraged at it. "'But we have only a few people about us tonight. "'Tomorrow morning will be time enough.' "'Gossip Jacques exclaimed, "'instantly, sire,

Starting point is 19:02:36 "'there will be time to sack the bailiwick a score of times "'to violate the scenery, to hang the bailiff. "'For God's sake, sire, send before tomorrow morning?" The king looked him full in the face. "'I have told you, tomorrow morning!' It was one of those looks to which one does not reply. After a silence, Louis XIraised his voice once more. "'You should know that, gossip, Jacques. What was?' he corrected himself. "'What is the bailiff's feudal jurisdiction?'

Starting point is 19:03:11 "'Sire, the bailiff of the palace has the room. Calendres as far as the Rue de Eberie, the Place Saint-Michel, and the localities, vulgarly known as the Mourreau, situated near the Church of Notre Dame de Chab. Here Louis XIreauze the brim of his hat. Which hotels number 13, plus the Cours de Miracles, plus the Malladourie, called the Ben-Nieu, plus the whole highway which begins at the Malladourie and ends at the Port St. Jacques. Of these diverse places, he is voyeur demer. high, middle, and low,

Starting point is 19:03:47 Justiciary, full seigneur. Bless me, said the king, scratching his left ear with his right hand. That makes a goodly bit of my city. Ah, Monsieur de Belief was king of all that. This time he did not correct himself. He continued dreamily, as though speaking to himself. Very fine, monsieur the bailiff,

Starting point is 19:04:12 you had there between your teeth, a pretty slice of our Paris. All at once he broke out explosively. Pesquidieu! What people are those who claim to be voyeurs, justiciaries, lords and masters in our domains? Who have their toll-gates at the end of every field, their gallows and their hangmen at every cross-road among our people?

Starting point is 19:04:36 So that, as the Greek believed, that he had as many gods as there were fountains, and the Persian, as many as he beheld stars. The Frenchman counts as many kings as he sees gibbets. "'Pardot, tis an evil thing, and the confusion of it displeases me. I should greatly like to know whether it be the mercy of God that there should be in Paris any other Lord than the King, any other judge than our Parliament,

Starting point is 19:05:04 any other Emperor than ourselves in this Empire. By the faith of my soul, the day must certainly come when there shall exist in France but one king, one Lord, one lord, one judge, one headsman, as there is in paradise, but one God. He lifted his cap again, and continued, still dreamily, with the air and accent of a hunter who is cheering on his pack of hounds. Good, my people, bravely done. Break these false lords. Do your duty at them. Have at them, pillage them, take them, sack them. Oh, you want to be

Starting point is 19:05:44 be kings, messieurs. On, my people, on! Here he interrupted himself abruptly, bit his lips as though to take back his thought, which had already half escaped, bent his piercing eyes in turn on each of the five persons who surrounded him, and suddenly, grasping his hat with both hands and staring full at it, he said to it, "'Oh, I would burn you if you knew what there was in my head!' Then, casting about him once more,

Starting point is 19:06:14 more the cautious and uneasy glance of the fox re-entering his whole. No matter, we will succor, Monsieur, the bailiff. Unfortunately, we have but few troops here at the present moment, against so great a populace. We must wait until tomorrow. The order will be transmitted to the city, and everyone who has caught will be immediately hung. "'By the way, sire,' said Gossip Quatier,

Starting point is 19:06:40 I had forgotten that in the first agitation the watch have seized two laggards of the band. If your majesty desires to see these men, they're here. If I desire to see them, cried the king, What? Pesquedieu! You forget a thing like that. Quick, run you, Olivier. Go seek them. Master Olivier quitted the room and returned a moment later with the two prisoners, surrounded by archers of the guard. The first had a coarse, idiotic, drunken, and astonished face.

Starting point is 19:07:14 He was clothed in rags and walked with one knee bent and dragging his leg. The second had a pallid and smiling countenance, with which the reader is already acquainted. The king surveyed them for a moment without uttering a word, then, addressing the first one abruptly, What is your name? Geoffois-Pince-Baudet. Your trade. Outcast. "'What were you going to do in this damnable sedition?'

Starting point is 19:07:43 The outcast stared at the king and swung his arms with a stupid air. He had one of those awkwardly shaped heads, where intelligence is about as much at its ease as a light beneath an extinguisher. "'I know not,' said he. "'They went? I went.' "'Were you not going to outrageously attack and pillage your lord, the bailiff of the palace?' I know that they were going to take something from someone. That is all.

Starting point is 19:08:16 A soldier pointed out to the king, a bill-hook, which he had seized on the person of the vagabond. "'Do you recognize this weapon?' demanded the king. "'Yes, tis my bill-hook. I am a vine-dresser.' "'And do you recognize this man as your companion?' added Louis X-11, pointing to the other prisoner. "'No, I do not know him.' "'That will do,' said the king, making a sign with his finger to the silent personage who stood motionless beside the door, to whom we have already called the reader's attention.

Starting point is 19:08:52 "'Gossip Tristan, here is a man for you.' Tristan Lermitay bowed. He gave an order in a low voice to two archers who led away the poor vagabond. In the meantime the king had approached the second prisoner, who was perspiring in great drops. Your name? Sire, Pierre Gringua. Your trade? Philosopher, sire. How do you permit yourself, knave,

Starting point is 19:09:21 to go and besiege our friend, Monsieur the bailiff of the palace, and what have you to say concerning this popular agitation? Sire, I had nothing to do with it. Come now, you wanton wretch, Were not you apprehended by the watch in that bad company? No, sire, there is a mistake. Tis a fatality.

Starting point is 19:09:45 I make tragedies. Sire, I entreat your majesty to listen to me. I am a poet. Tis the melancholy way of men of my profession to roam the streets by night. I was passing there. It was mere chance. I was unjustly arrested. I am innocent of this civil tempest.

Starting point is 19:10:05 "'Your Majesty sees that the vagabond did not recognize me. "'I conjure your majesty. "'Hold your tongue,' said the king between two swallows of his tassan. "'You split our head.' Tristan Lamentay advanced and pointing to Gringwa. "'Sire, can this one be hanged also?' "'This was the first word that he had uttered. "'Phew!' replied the king.

Starting point is 19:10:32 "'I see no objection.' "'I see. see a great many, said Gringua. At that moment our philosopher was greener than an olive. He perceived from the king's cold and indifferent mean that there was no other resource than something very pathetic, and he flung himself at the feet of Louis Xilventh, exclaiming with gestures of despair, "'Sire, will your majesty deign to hear me? Sire, break not in thunder over so small a thing as myself. God's great lightning doth not bombard a lettuce. Sire, you are an august and very poignant monarch. Have pity on a poor man who is honest,

Starting point is 19:11:15 and who would find it more difficult to stir up a revolt than a cake of ice would to give out a spark. Very gracious, sire, kindness is the virtue of a lion and a king. Alas, rigor only frightens minds. The impetuous gusts of the north wind do not make the traveler lay aside his cloak. The sun, bestowing his rays little by little, warms him in such ways that it will make him strip to his shirt. Sire, you are the sun. I protest to you, my sovereign lord and master, that I am not an outcast, thief and disorderly fellow. Revolt and brigandage belong not to the outfit of Apollo. I am not the man to fling myself into those clouds which break out into seditious clamor. I am your majesty's faithful vassal. That same jealousy which a husband cherisheth

Starting point is 19:12:12 for the honor of his wife, the resentment which the son hath for the love of his father, a good vassal should feel for the glory of his king. He should pine away for the zeal of this house, for the aggrandizement of his service. Every other passion which should transport him would be but madness. These, sire, are my maxims of state. Then do not judge me to be a seditious and thieving rascal, because my garment is worn at the elbows. If you will grant me mercy, sire, I will wear it out on the knees in praying to God

Starting point is 19:12:48 for you night and morning. Alas, I am not extremely rich, tis true. even rather poor, but not vicious on that account. It is not my fault. Everyone knoweth that great wealth is not to be drawn from literature, and that those who are best posted in good books do not always have a great fire in winter. The advocate's trade taketh all the grain, and leaveth only straw to the other scientific professions. There are forty very excellent Proverbs, unnot the whole-ridden cloak of the philosopher. O sire, clemency is the only light which can enlighten the interior of so great a soul.

Starting point is 19:13:32 Clemency beareth the torch before all the other virtues. Without it, they are but blind men groping after God in the dark. Compassion, which is the same thing as clemency, causeth the love of subjects, which is the most powerful bodyguard to a prince. What matters it to Your Majesty, who dazzles all faces if there is one poor man more on earth, a poor, innocent philosopher, spluttering amid the shadows of calamity, with an empty pocket which resounds against his hollow belly. Moreover, sire, I am a man of letters. Great kings make a pearl for their crowns by protecting letters. Hercules did not disdain the title of Musigides. Matias Corvin favor Jean de Monroyal, the ornament of mathematics.

Starting point is 19:14:24 Now tis an ill way to protect letters, to hang a man of letters. What a stain on Alexander if he had hung Aristotelies! This act would not be a little patch on the face of his reputation to embellish it, but a very malignant ulcer to disfigure it. Sire, I made a very proper epithelamium for Mademoiselle of Flanders, and Monseigneur the very Auguste Dauphin. That is not a firebrand of rebellion. Your Majesty sees that I am not a scribbler of no reputation,

Starting point is 19:14:59 that I have studied excellently well, and that I possess much natural eloquence. Have mercy upon me, sire. In so doing you will perform a gallant deed to our lady, and I swear to you that I am greatly terrified at the idea of being hanged. So saying, the unhappy Gringua kissed the king's slippers, and Gaium Rhyme said to Cap'anol in a low tone. He doth well to drag himself on the earth. Kings are like the Jupiter of Crete.

Starting point is 19:15:31 They have ears only in their feet. And without troubling himself about the Jupiter of Crete, the hosier replied with a heavy smile, and his eyes fixed on Gringua. Oh, that's it exactly. I seem to hear Chancellor Yugonet craving mercy of me. When Gringwa paused at last, quite out of breath, he raised his head tremblingly towards the king, who was engaged in scratching a spot on the knee of his breeches with his fingernail.

Starting point is 19:16:02 Then his majesty began to drink from the goblet of Tissan. But he uttered not a word, and this silence tortured Gringua. At last the king looked at him. "'Here is a terrible baller,' said he, then turning to Tristan Dermotei. "'Bali, let him go.' Gringwa fell backwards, quite thunderstruck with joy. "'At liberty,' growled Tristan. "'Doth not your majesty wish to have him detained a little while in a cage?'

Starting point is 19:16:35 "'Gossip,' retorted Louis Xilventh. "'Think you that tis for birds of this feather that we have caused to be made cages at three hundred and sixty-seven livres, eight sous, three deniers apiece. Release him at once. The wanton, Louis XI. was fond of this word which formed, with Pasquadou, the foundation of his joviality, and put him out with a buffet. "'Ugh!' cried Gringua. "'What a great king is here!' And for fear of a counter-order, he rushed towards the door, which Tristan opened for him with a very bad grace. The soldiers left the room with him, pushing him before them with stout

Starting point is 19:17:17 dwecks, which Gringua bore like a true, stoical philosopher. The king's good humor, since the revolt against the bailiff had been announced to him, made itself apparent in every way. This unwanted clemency was no small sign of it. Tristan Lermitay in his corner wore the surly look of a dog who has had a bone snatched away from him. The end of part-rethead. 1 of Book 10, Chapter 5. Part 2 of Book 10, Chapter 5 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 5. The retreat in which Monsieur Louis of France says his prayers. Part 2. Meanwhile, the king thrummed gaily with his fingers on the arm of his chair,

Starting point is 19:18:21 the march of Pont-Aldomere. He was a dissembling prince, but one who understood far better how to hide his troubles than his joys. These external manifestations of joy at any good news sometimes proceeded to very great lengths, thus on the death of Charles the Bold, to the point of vowing silver balustrades to Saint-Martin of Tours, on his advent to the throne, so far as forgetting to order his father's obsequies.

Starting point is 19:18:51 "'A. Sire!' suddenly exclaimed Jacques Quatier, What has become of the acute attack of illness for which Your Majesty had me summoned? Oh, said the King, I really suffer greatly, my gossip. There is a hissing in my ear, and fiery rakes racked my chest. Quatier took the king's hand and begun to feel of his pulse with a knowing air. Look, Copanol, said Rime in a low voice. Behold him between Quatier and Tristan. They are his.

Starting point is 19:19:25 his whole court. A physician for himself, a headsman for others. As he felt the king's pulse, Quatier assumed an air of greater and greater alarm. Louis XI. 11th watched him with some anxiety. Quatier grew visibly more gloomy. The brave man had no other farm than the king's bad health. He speculated on it to the best of his ability. Oh, oh, he murmured at length, This is serious indeed. Is it not? said the king uneasily. Palsus crebeer, and helens,

Starting point is 19:20:05 crepitans, irregularis, continue the leech. Pascadieu! This may carry off its man in less than three days. Oh, lady! exclaimed the king. And the remedy gossip? I am meditating upon that sire. He made Louis XIV.

Starting point is 19:20:25 put out his tongue, shook his head, made a grimace, and in the very midst of these affectations. "'Pardieu, sire,' he suddenly said, "'I must tell you that there is a receivership of the royal prerogatives vacant, and that I have a nephew.' "'I give the receivership to your nephew, gossip, Jacques,' replied the king, "'but draw this fire from my breast.' "'Since your majesty is so clement,' replied the leech, "'You will not refuse to aid me a little in building my house, "'Rue Saint-André d'Arque?'

Starting point is 19:21:00 "'Hugh,' said the king. "'I am at the end of my finances,' pursued the doctor, "'and it would really be a pity that the house should not have a roof, "'not on account of the house, which is simple and thoroughly bourgeois, "'but because of the paintings of Jehan-Fourbeau, "'which adorn its wainscoting. "'There is a Diana flying in the air, but so excellent, so tender, so delicate, of so ingenious an action, her hair so well-coffed

Starting point is 19:21:31 and adorned with a crescent, her flesh so white, that she leads into temptation those who regard her too curiously. There is also a series. She is another very fair divinity. She is seated on sheaves of wheat, and crowned with a gallant garland of wheat-ears, interlaced with salsophy and other flowers. Never were seen more amorous eyes, more rounded limbs, a nobler air, or a more gracefully flowing skirt.

Starting point is 19:22:01 She is one of the most innocent and most perfect beauties whom the brush has ever produced. Executioner, grumbled Louis X11th. What are you driving at? I must have a roof for these paintings, sire, and although tis but a small matter, I have no more money. How much doth your roof cost? Why, a roof of copper, embellished and gilt, two thousand livres at the most. Ah, assassin, cried the king.

Starting point is 19:22:32 He never draws out one of my teeth, which is not a diamond. Am I to have my roof? said Quatier. Yes, and go to the devil, but cure me. Jacques Quatier bowed low and said, Sire, it is a little. a repellent which will save you. We will apply to your loins the Great Defensive, composed of cirrate, Armenian bowl, white of egg, oil, and vinegar. You will continue your tisan, and we will answer for your majesty. A burning candle does not attract one nat alone. Master Olivier,

Starting point is 19:23:11 perceiving the king to be in a liberal mood, and judging the moment to be propitious, approached in his turn. "'Sire, what is it now?' said Louis Xil 11th. "'Sire, your majesty knoweth that Simone Redan is dead. "'Well?' He was counsellor to the king in the matter of the courts of the treasury. "'Well?' "'Sire, his place is vacant.'

Starting point is 19:23:38 As he spoke thus, Master Olivier's haughty face quitted its arrogant expression for a lowly one. It is the only change which ever takes place in a courtier's visage. The king looked him well in the face and said in a dry tone, I understand. He resumed. Master Olivier, the Marshal de Boisico was wont to say, There's no master save the king. There are no fishes save in the sea.

Starting point is 19:24:08 I see that you agree with Monsieur de Boisico. Now listen to this. We have a good memory. In 68, we made you valet of our chamber. In 69, guardian of the fortress of the bridge of Sand Cloud, at a hundred livres of tournay in wages. You wanted them of Paris. In November 73, by letters given to Gagiole, we instituted you Keeper of the Wood of Vincent's,

Starting point is 19:24:35 in place of Gierbert Aclet, Equiry. In 75, Grouier of the forest of Rouvre Les Saint-Claude, in the place of the of Jacques Lamere. In 78, we graciously settled on you, by letters patent sealed doubly with green wax, an income of ten livres perisee, for you and your wife on the place of the marchants, situated at the school of Saint-Germain. In 79, we made your groie of the forest of Cennard, in place of that poor Jahandais. Then, captain of the Chateau of Loche, then Governor of St. Quentin,

Starting point is 19:25:14 then Captain of the Bridge of Moulin, of which you cause yourself to be called Compt. Out of the five saws fine paid by every barber who shaves on Festival Day, there are three saws for you, and we have the rest. We have been good enough to change your name of Le Mouve, which resembled your face, closely. In 76, we granted you, to the great displeasure of our nobility, our memorial bearings

Starting point is 19:25:43 of a thousand colors, which give you the breast of a peacock. Pesquedieu, are you not surfeited? Is not the draft of fishes sufficiently fine and miraculous? Are you not afraid that one salmon more will make your boat sink? Pride will be your ruin, gossip. Ruin and disgrace always press hard on the heels of pride. Consider this, and hold your tongue." These words, uttered with severity, made Master Olivier's face revert to its insolence. "'Good,' he muttered, almost aloud. "'Tis easy to see that the king is ill today. He giveth all to the leech.' Louis XI. 11th, far from being irritated by this petulant insult, resumed with some gentleness, "'Stay, I don't. I don't.

Starting point is 19:26:34 was forgetting that I made you my ambassador to Madame Marie at Ghent. Yes, gentlemen, added the king, turning to the Fleming's. This man hath been an ambassador. There, my gossip, he pursued, addressing Master Olivier. Let us not get angry. We are old friends. Tis very late. We have terminated our labors. Shave me. Our readers have not, without doubt, waited until the present moment to recognize in Master Olivier, that terrible Figaro, whom Providence, the great maker of dramas, mingled so artistically

Starting point is 19:27:11 in the long and bloody comedy of the reign of Louis XI. 11th. We will not here undertake to develop that singular figure. This Barber of the King had three names. At court he was politely called Olivier la Dame, the deer. Among the people, Olivier the devil. His real name was Olivier Le Mouve. accordingly Olivier Le Mouveix remained motionless, sulking at the king and glancing askance at Jacques Quatier. "'Yes, yes, the physician,' he said between his teeth. "'Ah, yes, the physician,' retorted Louis Xilventh with singular good humor.

Starting point is 19:27:54 "'The physician has more credit than you. It is very simple. He has taken hold upon us by the whole body. You hold us only by the chin. Come, my poor barber, all will come right. What would you say, and what would become of your office, if I were a king like Shilparek, whose gesture consisted in holding his beard in one hand? Come, gossip, mine, fulfill your office, shave me.

Starting point is 19:28:23 Go get what you need, therefore. Olivier perceiving that the king had made up his mind to laugh, and that there was no way of even annoying him, went off grumbling to execute his orders. The king rose approached the window, and suddenly opening it with extraordinary agitation. "'Oh, yes!' he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "'Yonder is a redness in the sky over the city. "'Tis the bailiff burning. It can be nothing else but that.

Starting point is 19:28:53 Ah, my good people! Here you are aiding me at last in tearing down the rights of lordship.' Then, turning towards the Fleming's, "'Come, look at this gentleman. Is it not a fire which gloweth yonder?' The two men of Ghent drew near. "'A great fire,' said Gaiom Rime. "'Oh!' exclaimed Copanol, whose eyes suddenly flashed. "'That reminds me of the burning of the house of the Signor de Imbarcourt.

Starting point is 19:29:24 There must be a goodly revolt, yonder.' "'You think so, Master Copanol?' And Louis X-11th glance was almost as joyous as that of the hosier. "'Will it not be difficult to resist?' "'Cross of God! Sire, your majesty will damage many companies of men of war thereon.' "'Ha! I—' "'Tis different,' returned the king. "'If I willed!' The hosier replied heartily,

Starting point is 19:29:54 "'If this revolt be what I suppose, sire, you might will in vain.' "'Gossip,' said Louis X11th, "'with the two companies of my unachatched troops "'and one discharge of a serpentine, "'short work is made of a populace of louts.' "'The hosier, in spite of the science made to him by Gaiom Rheim, "'appeared determined to hold his own against the king. "'Sire, the Swiss, were also louts.

Starting point is 19:30:22 "'Monsieur the Duke of Burgundy was a great gentleman, "'and he turned up his nose at that rabble route. "'At the Battle of Granson, he cried, men of the cannon, fire on the villains, and he swore by St. George. But, Advoyier-Sarnactal hurled himself on the handsome duke with his battle club and his people, and when the glittering Burgundian army came in contact with these peasants in bull-hides, it flew in pieces like a pane of glass at the blow of a pebble. My lords were then slain by low-born knaves, and Monsieur de Chateau Gaon, the greatest signor in Burgundy,

Starting point is 19:30:59 was found dead with his gray horse in a little marsh meadow. "'Friend,' returned the king, "'you are speaking of a battle. The question here is of a mutiny, and I will gain the upper hand of it as soon as it shall please me to frown.' The other replied indifferently, "'That may be, sire, in that case,

Starting point is 19:31:24 "'tis because the people's hour hath not yet come.' Gaiom Rime considered it incumbent on him to intervene. Master Cap'nol, you are speaking to a puissant king. I know it, replied the hosier gravely. Let him speak, Monsieur Rime, my friend, said the king. I love his frankness of speech. My father, Charles V. was accustomed to say that the truth was ailing.

Starting point is 19:31:55 I thought her dead. and that she had found no confessor. Master Caponol undeceiveth me. Then, laying his hand familiarly on Coppano's shoulder, You were saying, Master Jacques? I say, sire, that you may possibly be in the right, that the hour of the people may not yet have come with you. Louis XI. X.D.11th gazed at him with his penetrating eye.

Starting point is 19:32:22 And when will that hour come, Master? "'You will hear it strike. "'On what clock, if you please?' Capanol, with his tranquil and rustic countenance, made the king approach the window. "'Listen, sire, there is here a dungeon-keep, "'a belfry, cannons, bourgeois, soldiers. "'When the belfry shall hum, when the cannon shall roar,

Starting point is 19:32:48 "'when the dungeon shall fall in ruins amid great noise, "'when bourgeois and soldiers shall howlough, and slay each other, the hour will strike." Louis's face grew somber and dreamy. He remained silent for a moment, then he gently patted with his hand the thick wall of the dungeon, as one strokes the haunches of a steed. "'Oh, no,' said he, "'you will not crumble so easily, will you, my good Bastille.' And, turning with an abrupt gesture towards the sturdy Fleming,

Starting point is 19:33:23 "'Have you never seen a revolt, Master Jacques?' "'I have made them,' said the hosier. "'How do you set to work to make a revolt?' said the king. "'Ah,' replied Caponol, "'tis not very difficult. "'There are a hundred ways. In the first place there must be discontent in the city. "'The thing is not uncommon. And then the character of the inhabitants. "'Those of Ghent are easy to stir. into revolt. They always love the prince's son. The prince, never. Well, one morning, I will suppose,

Starting point is 19:34:02 someone enters my shop and says to me, Father Cappanol, there is this, and there is that. The demoiselle of Flanders wishes to save her ministers. The grand bailiff is doubling the impost on chagrin, or something else, what you will. I leave my work as it stands. I come out of my hosier stall, and I shout, To the sack? There is always some smashed cask at hand. I mount it, and I say aloud, in the first words that occurred to me, what I have on my heart. And when one is of the people, sire, one always has something on the heart.

Starting point is 19:34:38 Then people troop up, they shout, they ring the alarm bell, they arm the louts with what they take from the soldiers. The market people join in, and they set out. And it will always be thus, so long. as there are lords in the seigneuries, bourgeois in the bourgs, and peasants in the country. "'And against whom did you thus rebel?' inquired the king. "'Against your bailiffs? Against your lords? Sometimes. That depends. Against the Duke also sometimes.' Louis X. Eleventh returned and seated himself, saying with a smile, "'Ah, here they have only got as far as the bailiffs.' At that instant,

Starting point is 19:35:21 Olivier Le Dame returned. He was followed by two pages, who bore the King's toilet articles. But what struck Louis XI. X. was that he was also accompanied by the provost of Paris and the Chevalier of the Watch, who appeared to be in consternation. The spiteful barber also wore an air of consternation, which was one of contentment beneath, however. It was he who spoke first. Sire, I ask your Majesty's pardon for the calamitous news which I bring. The king turned quickly, and grazed the mat on the floor with the feet of his chair. "'What does this mean?'

Starting point is 19:36:00 "'Sire,' resumed Olivier Le Dam, with the malicious air of a man who rejoices that he is about to deal a violent blow. "'Tis not against the bailiff of the courts that this popular sedition is directed. Against whom, then?' "'Against you, sire.' The aged king rose erected. and straight as a young man. Explain yourself, Olivier, and guard your head well, gossip,

Starting point is 19:36:28 for I swear to you by the cross of Saint-Lowe that if you lie to us at this hour, the sword which severed the head of Monsieur de Luxembourg is not so notched that it cannot yet sever yours.' The oath was formidable. Louis XI. 11th had only sworn twice in the course of his life by the cross of St. Lowe. Olivier opened his mouth to reply.

Starting point is 19:36:53 "'Sire, on your knees!' interrupted the king violently. "'Tristin, have an eye to this man!' Olivier knelt down and said coldly. Sire, a sorceress was condemned to death by your court of Parliament. She took refuge in Notre Dame. The people are trying to take her from thence by main force. Monseil the Provost and Monsieur de Chavévesantévales. Valié of the Watch, who have just come from the riot, are here to give me the lie, if this

Starting point is 19:37:24 is not the truth. The populace is besieging Notre Dame. "'Yes, indeed,' said the king in a low voice, all pale and trembling with wrath. "'Nautradame! They lay siege to our lady, my good mistress in her cathedral. Rise, Olivier, you are right. I give you Simone Radin's charge. You are right. Tis I, whom they are attacking. The witch is under the protection of this church. The church is under my protection. And I thought that they were acting against the bailiff. Tis against myself! Then, rendered young by fury, he began to walk up and down with long strides. He no longer laughed. He was terrible. He went and came. The fox was changed into a hyena. He seemed suffocated to such a degree that he could

Starting point is 19:38:17 not speak. His lips moved, and his fleshless fists were clenched. All at once he raised his head, his hollow eye appeared full of light, and his voice burst forth like a clarion. "'Down with them, Tristan! A heavy hand for these rascals! Go, Tristan, my friend! Slay! Slay!' This eruption, having passed, he returned to his seat, and said, with a cold and concentrated at wrath. Here, Tristan, there are here with us in the Bastille the fifty lances of the Vicomte-Gief, which makes three hundred horse. You will take them. There is also the company of our unattached archers of Monsieur de Chateaupe. You will take it. You are provost of the marshals. You have the men of your provost ship. You will take them. At the Hotel

Starting point is 19:39:09 St. Paul, you will find forty arches of Monsieur de Dauphan's new guard. You will take it. You will take them, and with all these you will hasten to Notre Dame. Ah, messieurs, louts of Paris, do you fling yourselves thus against the crown of France, the sanctity of Notre Dame, and the peace of this commonwealth? Exterminate, Tristan, exterminate, and let not a single one escape, except it be for Montfascone. Tristan bowed. Tis well, sire. He added, after a silence, "'And what shall I do with the sorceress?' "'This question caused the king to meditate.' "'Ah,' said he,

Starting point is 19:39:53 "'the sorceress, Monsieur d'estouvi, "'what did the people wish to do with her?' "'Sire,' replied the provost of Paris, "'I imagine that, since the populace has come to tear her "'from asylum in Notre Dame, "'tis because that impunity wounds them, "'and they desire to hang her. The king appeared to reflect deeply, then addressing Tristan Lermitei,

Starting point is 19:40:20 "'Well, gossip, exterminate the people, and hang the sorceress.' "'That's it,' said Rhyme in a low tone to Copanol. "'Punish the people for willing a thing, and then do what they wish.' "'Enough, sire,' replied Tristan. "'If the sorceress is still in Notre Dame, must she be seized in spite of the sanctuary?' "'Pas-a-do, the sanctuary,' said the king, scratching his ear. "'But the woman must be hung nevertheless.' Here, as though seized with a sudden idea, he flung himself on his knees before his chair,

Starting point is 19:41:01 took off his hat, placed it on the seat, and gazing devoutly at one of the leaden amulets which loaded it down. "'Oh!' said he, with clasped hands, "'How, Lady of Paris, my gracious Patroness, pardon me. "'I will only do it this once. "'This criminal must be punished. "'I assure you, Madame the Virgin, my good mistress, "'that she is a sorceress who is not worthy of your amiable protection.

Starting point is 19:41:30 "'You know, madame, that many very pious princes "'have overstepped the privileges of the churches "'for the glory of God and the necessities of the state. Saint-Huguay, Bishop of England, permitted King Edward to hang a witch in his church. Saint-Louis of France, my master, transgressed with the same object, the Church of Monsieur Saint-Paul, and Monsieur d'Alphonse, son of the King of Jerusalem, the very Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Pardon me, then, for this once.

Starting point is 19:42:04 Our Lady of Paris, I will never do so again, and I will give you a fine statue of silver, like the one which I gave last year to our lady of Aquee. So be it. He made the sign of the cross, rose, donned his hat once more, and said to Tristan, "'Be diligent, gossip. Take Monsieur Chautoupe with you. You will cause the toxin to be sounded. You will crush the populace. You will seize the witch.'

Starting point is 19:42:34 "'Tis said, and I mean the business of the execution to be done by you. You will render me an account of it. Come, Olivier, I shall not go to bed this night. Shave me. Tristan Lamartheet bowed and departed. Then the king, dismissing rhyme and Copanol with a gesture, "'God guard you, messieurs, my good friends the Fleming's. Go, take a little repose.

Starting point is 19:43:02 The night advances, and we are nearer the morning than the evening.' Both retired and gained their apartments under the guidance. of the captain of the Bastille. Copanol said to Gaiom Rime. Hum, I have had enough of that coughing king. I have seen Sharrows of Burgundy drunk, and he was less malignant than Louis XIth when ailing. Master Jacques, replied Rime,

Starting point is 19:43:30 Tis because wine renders kings less cruel than does barleywater. The end of Part 2 of Book 10 Chapter 5. Book 10, Chapter 6 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 6. Little Sword in Pocket On emerging from the Bastille, Gringua descended the Rue Saint-Antoine with the swiftness of a runaway horse.

Starting point is 19:44:08 At arriving at the Baudoyet Gate, he walked straight to the stone cross, which rose in the middle of that place, as though he were able to be able to be able to able to distinguish in the darkness the figure of a man clad and cloaked in black, who was seated on the steps of the cross. "'Is it you, master?' said Gringua. The personage in black rose. "'Death and passion! You make me boil, Gringua! The man on the Tower of Saint-Gervais has just cried half-past one in the morning!'

Starting point is 19:44:36 "'Oh,' retorted Gringua, "'tis no fault of mine, but of the watch and the king, I have just had a narrow escape. I always just miss being hung. Tis my predestination. You lack everything, said the other. But come quickly. Have you the password? Fancy, master, I have seen the king.

Starting point is 19:44:59 I come from him. He wears fustian breeches. Tis an adventure. Oh, dis-staff of words, what is your adventure to me? Have you the password of the outcasts? I have it. Be at ease. Little sword in pocket. Good. Otherwise, we could not make our way as far as the church. The outcasts bar the streets. Fortunately, it appears that they have encountered resistance. We may still arrive in time. Yes, master. But how are we to get into Notre Dame? I have a key to the tower. And how are we to get out again?

Starting point is 19:45:40 Behind the cloister there is a little door which opens on the terrain and the water. I have taken the key to it, and I mored a boat there this morning. I have had a beautiful escape from being hung, Gringua repeated. Hey? Quick, come, said the other. Both descended towards the city with long strides. End of Book 10, Chapter 6. Book 10, Chapter 7 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor

Starting point is 19:46:15 Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 10, Chapter 7, Chateau Pay to the rescue. The reader will perhaps recall the critical situation in which we left Quasimoto. The brave deaf man, assailed on all sides, had lost, if not all courage, at least all hope of saving, not himself, he was not thinking of himself, but the gypsy. He ran distractedly among the gallery. Notre Dame was on the point of being taken by storm by the outcasts. All at once, a great galloping of horses filled the neighboring streets, and with a long file of torches and a thick column of cavaliers, with free reins and lances in rest, these furious sounds debouched on the place like a hurricane.

Starting point is 19:47:05 "'France! France! Cut down the louts! Chateaupe to the rescue! Provost ship! Provost ship!' The frightened vagabonds wheeled round. Quasimoto, who did not hear, saw the naked swords, the torches, the irons of the pikes, all that cavalry, at the head of which he recognized Captain Phoebus. He beheld the confusion of the outcasts, the terror of some, the disturbance among the bravest of them, and from this unexpected succor he recovered so much strength that he hurled from the church the first assailants who were already climbing into the gallery.

Starting point is 19:47:43 It was, in fact, the king's troops who had arrived. The vagabonds behaved bravely. They defended themselves like desperate men. Caught on the flank by the Rue Saint-Pierro Buff, and in the rear through the Rue du Parvi, driven to bay against Notre Dame, which they still assailed, and Quasimodo defended, at the same time besiegers and besieged. They were in the singular situation in which Compt Henri Arcoeur, Turinum Obsessor, Edom Edom Essesus, as his epitaph says, found himself later on at the famous siege of Turin in 1640,

Starting point is 19:48:23 between Prince Thomas of Savoy whom he was besieging and the Marquis de Laganae, who was blockading him. The battle was frightful. There was a dog's tooth for wolf's flesh, as P. Mato says. The king's cavaliers, in whose midst Phoebus de Chateau, bore himself valiantly, gave no quarter, and the slash of the sword disposed of those who escaped the thrust of the lance. The outcasts, badly armed, foamed, and bit with rage. Men, women, children hurled themselves on the creppers and the breasts of the horses, and hung there like cats, with teeth, fingernails, and toe-nails. Others struck the archers in the face with

Starting point is 19:49:06 their torches. Others thrust iron hooks into the necks of the cavaliers and dragged them down. They slashed in pieces those who fell. One was noticed who had a large, glittering scythe, and who for a long time mowed the legs of the horses. He was frightful. He was singing a ditty with a nasal intonation. He swung and drew back his scythe incessantly. At every blow he traced round him a great circle of severed limbs. He advanced thus into the very thickest of the cavalry, with the tranquil slowness, the lolling of the head and the regular breathing of a harvester attacking a field of wheat. It was Clopan-Trifoe. A shot from an archibus laid him low. In the meantime windows had been opened again. The neighbors hearing the war-cries

Starting point is 19:49:57 of the king's troops had mingled in the affray and bullets reigned upon the outcasts from every story. The parvee was filled with a thick smoke, which the musketry streaked with flame. Through it one could confusedly distinguish the front of Notre-Dame and the decrepit Hotel Dieu with some wan invalids gazing down from the heights of its roof, all checkered with dormer windows. At length the vagabonds gave way. Weariness, the lack of good weapons, the fright of this surprise, the musketry from the windows, the valiant attack of the king's troops all overwhelmed them. They forced the line of assailants and fled in every direction, leaving the parvee encumbered with dead.

Starting point is 19:50:43 When Quasimodo, who had not ceased to fight for a moment, beheld this route, he fell on his knees and raised his hands to heaven. Then, intoxicated with joy, he ran, he ascended with the swiftness of a bird to that cell, the approaches to which he had so intrepidly defended. He had but one thought now. It was to kneel before her, whom he had just saved, for the second time. When he entered the cell, he found it empty. End of Book 10, Chapter 7. Part 1 of Book 11, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by

Starting point is 19:51:26 Victor Hugo. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Book 11, Chapter 1, The Little Shoe, Part 1. La Esmeralda was sleeping at the moment when the outcasts a sailor. the church. Soon the ever-increasing uproar around the edifice and the uneasy bleeding of her goat which had been awakened had roused her from her slumbers. She had sat up, she had listened, she had looked, then, terrified by the light and noise, she had rushed from her cell to sea. The aspect of the plas, the vision which was moving in it, the disorder of that nocturnal assault, that hideous crowd, leaping like a cloud of frogs, half seen in the gloom, the croaking of that hoarse multitude, those few red torches running

Starting point is 19:52:18 and crossing each other in the darkness, like the meteors which streak the misty surfaces of marshes. This whole scene produced upon her the effect of a mysterious battle between the phantoms of the witch's Sabbath and the stone monsters of the church. Embed from her very infancy with the superstitions of the Bohemian tribe, her first thought was that she had caught the strange beings peculiar to the night, in their deeds of witchcraft. Then she ran in terror to cower in her cell, asking of her palate some less terrible nightmare. But little by little the first vapors of terror had been dissipated. From the constantly increasing noise and from many other signs of reality she felt herself besieged, not by specters, but by

Starting point is 19:53:08 human beings. Then her fear, though it did not increase, changed its character. She had dreamed of the possibility of a popular mutiny to tear her from her asylum. The idea of once more recovering life, hope, Phoebus, who was ever present in her future, the extreme helplessness of her condition, flight cut off, no support, her abandonment, her isolation, these thoughts and a thousand and others overwhelmed her. She fell upon her knees, with her head on her bed, her hands clasped over her head, full of anxiety and tremors, and although a gypsy, an idolater, and a pagan, she began to entreat with sobs mercy from the good Christian God, and to pray to our lady, her hostess. For even if one believes in nothing, there are moments in life when one is always

Starting point is 19:54:04 of the religion of the temple which is nearest at hand. She remained thus prostrate for a very long time, trembling in truth, more than praying, chilled by the ever closer breath of that furious multitude, understanding nothing of this outburst, ignorant of what was being plotted, what was being done, what they wanted, but foreseeing a terrible issue. In the midst of this anguish she heard someone walking near her. She turned round. Two men, one of whom carried a lantern, had just entered her

Starting point is 19:54:37 cell. She uttered a feeble cry. "'Beer nothing,' said a voice which was not unknown to her. "'It is I. Who are you?' she asked. Pierre Gringua. This name reassured her. She raised her eyes once more and recognized the poet in very fact. But there stood beside him a black figure veiled from head to foot, which struck her by its silence. Oh, continued Gringwa in a tone of reproach. Jolly recognized me before you. The little goat had not, in fact, waited for Gringua to announce his name. No sooner had he entered than it rubbed itself gently against his knees,

Starting point is 19:55:22 covering the poet with caresses and with white hairs, for it was shedding its hair. Gringua returned the caresses. "'Who is that with you?' said the gypsy in a low voice. "'Be at ease,' replied Gringwa. "'Tis one of my friends.' Then the philosopher, setting his lantern on the ground, crouched upon the stones, and exclaimed enthusiastically as he pressed Jolly in his arms. "'Oh, tis a graceful beast! More considerable, no doubt, for its neatness than for its size, but ingenious, subtle, and lettered as a grammarian.

Starting point is 19:56:00 Let us see, my Jolly, hast thou forgotten any of thy pretty trance? How does Master Jacques Charmelo? The man in black did not allow him to finish. He approached Gringua and shook him roughly by the shoulder. Gringua rose. "'Tis true,' said he, "'I forgot that we are in haste. But that is no reason, Master, for getting furious with people in this manner.

Starting point is 19:56:25 My dear and lovely child, your life is in danger, and jollies also. They want to hang you again. We are your friends, and we are your friends. have come to save you. Follow us." "'Is it true?' she exclaimed in dismay. "'Yes, perfectly true. Come quickly.' "'I am willing,' she stammered. "'But why does not your friend speak?'

Starting point is 19:56:49 "'Ah,' said Gringwa, "'tis because his father and mother were fantastic people who made him of a taciturn temperament.' She was obliged to content herself with this explanation. Gringua took her by the hand. His companion picked up the lantern and walked on in front. Fear stunned the young girl. She allowed herself to be led away.

Starting point is 19:57:14 The goat followed them, frisking, so joyous at seeing Gringua again that it made him stumble every moment by thrusting its horns between his legs. "'Such his life,' said the philosopher, every time that he came near falling down, "'tis often our best friends who cause us to be overthrown.' They rapidly descended the staircase of the towers, crossed the church, full of shadows and solitude, and all reverberating with uproar, which formed a frightful contrast, and emerged into the courtyard of the cloister by the red door. The cloister was deserted. The canons had fled to the bishop's palace in order to pray together. The courtyard was empty. A few

Starting point is 19:57:58 frightened lackeys were crouching in dark corners. They directed their steps to towards the door which opened from this court upon the terrain. The man in black opened it with a key which he had about him. Our readers are aware that the terrain was a tongue of land enclosed by walls on the side of the city and belonging to the chapter of Notre Dame, which terminated the island on the east, behind the church. They found this enclosure perfectly deserted. There was here less tumult in the air. The roar of the outcast's assault reached them more confusedly and less clamorously. The fresh breeze which follows the current of a stream

Starting point is 19:58:39 rustled the leaves of the only tree planted on the point of the terrain, with a noise that was already perceptible. But they were still very close to danger. The nearest edifices to them were the Bishop's Palace and the Church. It was plainly evident that there was great internal commotion in the Bishop's Palace. Its shadowy mass was all furrowed with lights which flitted from window to window. As when one has just burned paper, there remains a sombre edifice of ashes in which bright sparks run a thousand eccentric courses. Beside them, the enormous towers

Starting point is 19:59:16 of Notre Dame, thus viewed from behind, with the long nave above which they rise, cut out in black against the red and vast light which filled the parvy, resembled two gigantic andirons of some cyclopean fire-grate. What was to be seen of Paris on all sides wavered before the eye in a gloom mingled with light. Rembrandt has such backgrounds to his pictures. The man with lantern walked straight to the point of the terrain. There, at the very brink of the water, stood the worm-eaten remains of a fence of posts, latticed with lathes, whereon a low vine spread out a few thin branches, like the fingers of an outspoken. spread hand. Behind, in the shadow cast by this trellis, a little boat lay concealed. The man made a sign

Starting point is 20:00:06 to Gringwa and his companion to enter. The goat followed them. The man was last to step in. Then he cut the boat's moorings, pushed it from the shore with a long boat-hook, and, seizing two oars, seated himself in the bow, rowing with all his might towards mid-stream. The seine is very rapid at this point, and he had to be able to bellows, and he had to beas'er. a good deal of trouble in leaving the point of the island. Gringwa'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.

Starting point is 20:00:47 When our philosopher felt the boat sway he clapped his hands and kissed jolly between the thorns. "'Oh!' said he, "'now we are safe. All four of us!' He added, with the air of a profound thinker, "'One is indebted sometimes to fortune, sometimes to ruse, for the happy issue of great enterprises.' The boat made its way slowly towards the right shore.

Starting point is 20:01:14 The young girl watched the unknown man with secret terror. He had carefully turned off the light of his dark lantern. A glimpse could be caught of him in the obscurity, in the bow of the boat, like a specter. His cowl, which was still lowered, formed a sort of mask. And every time that he spread his arms, upon which hung large black sleeves, as he rode, one would have said they were two huge batswings. Moreover, he had not yet uttered a word or breathed the syllable. No other noise was heard in the boat than the splashing of the oars,

Starting point is 20:01:52 mingled with the rippling of the water along her sides. "'Oh, my soul!' exclaimed Gringwa suddenly. "'We are as cheerful and joyous as young owls. We preserve the silence of Pythagoreans of fishes. Pasca-dieu, my friends, I should greatly like to have someone speak to me. The human voice is music to the human ear. Tis not I who say that, but Didamus of Alexandria, and they are illustrious words. Assuredly, Dynamus of Alexandria is no mediocre philosopher.

Starting point is 20:02:28 One word, my lovely child, say but one word to me, I entreat you. By the way, you had a droll and peculiar little pout. Do you still make it? Do you know, my dear, that Parliament hath full jurisdiction over all places of asylum, and that you were running a great risk in your little chamber at Notre Dame? Alas! The little bird Troculus maketh their own. nest in the jaws of the crocodile. Master, here is the moon reappearing. If only they do not perceive us. We are doing a laudable thing in saving Mademoiselle, and yet we should be hung by order of the king if we were caught. Alas, human actions are taken by two handles. That is branded with

Starting point is 20:03:14 disgrace in one which is crowned in another. He admires Cicero, who blames Cateline. Is it not so, Master? What say you to this philosophy? I possess philosophy by instinct, by nature, Oot Apis Geometrium. Come, no one answers me. What unpleasant moods you two are in! I must do all the talking alone. That is what we call a monologue in tragedy. Pascadieu!

Starting point is 20:03:44 I must inform you that I have just seen the king, Louis XI the eleventh, and that I have caught his oath from him. Pascadieu! They're still making a hearty howl in the city. Tis a villainous, malicious old king. He is all swathed in furs. He still owes me the money for my epithalamium, and he came within a nick of hanging me this evening,

Starting point is 20:04:08 which would have been very inconvenient to me. He is niggerly towards men of merit. He ought to read the four books of Salvian of Cologne, ad for seats, avaritium. In truth, tis a paltry king in his ways with men of letters, and one who commits very barbarous cruelties. He is a sponge to soak money raised from the people. His saving is like the spleen which swelleth with the leanness of all the other members.

Starting point is 20:04:39 Hence complaints against the hardness of the times become murmurs against the prince. Under this gentle and pious sire, the gallows crack with the hung, the block, wrought with blood, the prisons burst like over full bellies. This king hath one hand which grasps and one which hangs. He is the procurator of Dom Tax and Monsieur Gibbett. The great are despoiled of their dignities, and the little incessantly overwhelmed with fresh oppressions. He is an exorbitant prince. I love not this monarch. And you, master?" The man in black let the garrulous poet chatter on. He continued to struggle against the violent and narrow current, which separates the prow of

Starting point is 20:05:26 the city and the stem of the island of Notre Dame, which we call today the Isle St. Louis. "'By the way, Master,' continued Gringua suddenly, "'at the moment when we arrived on the Parvee, through the enraged outcasts, did your reverence observe that poor little devil whose skull your deaf man was just cracking on the railing of the gallery of the kings? I am near-sighted and could not recognize him. Do you know who he could be?' The stranger answered not a word, but he suddenly ceased rowing,

Starting point is 20:06:00 his arms fell as though broken, his head sank on his breast, and La Asmoralda heard him sigh convulsively. She shuddered. She had heard such sighs before. The boat, abandoned to itself, floated for several minutes with the stream, But the man in black finally recovered himself, seized the oars once more, and began to row against the current. He doubled the point of the Isle of Notre Dame and made for the landing-place of the Part of Foix.

Starting point is 20:06:33 Ah, said Gringua. Yonder is the Barbou Mansion. Stay-master, look! That group of black roofs which makes such singular angles yonder, above that heap of black, fibrous, grainy, dirty clouds, where the moon is completely crushed and spread out, like the yoke of an egg whose shell is broken. Tis a fine mansion. There is a chapel crowned with a small vault full of very well-carved enrichments. Above you can see the bell-tower, very delicately pierced. There is also a pleasant garden, which consists of a pond,

Starting point is 20:07:08 an aviary, an echo, a mall, a labyrinth, a house for wild beasts, and a quantity of leafy alleys very agreeable to Venus. There is also a rascal of a tithell of a tally. There is also a rascal of a tree, which is called the lewd, because it favored the pleasures of a famous princess and a constable of France, who was a gallant and a wit. Alas, we poor philosophers are to a constable as a plot of cabbages or a radish-bed to the garden of the Louvre. What matters it, after all, human life, for the great, as well as for us, is a mixture of good and evil.

Starting point is 20:07:46 Pain is always by the side of joy, and the same of joy, and the Spondy by the dactyl. Master, I must relate to you the history of the Barbeau Mansion. It ends in tragic fashion. It was in 1319 in the reign of Philippe V, the longest reign of the kings of France. The moral of the story is that the temptations of the flesh are pernicious and malignant. Let us not rest our glance too long on our neighbor's wife, however gratified our senses may be by her beauty.

Starting point is 20:08:17 Fornication is a very libertine thought. Adultery is a-prying into the pleasures of others. Oh, eh, the noise yonder is redoubling! The tumult around Notre Dame was, in fact, increasing. They listened. Cries of victory were heard with tolerable distinctness. All at once, a hundred torches, the light of which glittered upon the helmets of men-at-arms,

Starting point is 20:08:44 spread over the church at all heights, on the towers, on the galleries on the flying buttresses. These torches seemed to be in search of something, and soon distant clamors reached the fugitives distinctly. The gypsy! The sorceress! Death to the gypsy! The unhappy girl dropped her head upon her hands, and the unknown began to row furiously towards the shore. Meanwhile, our philosopher reflected,

Starting point is 20:09:11 he clasped the goat in his arms and gently drew away from the gypsy, who pressed closer and closer to him. him as though to the only asylum which remained to her. It is certain that Gringua was enduring cruel perplexity. He was thinking that the goat also, according to existing law, would be hung if recaptured, which would be a great pity, poor jolly, that he had thus two condemned creatures attached to him, that his companion asked no better than to take charge of the gypsy. A violent combat began between his thoughts, in which, like the Jupiter of the Iliad, he weighed in turn the gypsy and the goat, and he looked at them alternately with eyes moist with tears,

Starting point is 20:09:59 saying between his teeth, "'But I cannot save you both!' A shock informed them that the boat had reached the land at last. The uproar still filled the city. The unknown rose, approached the gypsy. and endeavored to take her arm to assist her to alight. She repulsed him and clung to the sleeve of Gringua, who, in his turn, absorbed in the goat, almost repulsed her.

Starting point is 20:10:26 Then she sprang alone from the boat. She was so troubled that she did not know what she did or whither she was going. Thus she remained for a moment, stunned, watching the water flow past. When she gradually returned to her senses, she found herself alone on the wharf with the unknown. It appears that Gringua had taken advantage of the moment of debarkation to slip away with the goat into the blockhouses of the Rue Grangier-sur-La-O. The poor gypsy shivered when she beheld herself alone with this man.

Starting point is 20:11:00 She tried to speak, to cry out, to call Gringua. Her tongue was dumb in her mouth, and no sound left her lips. All at once she felt the stranger's hand on her. hers. It was a strong, cold hand. Her teeth chattered. She turned paler than the ray of moonlight which illuminated her. The man spoke not a word. He began to ascend towards the Plastogreve, holding her by the hand. At that moment she had a vague feeling that destiny is an irresistible force. She had no more resistance left in her. She allowed herself to be dragged along, running while he walked.

Starting point is 20:11:41 This spot the key ascended, but it seemed to her as though she were descending a slope. She gazed about her on all sides, not a single passer-by. The key was absolutely deserted. She heard no sound, she felt no people moving save in the tumultuous and glowing city, from which she was separated only by an arm of the sane, and whence her name reached her, mingled with cries of death. The rest of Paris was spread around her in great blocks of shadows. Meanwhile, the stranger continued to drag her along with the same silence and the same rapidity. She had no recollection of any of the places where she was walking. As she passed before a lighted

Starting point is 20:12:27 window, she made an effort, drew up suddenly, and cried out, "'Help!' The bourgeois, who was standing at the window, opened it, appeared there in his shirt with his lamp, stared at the key with a stupid air, uttered some words which she did not understand, and closed his shutter again. It was her last gleam of hope extinguished. The man in black did not utter a syllable. He held her firmly and set out again at a quicker pace. She no longer resisted, but followed him, completely broken. From time to time she called together a little strength and said, in a voice broken by the unevenness, of the pavement and the breathlessness of her flight.

Starting point is 20:13:11 "'Who are you? Who are you?' he made no reply. They arrived thus, still keeping along the key at a tolerably spacious square. It was the greve. In the middle a sort of black, erect cross was visible. It was the gallows. She recognized all this and saw where she was. The man halted, turned towards her, and raised his cowl. Oh, she stammered, almost petrified. I knew well that it was he again. It was the priest.

Starting point is 20:13:47 He looked like the ghost of himself. That is an effect of the moonlight. It seems as though one beheld only the specters of things in that light. Listen, he said to her, and she shuddered at the sound of that fatal voice, which she had not heard for a long time. He continued speaking with those brief and panting jerks, which betoken deep internal convulsions. Listen, we are here.

Starting point is 20:14:13 I am going to speak to you. This is the greve. This is an extreme point. Destiny gives us to one another. I am going to decide as to your life. You will decide as to my soul. Here is a place, here is a night beyond which one sees nothing. Then listen to me.

Starting point is 20:14:33 I am going to tell you. In the first place, speak not to me. of your Phoebus. As he spoke thus he paced to and fro, like a man who cannot remain in one place, and dragged her after him. Do not speak to me of him. Do you see, if you utter that name, I know not what I shall do, but it will be terrible. Then, like a body which recovers its center of gravity, he became motionless once more, but his words betrayed no less agitation. His voice grew lower and lower. "'Do not turn your head aside thus.

Starting point is 20:15:13 Listen to me. It is a serious matter. In the first place, here's what has happened. All this will not be laughed at. I swear it to you. What was I saying? Remind me. Oh, there is a decree of Parliament which gives you back to the scaffold.

Starting point is 20:15:30 I have just rescued you from their hands. But they are pursuing you. Look! He extended his arm toward the city. The search seemed, in fact, to be still in progress there. The uproar drew nearer. The tower of the lieutenant's house, situated opposite the Greve, was full of clamors and light, and soldiers could be seen running on the opposite key with torches, and these cries, "'The gypsy! Where is the gypsy? Death! Death!' "'You see that they are in pursuit of you, and that I am not lying to you.

Starting point is 20:16:05 I love you. Do not open your mouth. Reframe from speaking to me, rather, if it be only to tell me that you hate me. I have made up my mind not to hear that again. I have just saved you. Let me finish first. I can save you wholly. I have prepared everything. It is yours at will. If you wish, I can do it." He broke off violently. No, that is not what I should say. As he went with hurried step and made her hurry also, for he did not release her, he walked straight to the gallows and pointed to it with his finger. "'Choose between us too,' he said coldly.

Starting point is 20:16:50 She tore herself from his hands and fell at the foot of the jibbet, embracing that funereal support. Then she half turned her beautiful head and looked at the priest over her shoulder. One would have said that she was a holy virgin at the foot of the cross. The priest remained motionless, his finger still raised toward the gibbet, preserving his attitude like a statue. At length the gypsy said to him, "'It causes me less horror than you do.'

Starting point is 20:17:23 Then he allowed his arm to sink slowly, and gazed at the pavement in profound dejection. "'If these stones could speak,' he murmured, Yes, they would say that a very unhappy man stands here." He went on. The young girl, kneeling before the gallows, enveloped in her long flowing hair, let him speak on without interruption. He now had a gentle and plaintive accent, which contrasted sadly with the haughty harshness of his features.

Starting point is 20:17:58 "'I love you. Oh, how true that is! So nothing comes of that fire which burns my heart. heart. Alas, young girl, night and day. Yes, night and day, I tell you, it is torture. Oh, I suffer too much, my poor child. Tis a thing deserving of compassion, I assure you. You see that I speak gently to you. I really wish that you should no longer cherish this horror of me. After all, if a man loves a woman, tis not his fault. Oh, my God. What?

Starting point is 20:18:38 So you will never pardon me? You will always hate me? All is over, then. It is that which renders me evil, do you see, and horrible to myself. You will not even look at me. You are thinking of something else, perchance, while I stand here and talk to you, shuddering on the brink of eternity for both of us. Above all things, do not speak to me of the officer.

Starting point is 20:19:04 I would cast myself at your knees, I would kiss not your feet, but the earth which is under your feet. I would sob like a child, I would tear my breast, not words, but my very heart and vitals to tell you that I love you. All would be useless, all. And yet you have nothing in your heart but what is tender and merciful. You are radiant with the most beautiful mildness. You are holy sweet, good, pitiful, and charming.

Starting point is 20:19:38 Alas, you cherish no ill will for anyone but me alone. Oh, what a fatality! He hid his face in his hands. The young girl heard him weeping. It was for the first time. Thus erect and shaken by sobs, he was more miserable and more suppliant than went on his knees. He wept thus for a considerable. time.

Starting point is 20:20:04 "'Come,' he said, these first tears passed. I have no more words. I had, however, thought well as to what you would say. Now I tremble and shiver and break down at the decisive moment. I feel conscious of something supreme enveloping us, and I stammer. Oh, I shall fall upon the pavement if you do not take pity on me, pity on yourself. not condemn us both. If you only knew how much I love you!

Starting point is 20:20:39 What a heart is mine! Oh, what desertion of all virtue! What desperate abandonment of myself! A doctor I mock at science. A gentleman I tarnish my own name. A priest, I make the missile a pillow of sensuality. I spit in the face of my God. All this for thee and chance.

Starting point is 20:21:03 to be more worthy of thy hell. And you will not have the apostate. Oh, let me tell you all, more still, something more horrible! Oh, yet more horrible!" As he uttered these last words his air became utterly distracted. He was silent for a moment and resumed as though speaking to himself and in a strong voice. "'Kain, what hast thou done with thy brother?' There was another silence, and he went on.

Starting point is 20:21:37 "'What have I done with him, Lord? I received him. I reared him. I nourished him. I loved him. I idolized him, and I have slain him. Yes, Lord, they have just dashed his head before my eyes on the stone of thine house, and it is because of me, because of this woman, because of her.' His eye was wild. His voice grew ever weaker. He repeated many times yet mechanically at tolerably long intervals, like a bell prolonging its last vibration. Because of her.

Starting point is 20:22:13 Because of her! Then his tongue no longer articulated any perceptible sound, but his lips still moved. All at once he sank together, like something crumbling and lay motionless on the earth. with his head on his knees. A touch from the young girl, as she drew her foot from under him, brought him to himself. He passed his hand slowly over his hollow cheeks and gazed for several moments at his fingers, which were wet.

Starting point is 20:22:44 "'What?' he murmured. "'I have wept!' And turning suddenly to the gypsy with unspeakable anguish. "'Alas! You have looked coldly on at my tears! child, do you know that those tears are of lava? Is it indeed true? Nothing touches when it comes from the man one does not love? If you were to see me die, you would laugh. Oh, I do not wish to see you die. One word, a single word of pardon. Say not that you love me. Say only that you will do it. That will suffice. I will save you.

Starting point is 20:23:26 If not, oh, the hour is passing. I entreat you by all that is sacred. Do not wait until I shall have turned to stone again, like that gibbet which also claims you. Reflect that I hold the destinies of both of us in my hand, that I am mad, it is terrible, that I may let all go to destruction, and that there is beneath us a bottomless abyss unhappy girl,

Starting point is 20:23:52 whether my fall will follow yours to all eternity. One word of kindness. Say one word. Only one word. She opened her mouth to answer him. He flung himself on his knees to receive with adoration the word, possibly a tender one, which was on the point of issuing from her lips. She said to him,

Starting point is 20:24:17 You are an assassin! The priest clasped her in his arms with fury and began to laugh with an abominable laugh. "'Well, yes, an assassin,' he said, "'and I will have you. You will not have me for your slave. You shall have me for your master. I will have you. I have a den, whither I will drag you. You will follow me. You will be obliged to follow me, or I will deliver you up. You must die, my beauty, or be mine. Belong to the priest, belong to the apostate, belong to the assassin. This very night, do you hear? Come, Joy, kiss me, mad girl, the tomb or my bed. His eyes sparkled with

Starting point is 20:25:05 impurity and rage. His lewd lips reddened the young girl's neck. She struggled in his arms. He covered her with furious kisses. "'Do not bite me, monster,' she cried. "'Oh, the foul, odious monk, leave me. I will tear out thy ugly gray hair and fling it in thy face by the handful. He reddened, turned pale, then released her and gazed at her with a gloomy air. She thought herself victorious, and continued, "'I tell you that I belong to my Phoebus, that tis Fibus whom I love, that tis Fibus who is handsome. You are old priest, you are ugly, begone!' He gave vent to a horrible cry, like the wretch to whom a hot iron is applied.

Starting point is 20:25:56 "'die then,' he said, gnashing his teeth. She saw his terrible look and tried to fly. He caught her once more. He shook her. He flung her on the ground, and walked with rapid strides towards the corner of the Tour Roland, dragging her after him along the pavement by her beautiful hands. On arriving there, he turned to her, "'For the last time, will you be mine?' She replied with emphasis.

Starting point is 20:26:26 No!" Then he cried in a loud voice, "'Gudule! Goudoulet! Here is the gypsy! Take your vengeance!' The young girl felt herself seized suddenly by the elbow. She looked.

Starting point is 20:26:42 A fleshless arm was stretched from an opening in the wall and held her like a hand of iron. "'Hold her well,' said the priest. "'Tis the gypsy escaped. Release her not. I will go in search of the sergeants. You shall see her hanged." End of Book 11, Chapter 1, Part 2 of Book 11, Chapter 1 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Book 11, Chapter 1 The Little Shoe, Part 2. A guttural laugh replied from the Indian interior of the wall to these bloody words.

Starting point is 20:27:37 Ha! ha! ha! The gypsy watched the priest retire in the direction of the pot, Notre Dame. A cavalcade was heard in that direction. The young girl had recognized the spiteful recluse. Panting with terror, she tried to disengage herself. She writhed, she made many starts of agony and despair, but the other held her with incredible strength. The lean and bony fingers which bruised her, clenched on her flesh and met around it.

Starting point is 20:28:07 One would have said that this hand was riveted to her arm. It was more than a chain, more than a fetter, more than a ring of iron. It was a living pair of pincers, endowed with intelligence, which emerged from the wall. She fell back against the wall exhausted, and then the fear of death took possession of her. She thought of the beauty of life, of youth, of the view of heaven, the aspects of nature, of her love for Phoebus, of all that was vanishing and all that was approaching, of the priest who was denouncing her, of the headsman who was to come, of the gallows which was there.

Starting point is 20:28:48 Then she felt terror mount to the very roots of her hair, and she heard the mocking laugh of a recluse, saying to her in a very low tone, "'Ha, ha, ha, you are to be hanged!' She turned a dying look towards the window, and she beheld the fierce face of the sacked nun through the bars. "'What have I done to you?' she said, almost lifeless. The recluse did not reply, but began to mumble with a sing-song, irritated, mocking intonation.

Starting point is 20:29:22 "'Dotter of Egypt, da'er of Egypt, da'er of Egypt.' The unhappy Esmeralda dropped her head beneath her flowing hair, comprehending that it was no human being she had to deal with. All at once, the recluse exclaimed, as though the gypsy's question had taken all this time to reach her brain, "'What have you done to me, you say? Ah, what have you done to me, gypsy? Well, listen, I had a child, you see. I had a child. A child. A child, a child. A child I tell you. A pretty little girl, my Agnes. She went on wildly, kissing something in the dark. Well, do you see, daughter of Egypt? They took my child from me. They stole my child. They ate my child. That is what you have done to me. The young girl replied like a lamb.

Starting point is 20:30:18 Alas, perchance, I was not born then. Oh, yes, returned the recluse. You must have been born. You were among them. She would be the same age as you. So, I have been here fifteen years. Fifteen years have I suffered. Fifteen years have I prayed. Fifteen years have I beat my head against these four walls. I tell you that, twas the gypsies who stole her from me. Do you hear that? Who ate her with their teeth? Have you a heart? Imagine a child playing, a child sucking, a child sleeping. It is so innocent a thing. Well, that, that is what they took for me, what they killed. The good God knows it well. Today it is my turn. I am going to eat the gypsy. Oh, I would bite you well if the bars did not prevent me. My head is too large. little one, while she was asleep. And if they woke her up when they took her, in vain she might cry, I was not there. Ah, gypsy mothers, you devoured my child! Come see your own!' Then she began to laugh or to gnash her teeth, for the two things resembled each other in that furious face. The day was beginning to dawn, an ashy gleam dimly lighted this scene,

Starting point is 20:31:53 and the gallows grew more and more distinct in the square. On the other side, in the direction of the bridge of Notre Dame, the poor condemned girl fancied that she heard the sound of cavalry approaching. "'Madam!' she cried, clasping her hands and falling on her knees, disheveled, distracted, mad with fright. "'Madam! Have pity! They are coming! I have done nothing to you! Would you wish to see me die in this horrible fashion before your very eyes? You are pitiful, I am sure. It is too frightful.

Starting point is 20:32:31 Let me make my escape. Release me. Mercy. I do not wish to die like that. Give me back my child, said the recluse. Mercy, mercy! Give me back my child! "' Release me in the name of heaven.

Starting point is 20:32:51 "'Give me back my child!' Again the young girl fell, exhausted, broken, and having already the glassy eye of a person in the grave. "'Alas, she faltered, you seek your child, I seek my parents.' "'Give me back, my little Agnes,' pursued Goudelais. "'You do not know where she is. Die, I will tell you. I was a woman of the town. I had a child. They took my child. It was the gypsies. You see plainly that you must die. When your mother, the gypsy comes to reclaim you,

Starting point is 20:33:33 I shall say to her, Mother, look at that gibbet, or give me back my child. Do you know where she is, my little daughter? Stay, I will show you. Here is her shoe. All that has left me of her. Do you know where its mate is? If you know, tell me, and if it is only at the other end of the world, I will crawl to it on my knees. As she spoke thus, with her other arm extended through the window, she showed the gypsy the little embroidered shoe.

Starting point is 20:34:08 It was already light enough to distinguish its shape and its colors. "'Let me see that shoe,' said the gypsy, quivering. God! God! And at the same time, with her hand which was at liberty, she quickly opened the little bag ornamented with green glass, which she wore about her neck. "'Go on, go on!' grumbled Goudelais. Search your demons' amulet.

Starting point is 20:34:36 All at once she stopped short, trembled in every limb, and cried in a voice which proceeded from the very depths of her being. My daughter! The gypsy had just drawn from the bag a little shoe absolutely similar to the other. To this little shoe was attached a parchment on which was inscribed this charm. Quan le parale, ratrovare, to mer to tendre le bra. When thou shalt find its mate, thy mother will stretch out her arms to thee. Quicker than a flash of lightning, the recluse had laid the two shoes together, had read

Starting point is 20:35:17 the parchment, and had put close to the bars of the window, her face beaming with celestial joy as she cried, "'My daughter! My daughter!' "'My mother!' said the gypsy. "'Here we are unequal to the task of depicting the scene. The wall and the iron bars were between them. "'Oh, the wall!' cried the recluse. Oh, to see her and not to embrace her. Your hand! Your hand!

Starting point is 20:35:46 The young girl passed her arm through the opening. The recluse threw herself on that hand, pressed her lips to it, and there remained, buried in that kiss, giving no other sign of life than a sob which heaved her breast from time to time. In the meanwhile, she wept in torrents, in silence, in the dark, like a rain at night. The poor mother poured out in floods upon that adored hand the dark and deep well of tears which lay within her, and into which her grief had filtered, drop by drop, for fifteen years. All at once she rose, flung aside her long gray hair from her brow, and without uttering a word,

Starting point is 20:36:27 began to shake the bars of her cage cell, with both hands, more furiously than a lioness. The bars held firm. Then she went to seek in the corner of her cell a huge paving stone, which served as her pillow, and launched it against them with such violence that one of the bars broke, emitting thousands of sparks. A second blow completely shattered the old iron cross which barricaded the window. Then, with her two hands, she finished breaking and removing the rusted stumps of the bars. There are moments when woman's hands possess superfluous. human strength.

Starting point is 20:37:05 A passage broken, less than a minute, was required for her to seize her daughter by the middle of her body, and draw her into the cell. "'Come, let me draw you out of the abyss,' she murmured. When her daughter was inside the cell she laid her gently on the ground, then raised her up again, and bearing her in her arms as though she were still only her little Agnes, she walked to and fro in her little room, intoxicated, frantic, joyous, crying out, singing, kissing her daughter, talking to her, bursting into laughter, melting into tears, all at once and with vehemence. "'My daughter, my daughter!' she said.

Starting point is 20:37:50 "'I have my daughter. Here she is. The good God has given her back to me. Ha, you, come all of you, is there anyone there to see that I have my daughter?' Lord Jesus, how beautiful she is! You have made me wait fifteen years, my good God, but it was in order to give her back to me beautiful. Then the gypsies did not eat her. Who said so? My little daughter, my little daughter, kiss me, those good gypsies.

Starting point is 20:38:23 I love the gypsies. It is really you. That was what made my heart leap every time that you passed by. And I took that for hatred. Forgive me, my Agnes, forgive me. You thought me very malicious, did you not? I love you. Have you still the little mark on your neck? Let us see.

Starting point is 20:38:46 She still has it. Oh, you are beautiful. It was I who gave you those big eyes, mademoiselle. Kiss me, I love you. It is nothing to me that other mothers have children. I scorn them now. They have only to come and see. Here is mine.

Starting point is 20:39:06 See her neck, her eyes, her hair, her hands. Find me anything as beautiful as that. Oh, I promise you she will have lovers, that she will. I have wept for fifteen years. All my beauty has departed and has fallen to her. Kiss me." She addressed her to a thousand other extravagant remarks, whose accent constituted her soul beauty, disarranged the poor girl's garments even to the point of making her blush,

Starting point is 20:39:38 smoothed her silky hair with her hand, kissed her foot, her knee, her brow, her eyes, was in raptures over everything. The young girl let her have her way, repeating at intervals and very low and with infinite tenderness. My mother! Do you see, my little girl? resumed the recluse, interspersing her words with kisses. I shall love you dearly. We will go away from here. We are going to be very happy.

Starting point is 20:40:08 I have inherited something in rhymes in our country. You know rhymes? Ah, no, you do not know it. You were too small. If you only knew how pretty you were at the age of four months. Tiny feet that people came even from Epernay, which is seven leagues away to sea. We shall have a field, a house.

Starting point is 20:40:30 I will put you to sleep in my bed. My God! My God! Who would believe this? I have my daughter. Oh, my mother! said the young girl, at length, finding strength to speak in her emotion.

Starting point is 20:40:49 The gypsy woman told me so. There was a good gypsy of our band who died last year, who has always cared for me like a nurse. It was she who placed this little bag about my house. neck. She always said to me, little one, guard this jewel well, tis a treasure. It will cause thee to find thy mother once again. Thou wearest thy mother about thy neck. The gypsy predicted it. The sacked nun again pressed her daughter in her arms. Come, let me kiss you. You say that prettily. When we are in the country, we will place these

Starting point is 20:41:27 little shoes on an infant Jesus in the church. We certainly owe that to the good, holy virgin. What a pretty voice you have! When you spoke to me just now, it was music. Ah, my Lord God, I have found my child again. But is this story credible? Nothing will kill one, or I should have died of joy. And then she began to clap her hands again, and to laugh and to cry out, We are going to be so happy!' At that moment the cell resounded with the clang of arms and a galloping of horses, which seemed to be coming from the Pont Notre Dame, amid advancing farther and farther along the key.

Starting point is 20:42:13 The gypsy threw herself with anguish into the arms of the sacked nun. "'Save me! Save me, Mother! They are coming!' "'Oh, heaven! What are you saying?' "'I had forgotten. They are in pursuit of you. What have you done?' I know not, replied the unhappy child, but I am condemned to die. To die, said Gudile, staggering, as though struck by lightning. To die! She repeated slowly, gazing at her daughter with staring eyes.

Starting point is 20:42:46 Yes, mother, replied the frightened young girl. They went to kill me. They're coming to seize me. That gallows is for me. Save me, save me, they're coming. Save me." The recluse remained for several moments, motionless and petrified. Then she moved her head in a sign of doubt, and suddenly, giving vent to a burst of laughter, but with that terrible laugh which had come back to her. Oh, oh, no!

Starting point is 20:43:16 Tis a dream of which you are telling me! Ah, yes, I lost her. That lasted fifteen years, and then I found her again, and that lasted a minute. And they would take her from me again. And now, when she is beautiful, when she is grown up, when she speaks to me, when she loves me, it is now that they would come to devour her before my very eyes, and I, her mother. Oh, no, these things are not possible. The good God does not permit such things as that.

Starting point is 20:43:50 Here the calvocate appeared to halt, and a voice was heard to say in the distance, "'This way, Monsieur Tristan, the priest says that we shall find her at the rattle.' The noise of the horses began again. The recluse sprang to her feet with a shriek of despair. "'Fly! Fly, fly, my child! All comes back to me. You are right. It is your death. Horror, maledictions! Fly!' she thrust her head through the window, and withdrew it again hastily. "'Remain,' she said in a low, curt and lugubour. as she pressed the hand of the gypsy who was more dead than alive.

Starting point is 20:44:32 Remain, do not breathe. There are soldiers everywhere. You cannot get out. It is too light. Her eyes were dry and burning. She remained silent for a moment, but she paced the cell hurriedly, and halted now and then to pluck out handfuls of her gray hairs, which she afterwards tore with her teeth.

Starting point is 20:44:53 Suddenly she said, They draw near. I shall speak with them. Hide yourself in this corner. They will not see you. I will tell them that you have made your escape, that I released you if they—' She set her daughter down, for she was still carrying her, in one corner of the cell which was not visible from without. She made her crouch down, arranged her carefully, so that neither foot nor hand projected from the shadow, untied her black hair, which she spread over her white robe to conceal it, placed in front of her her jug and her paving stone, the only articles of furniture which she possessed, imagining that this jug and stone would hide her. And when this was

Starting point is 20:45:37 finished, she became more tranquil and knelt down to pray. The day, which was only dawning, still left many shadows in the rat-hole. At that moment the voice of the priest, that infernal voice, passed very close to the cell, crying, "'This way, Captain Fibas de Chateaupe.' At that name, at that voice, La Esmeralda, crouching in her corner, made a movement. "'Do not stir,' said Goodelais. She had barely finished when a tumult of men, swords, and horses halted around the cell. The mother rose quickly and went to post herself before her window, in order to stop it up.

Starting point is 20:46:20 She beheld a large troop of armed men, both horse and foot, drawn up on the greve. The commander dismounted and came to order. "'Old woman,' said this man, who had an atrocious face, "'we are in search of a witch to hang her. We were told that you had her.' The poor mother assumed as indifferent an air as she could, and replied, "'I know not what you mean.' The other resumed, "'Tet-Due! What was it that frightened Archdeacon said?

Starting point is 20:46:55 Where is he?' "'Monseigneur,' said a soldier, "'he has disappeared.' "'Come now, old madwoman,' began the commander again. "'Do not lie. A sorceress was given in charge to you. What have you done with her?' The recluse did not wish to deny all, for fear of awakening suspicion, and replied in a sincere and surly tone.

Starting point is 20:47:21 If you are speaking of a big young girl who was put into my hands a while ago, I will tell you that she bit me and that I released her. There, leave me in peace. The commander made a grimace of disappointment. Don't lie to me, old Spector, said he. My name is Tristan Lermite,

Starting point is 20:47:44 and I am the king's gossip. "'Tristin, the hermit, do you hear?' he added, as he glanced at the plaster grieve around him. "'Tis a name which has an echo here.' "'You might be Satan the hermit,' replied Goudelais, who was regaining hope. "'But I should have nothing else to say to you, and I should never be afraid of you.' "'Tet-do,' said Tristan. "'Here is a crone. Ah, so the witch-girl hath fled.' And in which direction did she go?"

Starting point is 20:48:19 Goudelais replied in a careless tone. Through the Rue de Montaigne, I believe. Tristan turned his head and made a sign to his troop to prepare to set out on the march again. The recluse breathed freely once more. Monseigneur, suddenly said an archer, ask the old elf why the bars of her window are broken in this manner. This question brought anguish again to the heart of the

Starting point is 20:48:46 miserable mother. Nevertheless, she did not lose all presence of mind. They have always been thus, she stammered. "'Bah!' retorted the archer. "'Only yesterday they still formed a fine black cross, which inspired devotion.' Tristan cast a sidelong glance at the recluse. "'I think the old dame is getting confused.' The unfortunate woman felt that all depended on her self-position. possession, and although with death in her soul she began to grin.

Starting point is 20:49:21 Mothers possess such strength. "'Bah!' said she, "'the man is drunk. Tis more than a year since the tail of a stone-cart dashed against my window and broke in the grating. And how I cursed the cart or two!' "'Tis true,' said another archer. "'I was there.' "'Always and everywhere people are to be found who have seen everything. This unexpected testimony from the archer re-encouraged the recluse,

Starting point is 20:49:50 whom this interrogatory was forcing to cross an abyss on the edge of a knife. But she was condemned to a perpetual alternative of hope and alarm. "'If it was a cart which did it,' retorted the first soldier, "'the stumps of the bar should be thrust inwards, while they actually are pushed outwards.' "'Oh, ho!' said Tristan to the soldier. You have the nose of an inquisitor of the Chatellae, reply to what he says, old woman. Good heavens, she exclaimed, driven to bay, and in a voice that was full of tears in despite of her efforts. I swear to you, Monseigneur, that twas a cart which broke those bars.

Starting point is 20:50:38 You heard the man who saw it, and then what has that to do with your gypsy? "'Hum!' growled Tristan. "'The devil!' went on the soldier, flattered by the provost's praise. "'These fractures of the iron are perfectly fresh.' Tristan tossed his head. She turned pale. "'How long ago, say you, did the cart do it?' "'A month, a fortnight, perhaps, monsieur, I know not.' "'She first said, more than a year.

Starting point is 20:51:13 observed the soldier. "'That is suspicious,' said the provost. "'Monsignor,' she cried, still pressed against the opening, and trembling, lest suspicion should lead them to thrust their heads through and look into her cell. "'Monseigneur, I swear to you that twas a cart which broke this grating. I swear it to you by the angels of paradise. If it was not a cart, may I be eternally damned, and I reject

Starting point is 20:51:43 God. You put a great deal of heat into that oath, said Tristan, with his inquisitorial glance. The poor woman felt her assurance vanishing more and more. She had reached the point of blundering, and she comprehended with terror that she was saying what she ought not to have said. Here another soldier came up, crying, "'Monsieur, the old hag lies! The sorceress did not flee through the rue de moton.

Starting point is 20:52:12 The street chain has remained stretched all night, and the chain-guard has seen no one pass." Tristan, whose face became more sinister with every moment, addressed the recluse. "'What have you to say to that?' She tried to make head against this new incident. "'That I do not know, Monseigneur, that I may have been mistaken. I believe, in fact, that she crossed the water.' "'That is in the opposite. Opposite direction," said the provost, and it is not very likely that she would wish to re-enter

Starting point is 20:52:48 the city where she was being pursued. You are lying, old woman." And then," added the first soldier, there is no boat either on this side of the stream or on the other. She swam across, replied the recluse, defending her ground foot by foot. Do women swim?" said the soldier. "'Ted dear, old woman, you are lying,' repeated Tristan angrily. "'I have a good mind to abandon that sorceress and take you.

Starting point is 20:53:23 A quarter of an hour of torture will, perchance, draw the truth from your throat. Come, you are to follow us.' She seized on these words with avidity. "'As you please, Monseigneur, do it, do it, torture.' I am willing. Take me away. Quick, quick! Let us set out at once." During that time, she said to herself, my daughter will make her escape. "'Steath!' said the provost. "'What an appetite for the rack! I understand, not this madwoman at all!'

Starting point is 20:53:58 An old, grey-haired sergeant of the guard stepped out of the ranks, and addressing the provost. "'Mad in sooth, Monsignor! If she released her, the gypsy, it was not her fault, for she loves not the gypsies. I have been of the watch these fifteen years, and I hear her every evening cursing the bohemian women with endless imprecations. If the one of whom we are in pursuit is, as I suppose, the little dancer with the goat, she detests that one above all the rest." Goudelay made an effort and said, "'That one above all!'

Starting point is 20:54:37 The unanimous testimony of the men of the watch confirmed the old sergeant's words to the provost. Tristan Lermite, in despair at extracting anything from the recluse, turned his back on her, and with unspeakable anxiety she beheld him direct his course slowly towards his horse. "'Come,' he said between his teeth, "'March on! Let us set out again on the quest. I shall not sleep until that gypsy is hanged."

Starting point is 20:55:08 But he still hesitated for some time before mounting his horse. Goudelais palpitated between life and death, and as she beheld him cast about the plas, that uneasy look of a hunting dog, which instinctively feels that the lair of the beast is close to him and is loath to go away. At length he shook his head and leaped into his saddle. Goudalais's horribly compressed heart now dilated, and she said in a low voice, as she cast a

Starting point is 20:55:39 glance at her daughter whom she had not ventured to look at while they were there, saved. The poor child had remained all this time in her corner without breathing, without moving, with the idea of death before her. She had lost nothing of the scene between Goudelais and Tristan, and the anguish of her mother had found its echo in her heart. She had heard all the successive snappings of the thread by which she hung suspended over the Gulf.

Starting point is 20:56:09 Twenty times she had fancied that she saw it break, and at last she began to breathe again and to feel her foot on firm ground. At that moment she heard a voice saying to the provost, "'Corboof, Monsieur Le Provost, "'Tis no affair of mine, a man of arms to hang witches. The rabble of the populace is suppressed. I leave you to attend to the matter alone.

Starting point is 20:56:36 You will allow me to rejoin my company, who are waiting for their captain." The voice was that of Phoebus de Chateaupey. That which took place within her was ineffable. He was there, her friend, her protector, her support, her refuge, her Phoebus. She rose, and before her mother could prevent her, she had rushed to the window, crying, "'Phebus! Aid me, my Phoebus!'

Starting point is 20:57:04 "'Foebus was no longer there. He had just turned the corner of the Rue de la Cotelerie at a gallop. But Tristan had not yet taken his departure. The recluse rushed upon her daughter with a roar of agony. She dragged her violently back, digging her nails into her neck.

Starting point is 20:57:25 A tigress mother does not stand on trifles. But it was too late, Tristan had seen. "'Eh, hey!' he exclaimed with a laugh, which laid bare all his teeth and made his face resemble the muzzle of a wolf. "'Two mice in the trap!' "'I suspected as much,' said the soldier. Tristan clapped him on the shoulder. "'You are a good cat.

Starting point is 20:57:55 "'Come,' he added. "'Where is Henri Cousin?' A man who had neither the garments nor the air of a soldier stepped from the ranks. He wore a costume half gray, half brown, flat hair, leather sleeves, and carried a bundle of ropes in his huge hand. This man always attended Tristan, who always attended Louis Xilventh. "'Friend,' said Tristan Larmatay, "'I presume that this is the sorceress of whom we are search. You will hang me this one.

Starting point is 20:58:30 Have you your ladder?" There is one yonder, under the shed of the pillar-house," replied the man. Is it on this justice that the thing is to be done?" he added, pointing to the stone gibbet. "'Yes.' "'Oh, way,' continued the man with a huge laugh, which was still more brutal than that of the provost. We shall not have far to go."

Starting point is 20:58:54 "'Make haste,' said Tristan. You shall laugh afterwards." In the meantime the recluse had not uttered another word since Tristan had seen her daughter and all hope was lost. She had flung the poor gypsy, half dead, into the corner of the cellar, and had placed herself once more at the window with both hands resting on the angle of the sill like two claws. In this attitude she was seen to cast upon all the soldiers her glance, which had become wild and frantic once more. At the moment when René Cousin approached her cell,

Starting point is 20:59:32 she showed him so savage a face that he shrank back. Monseigneur, he said, returning to the provost, "'Which am I to take?' "'The young one. So much the better, for the old one seemeth difficult.' "'Poor little dancer with the goat,' said the old sergeant of the watch. René Cousin approached the window again. The mother's eyes made his own droop.

Starting point is 21:00:01 He said with a good deal of timidity, "'Madam,' she interrupted him in a very low but furious voice, "'What do you ask?' "'It is not you,' he said. "'It is the other.' "'What other?' "'The young one.' She began to shake her head, crying,

Starting point is 21:00:23 "'There is no one! There is no one! There is no one!' "'There is no one!' "'Yes, there is,' retorted the hangman. "'And you know it well. Let me take the young one. I have no wish to harm you.' She said with a strange sneer, "'Ah, so you have no wish to harm me!' "'Let me have the other, madam. Tis monsieur the provost who wills it.' She repeated with a look of madness,

Starting point is 21:00:56 "'There is no one here.' "'I tell you that there is,' replied the executioner. "'We have all seen that there are two of you.' "'Look then,' said the recluse with a sneer. "'Thrust your head through the window.' The executioner observed the mother's fingernails and dared not. "'Make haste!' shouted Tristan, who had just ranged his troops in a circle round the rat-hole, and who sat on his horse beside

Starting point is 21:01:28 the gallows. René returned once more to the provost in great embarrassment. He had flung his rope on the ground, and was twisting his hat between his hands with an awkward air. "'Monseigneur,' he asked, "'where am I to enter?' "'By the door. There is none. By the window!'

Starting point is 21:01:50 "'Tis too. small. Make it larger," said Tristan angrily. Have you not pickaxes?" The mother still looked on steadfastly from the depths of her cavern. She no longer hoped for anything. She no longer knew what she wished, except that she did not wish them to take her daughter. Rene Cousanne went in search of the chest of tools for the nightmen, under the shed

Starting point is 21:02:19 of the pillar-house. He drew from it also the double ladder, which he immediately set up against the gallows. Five or six of the provost's men armed themselves with picks and crowbars, and Tristan betook himself and company with them towards the window. "'Old woman,' said the provost in a severe tone, "'deliver up to us the girl quietly.' She looked at him like one who does not understand. "'Tet you!' continued Tristan. Why do you try to prevent this sorceress being hung as it pleases the

Starting point is 21:02:57 king?" The wretched woman began to laugh in her wild way. "'Why, she is my daughter!' The tone in which she pronounced these words made even Henri Cousin shudder. "'I am sorry for that,' said the provost, "'but it is the king's good pleasure.' She cried, redoubling her terrible laugh. "'What is your king to me? I tell you that she is my daughter!' "'Pierce the wall,' said Tristan. In order to make a sufficiently wide opening, it suffice to dislodge one course of stone

Starting point is 21:03:39 below the window. When the mother heard the picks and crowbars mining her fortress, she uttered a terrible cry. Then she began to start. stride about herself with frightful swiftness, a wild beast's habit which her cage had imparted to her. She no longer said anything, but her eyes flamed. The soldiers were chilled to the very soul. All at once she seized her paving stone, laughed, and hurled it with both fists upon the workmen. The stone, badly flung, for her hands trembled, touched no one, and fell short under the feet. of Tristan's horse. She gnashed her teeth. In the meantime, although the sun had not yet risen, it was broad daylight, a beautiful rose color enlivened the ancient decayed chimneys of the pillar

Starting point is 21:04:33 house. It was the hour when the earliest windows of the great city opened joyously on the roofs. Some workmen, a few fruit-sellers on their way to the markets on their asses, began to traverse the greve. They halted for a moment before this group of soldiers clustered round the rat-hole, stared at it with an air of astonishment, and passed on. The recluse had gone and seated herself by her daughter, covering her with her body, in front of her with staring eyes, listening to the poor child who did not stir, but who kept murmuring in a low voice these words only. "'Phibus!

Starting point is 21:05:13 Phoebus. In proportion as the work of the demolisher seemed to advance, the mother mechanically retreated and pressed the young girl closer and closer to the wall. All at once the recluse beheld the stone, for she was standing guard and never took her eyes from it, move, and she heard Tristan's voice encouraging the workers. Then she aroused from the depression into which she had fallen during the last few moments, cried out, and as she spoke, her voice now rent the ear like a saw, then stammered, as though all kind of maledictions were pressing to her lips to burst forth at once.

Starting point is 21:05:53 "'Ho, ho, ho! Why, this is terrible! You are ruffians! Are you really going to take my daughter? Oh, the cowards! Oh, the hangman lackeys! The wretched blackguard assassins! Help! Help! Help! Fire! We! They take my child from me like this? Who is it then who is called the good God?' Then, addressing Tristan, foaming at the mouth, with wild eyes, all bristling and on all fours like a female panther. Draw near, and take my daughter!

Starting point is 21:06:31 Do not you understand that this woman tells you that she is my daughter? Do you know what it is to have a child? A? Links! Have you never lain with your female? Have you never had a cub? And if you have little ones, when they howl, have you nothing in your vitals that moves?" "'Throw down the stone,' said Tristan. It no longer holds." The crowbars raised the heavy course. It was, as we have said, the mother's last

Starting point is 21:07:03 bulwark. She threw herself upon it. She tried to hold it back. She scratched the stone with her nails. but the massive block, set in movement by six men, escaped her and glided gently to the ground along the iron levers. The mother, perceiving an entrance effected, fell down in front of the opening, barricading the breach with her body, beating the pavement with her head, and shrieking with a voice rendered so hoarse by fatigue that it was barely audible. "'Help!

Starting point is 21:07:39 Fire! Fire! Fire! No, take the wench, said Tristan, still impassive. The mother gazed at the soldiers in such formidable fashion that they were more inclined to retreat than to advance. Come now, repeated the provost. Here you, René Cazan.

Starting point is 21:08:01 No one took a step. The provost swore. Tet de Christ, my men of war, afraid of a woman. "'Masinor,' said Renée, "'do you call that a woman?' "'She has the mane of a lion,' said another. "'Come,' repeated the provost. "'The gap is wide enough.

Starting point is 21:08:26 "'Enter three abreast, as at the breach of Pantois. "'Let us make an end of it. "'Death of Mahome. "'I will make two pieces of the first man who draws back.' "'Place between the provost. and the mother, both threatening, the soldiers hesitated for a moment, then took their resolution and advanced towards the rat-hole. When the recluse saw this, she rose abruptly on her knees, flung aside her hair from her face,

Starting point is 21:08:55 then let her thin, flayed hands fall by her side. Then great tears fell, one by one from her eyes. They flowed down her cheeks through a furrow, like a torrent through a a bed which it has hollowed for itself. At the same time she began to speak, but in a voice so supplicating, so gentle, so submissive, so heart-rending, that more than one old convict warder around Tristan, who must have devoured human flesh, wiped his eyes. Monseigneurs, messieurs, the sergeants, one word. There is one thing which I must say to you,

Starting point is 21:09:41 "'She is my daughter, do you see? My dear little daughter, whom I had lost. Listen, it is quite a history. Consider that I knew the sergeants very well. They were always good to me in the days when the little boys threw stones at me, because I led a life of pleasure. Do you see, you will leave me my child when you know. I was a poor woman of the town.'

Starting point is 21:10:09 It was the Bohemians who stole her from me, and I kept her shoe for fifteen years. Stay, here it is. That was the kind of foot which he had. At rhymes, La Chant Fleurie, Ruf all pain, perchance you knew about that. It was I. In your youth then there was a merry time, when one passed good hours. You will take pity on me, will you not, gentlemen? The gypsies stole her from me.

Starting point is 21:10:43 They hid her from me for fifteen years. I thought her dead. Fancy, my good friends, believed her to be dead. I have passed fifteen years here in this cellar, without a fire in winter. It is hard. The poor, dear little shoe. I have cried so much. that the good God has heard me.

Starting point is 21:11:09 This night he has given my daughter back to me. It is a miracle of the good God. She was not dead. You will not take her from me, I am sure. If it were myself, I would say nothing. But she, a child of sixteen. Leave her time to see the sun. What has she done to you?

Starting point is 21:11:34 Nothing at all. Nor have I. If you did but know that she is all I have, that I am old, that she is a blessing which the Holy Virgin has sent to me, and yet you were all so good, you did not know that she was my daughter, but now you do know it. Oh, I love her. Monsieur, the Grand Provost, I would prefer a stab in my own vitals to a scratch on her finger. You have the air of such a good Lord. What have I told you explains the matter, does it not? Oh, if you have had a mother, Monseigneur, you are the captain. Leave me my child. Consider that I pray you on my knees, as one prays to Jesus Christ.

Starting point is 21:12:27 I ask nothing of anyone. I am from rhymes, gentlemen. I own a little field inherited from my uncle, Mahier-Predon. I am no beggar. I wish nothing, but I do want my child. Oh, I want to keep my child. The good God, who is the master, has not given her back to me for nothing. The king, you say the king.

Starting point is 21:12:55 It would not cause him much pleasure to have my little daughter killed. And then the king is good. She is my daughter. She is my own daughter. She belongs not to the king. She is not yours. I want to go away. We want to go away.

Starting point is 21:13:16 And when two women pass, one a mother and the other a daughter, one lets them go. Let us pass. We belong in rhymes. Oh, you are very good, messieurs, the sergeants. I love you all. You will not take my dear little one. It is impossible. It is utterly impossible, is it not? My child, my child. We will not try to give an idea of her gestures, her tone, of the tears which she swallowed as she spoke, of the hands which she clasped and then rung, of the heartbreaking smiles, Of the swimming glances, of the groans, the sighs, the miserable and affecting cries which she mingled with her disordered, wild, and incoherent words. When she became silent, Tristan Lermite frowned, but it was to conceal a tear which welled up

Starting point is 21:14:15 in his tiger's eye. He conquered this weakness, however, and said in a curt tone, "'The king whittles it!' Then he bent down to the ear of René Cuisanne and said to him in a very low tone, "'Make an end of it quickly.' Possibly the redoubtable provost felt his heart also failing him. The executioner and the sergeants entered the cell. The mother offered no resistance, only she dragged herself towards her daughter and threw

Starting point is 21:14:49 herself bodily upon her. The gypsy beheld the soldier's approach. The horror of death reanimated her. "'Mother!' she shrieked, in a tone of indescribable distress. "'Mother, they're coming! Defend me!' "'Yes, my love, I am defending you,' replied the mother in a dying voice, and clasping her closely in her arms she covered her with kisses. The two lying thus on the earth, the mother upon the daughter presented a spectacle worthy of pity. Rene Cousin grasped the young girl by the middle of her body, beneath her beautiful shoulders.

Starting point is 21:15:33 When she felt that hand she cried, Hugh! And fainted. The executioner, who was shedding large tears upon her, drop by drop, was about to bear her away in his arms. He tried to detach the mother, who had, so to speak, knotted her hands around her daughter's waist, but she clung so strongly to her child that it was impossible to separate them. Then René Cousin dragged the young girl outside the cell,

Starting point is 21:16:03 and the mother after her. The mother's eyes were also closed. At that moment the sun rose, and there was already on the place a fairly numerous assembly of people who looked on from a distance at what was being thus dragged along the pavement to the gibbet. For that was Provost Tristan's way at executions. He had a passion for preventing the approach of the curious. There was no one at the windows. Only at a distance, at the summit of that one of the towers of Notre Dame which commands the greve,

Starting point is 21:16:39 two men outlined in black against the light morning sky, who seemed to be looking on, were visible. René Cousin paused at the foot of the fatal ladder, with that which he was dragging and barely breathing. With so much pity did the thing inspire him he passed the rope around the lovely neck of the young girl. The unfortunate child felt the horrible touch of the hemp. She raised her eyelids and saw the fleshless arm of the stone gallows extended above her

Starting point is 21:17:13 head. Then she shook herself and shrieked in a loud and heart-ylus. rending voice. No! No! I will not! Her mother, whose head was buried and concealed in her daughter's garments, said not a word. Only her whole body could be seen to quiver,

Starting point is 21:17:34 and she was heard to redouble her kisses on her child. The executioner took advantage of this moment to hastily loose the arms with which she clasped the condemned girl. Either through exhaustion or disdustion, or despair, she let him have his way. Then he took the young girl on his shoulder, from which the charming creature hung, gracefully bent over his large head. Then he set his foot on the ladder in order to ascend. At that moment the mother, who was crouching on the pavement opened her eyes wide. Without uttering a cry, she raised herself erect with a terrible expression. Then she flung herself

Starting point is 21:18:17 upon the hand of the executioner like a beast on its prey and bit it. It was done like a flash of lightning. The headsman howled with pain. Those nearby rushed up. With difficulty they withdrew his bleeding hand from the mother's teeth. She preserved a profound silence. They thrust her back with much brutality and noticed that her head fell heavily on the pavement. They raised her, she fell back again. She was dead. The executioner, who had not loosed his hold on the young girl, began to ascend the latter once more. End of Book 11, Chapter 1. Book 11 Chapter 2 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 21:19:22 Book 11 Chapter 2. The Beautiful Creature Clad in White When Quasimodo saw that the cell was empty, that the gypsy was no longer there, that while he had been defending her she had been abducted. He grasped his hair with both hands and stamped with surprise and pain. Then he set out to run through the entire church seeking his bohemian, howling strange cries to all the corners of the walls, strewing his red hair on the pavement. It was just at the moment when the king's archers were making their victorious entrance into Notre Dame also in search of the gypsy. Quasimodo, poor, deaf fellow, aided them in their fatal intentions without suspecting it.

Starting point is 21:20:12 He thought that the outcasts were the gypsy's enemies. He himself conducted Tristan Lermitay to all possible hiding places, open to him the secret doors, the double bottoms of the altars, the rear sacristries. If the unfortunate girl had still been there, it would have been he himself who would have delivered her up. When the fatigue of finding nothing had disheartened Tristan, who was not easily discouraged, Quasimodo continued the search alone. He made the tour of the church twenty times, length and breadth, up and down, ascending and descending, running, calling, shouting, peeping, rummaging, ransacking, thrusting his head into every hole,

Starting point is 21:20:57 pushing a torch under every vault, despairing, mad. A male who has lost his female is no more roaring, nor more haggard. At last, when he was sure, perfectly sure that she was no longer there, that all was at an end, that she had been snatched from him, he slowly mounted the staircase to the towers, that staircase which he had ascended with so much eagerness and triumph on the day when he had saved her. He passed those same places once more with drooping head, voiceless, tearless, almost breathless. The church was again deserted, and had fallen back into its silence. The archers had quitted it to track the sorceress in the city. Quasimodo, left alone in that vast Notre dame, so besieged and tumultuous but a short time before, once more betook himself to the cell

Starting point is 21:21:56 where the gypsy had slept for so many weeks under his guardianship. As he approached it, he fancied that he might perhaps find her there. When, at the turn of the gallery which opens on the roof of the side aisles, he perceived the tiny cell with its little window and its little door crouching beneath a great flying buttress, like a bird's nest under a branch. The poor man's heart failed him, and he leaned against a pillar to keep from falling. He imagined that she might have returned thither, that some good genius had no doubt brought her back, that this chamber was too tranquil, too safe, too charming for her not to to be there, and he dared not take another step for fear of destroying his illusion.

Starting point is 21:22:44 "'Yes,' he said to himself, "'perchance she is sleeping or praying. I must not disturb her.' At length he summoned up courage, advanced on tiptoe, looked, entered. Empty. The cell was still empty. The unhappy deaf man walked slowly round it, lifted the bed. and looked beneath it, as though she might be concealed between the pavement and the mattress. Then he shook his head and remained stupefied. All at once he crushed his torch under his foot, and without uttering a word, without giving vent to a sigh, he flung himself at full speed, head foremost, against the wall, and fell fainting on the floor.

Starting point is 21:23:34 When he recovered his senses, he threw himself on the bed and rolled about, He kissed frantically the place where the young girl had slept, and which was still warm. He remained there for several moments, as motionless as though he were about to expire. Then he rose, dripping with perspiration, panting, mad, and began to beat his head against the wall with the frightful regularity of the clapper of his bells, and the resolution of a man determined to kill himself. At length he fell a second time, Exhausted. He dragged himself on his knees outside the cell and crouched down facing the door in an attitude of astonishment. He remained thus for more than an hour without making a movement,

Starting point is 21:24:22 with his eye fixed on the deserted cell, more gloomy and more pensive than a mother seated between an empty cradle and a full coffin. He uttered not a word. Only at long intervals a sob heaved his body violently, but it was a tearless sob, like summer lightning, which makes no noise. It appears to have been then that, seeking at the bottom of his lonely thoughts for the unexpected abductor of the gypsy, he thought of the archdeacon. He remembered that Dom Claude alone possessed a key to the staircase leading to the cell. He recalled his nocturnal attempts on the young girl, in the first of which he, Quisimodo, had a seat. He had a seat. He said, insisted, the second of which he had prevented. He recalled a thousand details, and soon he no

Starting point is 21:25:17 longer doubted that the archdeacon had taken the gypsy. Nevertheless, such was his respect for the priest, such his gratitude, his devotion, his love for this man had taken such deep root in his heart, that they resisted, even at this moment, the talents of jealousy and despair. He reflected that the archdeacon had done this thing, and the wrath of blood and death which it would have evoked in him against any other person turned in the poor deaf man from the moment when Claude Frollo was in question into an increase of grief and sorrow. At the moment when his thought was thus fixed upon the priest, while daybreak was whitening the flying buttresses, he perceived, on the highest story of notary of notary,

Starting point is 21:26:09 Notre Dame, at the angle formed by the external balustrade as it makes the turn of the chancel, a figure walking. This figure was coming towards him. He recognized it. It was the archdeacon. Claude was walking with a slow, grave step. He did not look before him as he walked. He was directing his course towards the northern tower, but his face was turned aside towards

Starting point is 21:26:37 the right bank of the seine. and he held his head high, as though trying to see something over the roofs. The owl often assumes this oblique attitude. It flies towards one point and looks towards another. In this manner the priest passed above Quasimodo without seeing him. The deaf man, who had been petrified by this sudden apparition, beheld him disappear through the door of the staircase to the north tower. The reader is aware that this is,

Starting point is 21:27:09 is the tower from which the Hotel de V is visible. Quasimodo rose and followed the archdeacon. Quasimodo ascended the tower staircase for the sake of ascending it, for the sake of seeing why the priest was ascending it. Moreover, the poor bell-ringer did not know what he, Quasimodo, should do, what he should say, what he wished. He was full of fury and full of fear. The Archdeacon and the Gypsy had come into conflict in his heart.

Starting point is 21:27:44 When he reached the summit of the tower, before emerging from the shadow of the staircase and stepping upon the platform, he cautiously examined the position of the priest. The priest's back was turned to him. There is an open balustrade which surrounds the platform of the bell-tower. The priest, whose eyes looked down upon the town, was resting his breast on the at one of the four sides of the balustrades, which looks upon the Pont Notre Dame. Quasimodo, advancing with the tread of a wolf behind him, went to see what he was gazing at thus. The priest's attention was so absorbed elsewhere that he did not hear the deaf man walking

Starting point is 21:28:28 behind him. Paris is a magnificent and charming spectacle, and especially at that day, viewed from the top of the towers of Notre Dame in the fresh light of a summer dawn. The day might have been in July. The sky was perfectly serene. Some tardy stars were fading away at various points, and there was a very brilliant one in the east, in the brightest part of the heavens. The sun was about to appear. Paris was beginning to move. A very white and very pure light brought out vividly to the eye all the outlines that its thousands of houses present to the east. The giant shadow of the towers leaped from roof to roof, from one end of the great city to the other. There were several quarters from which were already heard voices and noisy sounds.

Starting point is 21:29:26 Here the stroke of a bell, there the stroke of a hammer, beyond the complicated clatter of a cart in motion. Already several columns of smoke were being belched forth from the chimney scattered over the whole surface of roofs, as through the fissures of an immense sulfurous crater. The river, which ruffles its waters against the arches of so many bridges, against the points of so many islands, was wavering with silvery folds. Around the city, outside the ramparts, sight was lost in a great circle of fleecy vapors, through which one confusedly distinguished the indefinite line of the plains, and the graceful swell of the heights.

Starting point is 21:30:11 All sorts of floating sounds were dispersed over this half-awakened city. Towards the east the morning breeze chased a few soft white bits of wool torn from the misty fleece of the hills. In the parvee, some good women, who had their milk jugs in their hands, were pointing out to each other with astonishment, the singular dilapidation of the great door of Notre Dame, and the two solidified streams of lead in the crevices of the stone. This was all that remained of the tempest of the night.

Starting point is 21:30:45 The bonfire lighted between the towers by Quasimodo had died out. Tristan had already cleared up the plas, and had the dead thrown into the seine. Kings, like Louis XI.1, are careful to clean the pavement quickly after a massacre. Outside the balustrade of the tower, directly under the point where the priest had paused, there was one of those fantastically carved stone gutters with which Gothic edifices bristle, and in a crevice of that gutter two pretty wall-flowers and blossom, shaken out and vivified, as it were, by the breath of air, made frolicsome salutations to each other.

Starting point is 21:31:27 Above the towers, on high, far away in the depths of the sky, the cry of the cry of the of little birds were heard. But the priest was not listening to, was not looking at anything of all of this. He was one of the men for whom there were no mornings, no birds, no flowers. In that immense horizon, which assumed so many aspects about him, his contemplation was concentrated on a single point. Quasimodo was burning to ask him what he had done with the gypsy, but the Archdeacon seemed to be out of the world at that moment. He was evidently in one of those violent moments of life when one would not feel the earth crumble.

Starting point is 21:32:10 He remained motionless and silent, with his eyes steadily fixed on a certain point. There was something so terrible about his silence and immobility that the savage bell-ringer shuddered before it and dared not come in contact with it. Only, and this was all, also one way of interrogating the archdeacon, he followed the direction of his vision, and in this way the glance of the unhappy deaf man fell upon the Place de Greve.

Starting point is 21:32:41 Thus he saw what the priest was looking at. The latter was erected near the permanent gallows. There were some people and many soldiers in the place. A man was dragging a white thing from which hung something black along the pavement. This man hauled something black along the pavement. This man at the foot of the gallows. Here something took place which Quasimodo could not see very clearly. It was not because his only eye had not preserved its long range, but there was a group of soldiers which prevented his seeing everything. Moreover, at that moment the sun appeared,

Starting point is 21:33:19 and such a flood of light overflowed the horizon that one would have said that all the points in Paris, spires, chimneys, gables, had simultaneously taken fire. Meanwhile, the man began to mount the ladder. Then Quasimodo saw him again distinctly. He was carrying a woman on his shoulder, a young girl dressed in white. That young girl had a noose about her neck.

Starting point is 21:33:47 Quasimodo recognized her. It was she. The man reached the top of the ladder. There he arranged the noose. Here, the priest, in order to see the better, knelt upon the balustrade. All at once the man kicked away the latter abruptly, and Quasimodo, who had not breathed for several moments, beheld the unhappy child dangling at the end of the rope two fathoms above the pavement, with the man squatting on her shoulders.

Starting point is 21:34:20 The rope made several gyrations on itself, and Quasimodo beheld horrible convulsions run along the gypsy's body. The priest, on his side, with outstretched neck and eyes starting from his head, contemplated this horrible group of the man and the young girl, the spider and the fly. At the moment when it was most horrible, the laugh of a demon, a laugh which one could only give vent to when one is no longer human, burst forth on the priest's livid face. Quasimodo did not hear that laugh, but he saw it. The bell-ringer retreated several paces behind the archdeacon, and suddenly hurling himself upon him with fury, with his huge hands he pushed him by the back over into the abyss, over which Dom Claude was leaning. The priest shrieked,

Starting point is 21:35:16 Damnation! and fell. The spout, above which he had stood, arrested him in his fall. He clung to it with desperate hands. hands, and at the moment when he opened his mouth to utter a second cry, he beheld the formidable and avenging face of Quasimodo thrust over the edge of the balustrade above his head. Then he was silent. The abyss was there below him, a fall of more than two hundred feet and the pavement. In this terrible situation the archdeacon said not a word, uttered not a groan. He merely ried upon the spout, with incredible efforts to climb up again, but his hands had

Starting point is 21:36:00 no hold on the granite. His feet slid along the blackened wall without catching fast. People who have ascended the towers of Notre Dame know that there is a swell of the stone immediately beneath the balustrade. It was on this retreating angle that miserable archdeacon exhausted himself. He had not to deal with a perpendicular wall, but with one which sloped away beneath him. Quasimodo had but to stretch out his hand in order to draw him from the gulf, but he did not even look at him. He was looking at the greve. He was looking at the

Starting point is 21:36:37 gallows. He was looking at the gypsy. The deaf man was leaning, with his elbows on the balustrade, at the spot where the archdeacon had been a moment before, and there, never detaching his gaze from the only object which existed for him in the world at that moment. He remained motionless and mute, like a man struck by lightning, and a long stream of tears flowed in silence, from that eye which up to that time had never shed but one tear. Meanwhile the archdeacon was panting. His bald bra was dripping with perspiration. His nails were bleeding against the stones. His knees were flayed by the wall. He heard his cassock, which was caught on the spout, crack and rip at every jerk that he gave it. To complete his misfortune, this spout ended in a leaden

Starting point is 21:37:34 pipe which bent under the weight of his body. The archdeacon felt this pipe slowly giving away. The miserable man said to himself that, when his hand should be worn out with fatigue, when his cassock should tear asunder, when the lead should give way, he would be be obliged to fall, and terror seized upon his very vitals. Now and then he glanced wildly at a sort of narrow shelf, formed ten feet lower down, by projections of the sculpture, and he prayed heaven, from the depths of his distressed soul, that he might be allowed to finish his life, were it to last two centuries on that space two feet square. Once he glanced below him into the place, into the place, into the

Starting point is 21:38:21 abyss. The head which he raised again had its eyes closed and its hair standing erect. There was something frightful in the silence of these two men. While the archdeacon agonized in this terrible fashion a few feet below him, Quasimodo wept and gazed at the grieve. The archdeacon, seeing that all his exertion served only to weaken the fragile support which remained to him, decided to remain quiet. There he hung. embracing the gutter, hardly breathing, no longer stirring, making no longer any other movements than that mechanical convulsion of the stomach, which one experiences in dreams when one fancies himself falling. His fixed eyes were wide open with a stare. He lost ground, little by little.

Starting point is 21:39:14 Nevertheless, his fingers slipped along the spout. He became more and more conscious of the feebleness of his arms and the weight of his body. The curve of lead which sustained him inclined more and more each instant towards the abyss. He beheld below him, a frightful thing, the roof of St. Jean-Laurent, as small as a card folded in two. He gazed at the impressive carvings, one by one, of the tower, suspended like himself over the precipice, but without terror for themselves or pity for for him. All was stone around him, before his eyes, gaping monsters, below, quite at the bottom, in the place, the pavement, above his head, Quasimodo, weeping. In the Parvee, there were several groups of curious good people, who were tranquilly seeking to divine who the madman

Starting point is 21:40:14 could be, who was amusing himself in so strange a manner. The priest heard them saying, for their voices reached him, clear and shrill. Why, he will break his neck! Quasimodo wept. At last, the archdeacon, foaming with rage and despair, understood that all was in vain. Nevertheless, he collected all the strength which remained to him for a final effort. He stiffened himself upon the spout, pushed against the wall with both his knees, clung to a crevice in the stones with his hands, and succeeded in climbing back with one foot, perhaps. But this effort made the leaden beak on which he rested bend abruptly. His cassock burst open at the same time. Then, feeling everything give way beneath him, with nothing but his stiffened and failing hands to support

Starting point is 21:41:10 him, the unfortunate man closed his eyes and let go of the spout. He fell. Quasimodo watched him. fall. A fall from such a height is seldom perpendicular. The Archdeacon, launched into space, fell at first head foremost, without spread hands. Then he whirled over and over many times. The wind blew him upon the roof of a house, where the unfortunate man began to break up. Nevertheless, he was not dead when he reached there. The bell-ringer saw him still endeavor to cling to a gable with his nails, but the surface sloped too much, and he had no more strength. He slid rapidly along the roof like a loosened tile, and dashed upon the pavement. There he no longer moved. Then Quasimodo raised his eyes to the gypsy, whose body he beheld

Starting point is 21:42:09 hanging from the gibbet, quivering far away beneath her white robe with the last shudderings of anguish. Then he dropped them on the archdeacon, stretched out at the base of the tower and no longer retaining the human form, and he said, with a sob which heaved his deep chest, "'Oh, all that I have ever loved!' End of Book 11, Chapter 2. Book 11 Chapter 3 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Book 11 Chapter 3 The Marriage of Phoebus Towards evening on that day, when the judiciary officers of the bishop came to pick up from the pavement of the parvee, the dislocated corpse of the archdeacon, Quasimodo, had disappeared.

Starting point is 21:43:12 A great many rumors were in circulation with regard to this adventure. No one doubted but that the day had come when, in accordance with their compact, Quasimodo, that is to say the devil, was to carry off Claude Frollo, that is to say, the sorcerer. It was presumed that he had broken the body when taking the soul, like monkeys who break the shell to get at the nut. This is why the archdeacon was not interred in consecrated earth. Louis X.E. 11th died a year later in the month of August, 1483. As for Pierre Gringua, he succeeded in saving the goat, and he won success in tragedy. It appears that, after having tasted astrology, philosophy, architecture, hermetics, all vanities, he returned to tragedy, the vainest pursuit of all. This is what he called, coming to a tragic end.

Starting point is 21:44:15 This is what is to be read on the subject of his dramatic triumphs in 1483 in the accounts of the ordinary. To Jahan Marchant and Pierre Gringua, carpenter and composer, who have made and composed the mystery made at the Chatelle of Paris at the entry of Monsieur de Legate, and have ordered the personages, clothed and dressed the same, as in the said mystery was required, and likewise, for having made the scaffoldings thereto necessary, and for this deed, one hundred livres. Fibas to Chatepe also came to a tragic end. He married. End of Book 11, Chapter 3.

Starting point is 21:45:06 Book 11, Chapter 4 of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Book 11, Chapter 4. The Marriage of Quasimodo. We have just said that Quasimodo disappeared from Notre Dame on the day of the gypsies and of the Archdeacon's death. He was not seen again, in fact, no one knew what had become of him. During the night which followed the execution of La Esmerelda, the nightmen had detached her body from the gibbet, and had carried it, according to custom,

Starting point is 21:45:44 to the cellar of Montfosson. Montfosson was, as Soval says, the most ancient and the most superb gibbet in the kingdom. Between the faubourgues of the temple and Saint-Martin, about a hundred and sixty tuace from the walls of Paris, a few bowshots from La Courteau there was to be seen on the crest of a gentle, almost imperceptible eminence, but sufficiently elevated to be seen for several leagues round about, an edifice of strange form, bearing considerable resemblance to a Celtic Cromleck, and from where also human sacrifices were offered. Let the reader picture to himself, crowning a limestone hillock, an oblong mass of masonry, fifteen feet in height, thirty wide, forty long,

Starting point is 21:46:34 with a gate, an external railing, and a platform. On this platform, sixteen enormous pillars of rough-hewn stone, thirty feet in height, arranged in a colonnade round three of the four sides of the mass which support them. Bound together at their summits by heavy beams, Whence hung chains at intervals. On all these chains, skeletons. In the vicinity, on the plain,

Starting point is 21:47:02 a stone cross and two gibbets of secondary importance, which seemed to have sprung up as shoots around the central gallows. Above all this, in the sky, a perpetual flock of crows. That was Montfesson. At the end of the 15th century, the formidable gibbet which dated from 1328, was already very much dilapidated. The beams were worm-eaten, the chains rusted, the pillars green with mold. The layers of hewn stone were all cracked at their joints, and grass was growing on that

Starting point is 21:47:39 platform which no feet touched. The monument made a horrible profile against the sky, especially at night when there was a little moonlight on those white skulls, or when the breeze of evening brushed the chains and the skeletons, and swayed all these in the darkness. The presence of this gibbet suffice to render gloomy all the surrounding places. The mass of masonry which served as foundation to the odious edifice was hollow. A huge cellar had been constructed there, closed by an old iron grating, which was out of order, into which were cast not only the human remains, which were taken from the chains of Montfosson, but also the bodies of all the unfortunates executed on the

Starting point is 21:48:28 other permanent gibbets of Paris. To that deep charnel-house, where so many human remains and so many crimes have rotted in company, many great ones of this world, many innocent people, have contributed their bones. From Engerrand de Marais, the first victim, and a just man, to Admiral de Khodini, who was its last, and who was also a just man. As for the mysterious disappearance of Quasimodo, this is all that we have been able to discover. About eighteen months or two years after the events which terminate this story, when search was made in that cavern for the body of Olivier Le Dam, who had been hanged two days previous

Starting point is 21:49:16 and to whom Charles VIII had granted the favor of being buried in St. Laurent in better company, they found among all those hideous carcasses two skeletons, one of which held the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a few strips of a garment which had once been white, and around her neck was to be seen a string of a Drazorak beads with a little silk bag ornamented, with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the executioner had probably not cared for them. The other, which held this one in a close embrace, was the skeleton of a man. It was noticed that his spinal column was crooked, his head seated on his shoulder blades,

Starting point is 21:50:09 and that one leg was shorter than the other. Moreover, there was no fracture of the vertebrae at the nape of the neck. and it was evident that he had not been hanged. Hence, the man to whom it had belonged had come thither and had died there. When they tried to detach the skeleton which he held in his embrace, he fell to dust. The end of the hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo.

Classic Audiobook Collection - The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

There aren't comments yet for this episode. Click on any sentence in the transcript to leave a comment.