the hunchback of notre dame-第73章

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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　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　enraged　tigress；　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。

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　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　gestures　of　wrath　and　reproach；　made　the　latter　a　violent　sign　to　retire。

The　deaf　man　dropped　his　head；　then　he　came　and　knelt　at　the　gypsy's　door；〃Monseigneur；〃　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　be；　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。

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。

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。〃





BOOK　TENTH。






CHAPTER　I。

GRINGOIRE　HAS　MANY　GOOD　IDEAS　IN　SUCCESSION。RUE　DES　BERNARDINS。



As　soon　as　Pierre　Gringoire　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。　　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　Charmolue　and　Torterue；　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　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…le…　Rouge；　Bishop　of　Noyon　and　Tournay；　_De　Cupa　Petrarum_；　which　had　given　him　a　violent　passion　for　architecture；　an　inclination　which　had　replaced　in　his　heart　his　passion　for　hermeticism；　of　which　it　was；　moreover；　only　a　natural　corollary；　since　there　is　an　intimate　relation　between　hermeticism　and　masonry。　　Gringoire　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…l'Auxerrois；　at　the　corner　of　a　mansion　called　〃For…l'Evêque　〃　（the　Bishop's　Tribunal）；　which　stood　opposite　another　called　〃For…le…Roi〃　（the　King's　Tribunal）。　　At　this　For…l'Evêque；　there　was　a　charming　chapel　of　the　fourteenth　century；　whose　apse　was　on　the　street。　　Gringoire　was　devoutly　examining　its　exterior　sculptures。　　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；　a　meeting　with　whom　always　upsets　the　equilibrium　of　a　sceptical　philosopher。

The　archdeacon　maintained　silence　for　several　minutes；　during　which　Gringoire　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？〃

〃My　health？〃　replied　Gringoire。　　〃Eh！　eh！　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　Hippocrates；　~id　est：　cibi；　potus；　somni；　venus；　omnia　moderata　sint~。〃

〃So　you　have　no　care；　Master　Pierre？〃　resumed　the　archdeacon；　gazing　intently　at　Gringoire。

〃None；　i'　faith！〃

〃And　what　are　you　doing　now？〃

〃You　see；　master。　　I　am　examining　the　chiselling　of　these　stones；　and　the　manner　in　which　yonder　bas…relief　is　thrown　out。〃

The　priest　began　to　smile　with　that　bitter　smile　which　raises　only　one　corner　of　the　mouth。

〃And　that　amuses　you？〃

〃'Tis　paradise！〃　exclaimed　Gringoire。　　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　bas…relief　is　executed　with　much　adroitness；　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　Maillevin。　　They　are　not　the　finest　works　of　this　great　master。　Nevertheless；　the　naivete；　the　sweetness　of　the　faces；　the　gayety　of　the　attitudes　and　draperies；　and　that　inexplicable　charm　which　is　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。　　〃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；

〃You　are　happy；　then？〃

Gringoire　replied　warmly；

〃On　my　honor；　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　Gringoire；　〃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　For…l'Evêque。　　〃Here　is　a　staircase！　every　time　that　I　see　it　I　am　happy。　　It　is　of　the　simplest　and　rarest　manner　of　steps　in　Paris。　　All　the　steps　are　bevelled　underneath。　　Its　beauty　and　simplicity　consist　in　the　interspacing　of　both；　being　a　foot　or　more　wide；　which　are　interlaced；　interlocked；　fitted　together；　enchained　enchased；　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　nothing？〃

〃Neither　regret　nor　desire。　　I　have　arranged　my　mode　of　life。〃

〃What　men　arrange；〃　said　Claude；　〃things　disarrange。〃

〃I　am　a　Pyrrhonian　philosopher；〃　replied　Gringoire；　〃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　Gringoire。　　〃When　one　has　an　idea；　one　encounters　it　in　everything。〃

〃I　know　that；〃　replied　the　archdeacon。

After　a　silence；　the　priest　resumed；

〃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　Gringoire；　to　the　archdeacon。

〃Because　I　think　I　recognize　him。〃

〃What　do　you　call　him？〃

〃I　think；〃　said　Claude；　〃that　his　name　is　Phoebus　de　Chateaupers。〃

〃Phoebus！　　A　curious　name！　　There　is　also　a　Phoebus；　Comte　de　Foix。　　I　remember　having　known　a　wench　who　swore　only　by　the　name　of　Phoebus。〃

〃Come　away　from　here；〃　said　the　priest。　　〃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。　　Gringoire　followed　him；　being　accustomed　to　obey　him；　like　all　who　had　once　approached　that　man　so　full　of　ascendency。　　They　reached　in　silence　the　Rue　des　Bernardins；　which　was　nearly　deserted。　　Here　Dom　Claude　paused。

〃What　have　you　to　say　to　me；　master？〃　Gringoire　asked　him。

〃Do　you　not　think　that　the　dress　of　those　cavaliers　whom　we　have　just　seen　is　far　handsomer　than　yours　and　mine？〃

Gringoire　tossed　his　head。

〃I'　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　Quay　of　Old　Iron；　in　an　earthquake！〃

〃So；　Gringoire；　you　have　never　cherished　envy　for　those　handsome　fellows　in　their　military　doublets？〃

〃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　tai