ESMERALDA.
We are to be able to the reader, that the whole of this scene, Gringoire and his piece had firm. His actors, on by him, had not to his comedy, and he had not to to it. He had up his mind about the tumult, and was to to the end, not up the of a return of attention on the part of the public. This of fresh life, when he saw Quasimodo, Coppenole, and the of the of the of the great uproar. The after them. “Good,” he said to himself, “there go all the mischief-makers.” Unfortunately, all the mischief-makers the entire audience. In the of an eye, the was empty.
To tell the truth, a still remained, some scattered, others in groups around the pillars, women, old men, or children, who had had of the and tumult. Some were still of the window-sills, in into the Place.
“Well,” Gringoire, “here are still as many as are to the end of my mystery. They are in number, but it is a choice audience, a audience.”
An later, a which had been to produce the on the of the Virgin, was lacking. Gringoire that his music had been off by the of the Pope of the Fools. “Skip it,” said he, stoically.
He approached a group of bourgeois, who to him to be his piece. This is the of which he caught,—
“You know, Master Cheneteau, the Hôtel de Navarre, which to Monsieur de Nemours?”
“Yes, opposite the Chapelle de Braque.”
“Well, the has just let it to Guillaume Alixandre, historian, for six livres, eight sols, parisian, a year.”
“How rents are going up!”
“Come,” said Gringoire to himself, with a sigh, “the others are listening.”
“Comrades,” one of the from the window, “La Esmeralda! La Esmeralda in the Place!”
This word produced a effect. Every one who was left in the to the windows, the in order to see, and repeating, “La Esmeralda! La Esmeralda?” At the same time, a great of was from without.
“What’s the meaning of this, of the Esmeralda?” said Gringoire, his hands in despair. “Ah, good heavens! it to be the turn of the now.”
He returned the marble table, and saw that the had been interrupted. It was at the when Jupiter should have appeared with his thunder. But Jupiter was at the of the stage.
“Michel Giborne!” the poet, “what are you doing there? Is that your part? Come up!”
“Alas!” said Jupiter, “a has just the ladder.”
Gringoire looked. It was but too true. All his plot and its was intercepted.
“The rascal,” he murmured. “And why did he take that ladder?”
“In order to go and see the Esmeralda,” Jupiter piteously. “He said, ‘Come, here’s a that’s of no use!’ and he took it.”
This was the last blow. Gringoire it with resignation.
“May the away with you!” he said to the comedian, “and if I my pay, you shall yours.”
Then he a retreat, with head, but the last in the field, like a who has well.
And as he the stairs of the courts: “A of and these Parisians!” he his teeth; “they come to a and don’t to it at all! They are by every one, by Clopin Trouillefou, by the cardinal, by Coppenole, by Quasimodo, by the devil! but by Madame the Virgin Mary, not at all. If I had known, I’d have you Virgin Mary; you ninnies! And I! to come to see and only backs! to be a poet, and to the success of an apothecary! It is true that Homerus through the Greek towns, and that Naso died in among the Muscovites. But may the me if I what they with their Esmeralda! What is that word, in the place?—’tis Egyptian!”
BOOK SECOND.
