the hunchback of notre dame-第88章

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n　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。　　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　blocks　rot　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　Dame　Tax　and　Monsieur　Gibbet。　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　the　City　and　the　stem　of　the　island　of　Notre…Dame；　which　we　call　to…day　the　Isle　St。　Louis。

〃By　the　way；　master！〃　continued　Gringoire　suddenly。　〃At　the　moment　when　we　arrived　on　the　Parvis；　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　I　could　not　recognize　him。　　Do　you　know　who　he　could　be？〃

The　stranger　answered　not　a　word。　　But　he　suddenly　ceased　rowing；　his　arms　fell　as　though　broken；　his　head　sank　on　his　breast；　and　la　Esmeralda　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　Port　an　Foin。

〃Ah！〃　said　Gringoire；　〃yonder　is　the　Barbeau　mansion。Stay；　master；　look：　that　group　of　black　roofs　which　make　such　singular　angles　yonder；　above　that　heap　of　black；　fibrous　grimy；　dirty　clouds；　where　the　moon　is　completely　crushed　and　spread　out　like　the　yolk　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；　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　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。　　Pain　is　always　by　the　side　of　joy；　the　spondee　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。　　Fornication　is　a　very　libertine　thought。　Adultery　is　a　prying　into　the　pleasures　of　othersOhé！　　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；　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。　　He　clasped　the　goat　in　his　arms；　and　gently　drew　away　from　the　gypsy；　who　pressed　closer　and　closer　to　him；　as　though　to　the　only　asylum　which　remained　to　her。

It　is　certain　that　Gringoire　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　Djali！　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；　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　Gringoire；　who；　in　his　turn；　absorbed　in　the　goat；　almost　repulsed　her。　　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　Gringoire　had　taken　advantage　of　the　moment　of　debarcation　to　slip　away　with　the　goat　into　the　block　of　houses　of　the　Rue　Grenier…sur…l'Eau。

The　poor　gypsy　shivered　when　she　beheld　herself　alone　with　this　man。　　She　tried　to　speak；　to　cry　out；　to　call　Gringoire；　her　tongue　was　dumb　in　her　mouth；　and　no　sound　left　her　lips。　　All　at　once　she　felt　the　stranger's　hand　on　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　Place　de　Grève；　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。　　At　this　spot　the　quay　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　quay　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　Seine；　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　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　quay　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　their　flight；　〃Who　are　you？　　Who　are　you？〃　He　made　no　reply。

They　arrived　thus；　still　keeping　along　the　quay；　at　a　tolerably　spacious　square。　　It　was　the　Grève。　　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。　　He　looked　like　the　ghost　of　himself；　that　is　an　effect　of　the　moonlight；　it　seems　as　though　one　beheld　only　the　spectres　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。　　I　am　going　to　speak　to　you。　　This　is　the　Grève。　　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。　　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　centre　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。　　Listen　to　me。　　It　is　a　serious　matter。　　In　the　first　place；　here　is　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。　　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　Grève；　was　full　of　clamors　and　light；　and　soldiers　could　be　seen　running　on　the　opposite　quay　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。　　I　love　you。Do　not　open　your　mouth；　refrain　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　two；〃　he　said；　coldly。

She　tore　herself　from　his　hands　and　fell　at　the　foot　of　the　gibbet；　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。〃

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　haug