LONG LIVE MIRTH.
The reader has not that a part of the Cour de Miracles was by the which the city, a number of towers had begun, at that epoch, to to ruin. One of these towers had been into a by the vagabonds. There was a dram-shop in the story, and the in the upper stories. This was the most lively, and the most hideous, point of the whole den. It was a of hive, which there night and day. At night, when the of the slept, when there was no longer a window in the façades of the Place, when not a was any longer to be from those families, those ant-hills of thieves, of wenches, and or children, the tower was still by the noise which it made, by the light which, from the air-holes, the windows, the in the walls, escaped, so to speak, from its every pore.
The then, was the dram-shop. The to it was through a low door and by a as as a Alexandrine. Over the door, by way of a there a daub, new and chickens,[53] with this, below: Aux trépassés,—The for the dead.
One when the was from all the in Paris, the of the watch might have observed, had it been to them to enter the Court of Miracles, that more than was in progress in the vagabonds’ tavern, that more was being done, and louder swearing. Outside in the Place, there, were many groups in low tones, as when some great plan is being framed, and here and there a in a iron on a paving-stone.
Meanwhile, in the itself, and offered such a powerful to the ideas which the vagabonds’ that evening, that it would have been difficult to from the of the drinkers, what was the in hand. They a air than was their wont, and some be the of each of them,—a sickle, an axe, a big two-edged or the of an old hackbut.
The room, in form, was very spacious; but the tables were so set and the so numerous, that all that the contained, men, women, benches, beer-jugs, all that were drinking, all that were sleeping, all that were playing, the well, the lame, up pell-mell, with as much order and as a of shells. There were a on the tables; but the of this tavern, that which played the part in this dram-shop of the of an house, was the fire. This was so that the fire was allowed to go out, in midsummer; an with a mantel, all with iron and cooking utensils, with one of those of mixed and which at night, in village make the of out so red on the opposite walls. A big dog seated in the was a with meat the coals.
Great as was the confusion, after the one in that multitude, three groups which around three already to the reader. One of these personages, in many an rag, was Mathias Hungadi Spicali, Duke of Egypt and Bohemia. The was seated on a table with his crossed, and in a loud voice was his knowledge of magic, black and white, on many a which him. Another pressed close around our old friend, the King of Thunes, to the teeth. Clopin Trouillefou, with a very air and in a low voice, was the of an of arms, which wide open in of him and from out in profusion, axes, swords, bassinets, of mail, broadswords, lance-heads, arrows, and viretons,[54] like and from a of plenty. Every one took something from the cask, one a morion, another a long, sword, another a with a cross-shaped hilt. The very children were themselves, and there were in who, in and cuirass, their way the of the drinkers, like great beetles.
Finally, a third audience, the most noisy, the most jovial, and the most numerous, benches and tables, in the of which and a flute-like voice, which from a armor, complete from to spurs. The who had thus a whole upon his body, was so by his that nothing was to be of his person save an impertinent, red, nose, a mouth, and eyes. His was full of and poniards, a on his hip, a cross-bow at his left, and a of in of him, without on his right, a with her uncovered. All mouths around him were laughing, cursing, and drinking.
Add twenty secondary groups, the waiters, male and female, with on their heads, over taws, merelles,[55] dice, vachettes, the game of tringlet, in one corner, in another, and the reader will have some idea of this whole picture, over which the light of a great, fire, which a thousand and over the of the shop.
As for the noise, it was like the of a at full peal.
The dripping-pan, where a rain of grease, with its the of these thousand dialogues, which from one end of the to the other.
In the of this uproar, at the of the tavern, on the bench the chimney, sat a with his in the and his on the brands. It was Pierre Gringoire.
“Be quick! make haste, arm yourselves! we set out on the in an hour!” said Clopin Trouillefou to his thieves.
A was humming,—
“Bonsoir père et ma mère,
Les le feu.”[56]
Two card players were disputing,—
“Knave!” the of the two, his at the other; “I’ll mark you with the club. You can take the place of Mistigri in the pack of cards of the king.”
“Ugh!” a Norman, by his accent; “we are packed in here like the of Caillouville!”
“My sons,” the Duke of Egypt was saying to his audience, in a voice, “sorceresses in France go to the witches’ without broomsticks, or grease, or steed, by means of some magic words. The of Italy always have a waiting for them at their door. All are to go out through the chimney.”
The voice of the from to foot, the uproar.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” he was shouting. “My day in armor! Outcast! I am an outcast. Give me something to drink. My friends, my name is Jehan Frollo du Moulin, and I am a gentleman. My opinion is that if God were a gendarme, he would turn robber. Brothers, we are about to set out on a expedition. Lay to the church, in the doors, out the girl, save her from the judges, save her from the priests, the cloister, the in his palace—all this we will do in less time than it takes for a to eat a of soup. Our is just, we will Notre-Dame and that will be the end of it. We will Quasimodo. Do you know Quasimodo, ladies? Have you him make himself on the big on a Pentecost festival! Corne du Père! ’tis very fine! One would say he was a on a man. Listen to me, my friends; I am a to the of my heart, I am a of the in my soul, I was an thief. I have been rich, and I have all my property. My mother wanted to make an officer of me; my father, a sub-deacon; my aunt, a of inquests; my grandmother, to the king; my great aunt, a of the robe,—and I have myself an outcast. I said this to my father, who his in my face; to my mother, who set to and chattering, old lady, like on the and-irons. Long live mirth! I am a Bicêtre. Waitress, my dear, more wine. I have still the to pay. I want no more Surène wine. It my throat. I’d as lief, corbœuf! my with a basket.”
Meanwhile, the with of laughter; and that the was around him, the cried,—.
“Oh! what a noise! Populi debacchatio!” Then he to sing, his in ecstasy, in the of a vespers, Quæ cantica! quæ organa! quæ cantilenæ! quæ melodiæ decantantur! Sonant organa, melodia, mira! He off: “Tavern-keeper of the devil, give me some supper!”
There was a moment of silence, which the voice of the Duke of Egypt rose, as he gave to his Bohemians.
“The is called Adrune; the fox, Blue-foot, or the Racer of the Woods; the wolf, Gray-foot, or Gold-foot; the the Old Man, or Grandfather. The cap of a invisibility, and one to things. Every that is must be in red or black velvet, a on its neck, a on its feet. The its head, the its parts. ’Tis the Sidragasum who the power to make naked.”
“By the mass!” Jehan, “I should like to be the Sidragasum.”
Meanwhile, the to arm themselves and at the other end of the dram-shop.
“That Esmeralda!” said a Bohemian. “She is our sister. She must be taken away from there.”
“Is she still at Notre-Dame?” on a merchant with the of a Jew.
“Yes, pardieu!”
“Well! comrades!” the merchant, “to Notre-Dame! So much the better, since there are in the of Saints Féréol and Ferrution two statues, the one of John the Baptist, the other of Saint-Antoine, of solid gold, together seven marks of gold and fifteen estellins; and the are of silver-gilt, of seventeen marks, five ounces. I know that; I am a goldsmith.”
Here they Jehan with his supper. As he himself on the of the him, he exclaimed,—
“By Saint Voult-de-Lucques, people call Saint Goguelu, I am perfectly happy. I have me a who at me with the of an archduke. Here is one on my left teeth are so long that they his chin. And then, I am like the Marshal de Gié at the of Pontoise, I have my right on a hillock. Ventre-Mahom! Comrade! you have the air of a merchant of tennis-balls; and you come and me! I am a nobleman, my friend! Trade is with nobility. Get out of that! Holà hé! You others, don’t fight! What, Baptiste Croque-Oison, you who have such a nose are going to it against the big of that lout! Fool! Non nasum—not every one is with a nose. You are divine, Jacqueline Ronge-Oreille! ’tis a that you have no hair! Holà! my name is Jehan Frollo, and my is an archdeacon. May the off with him! All that I tell you is the truth. In vagabond, I have the of a house in paradise, which my had promised me. Dimidiam in paradiso. I the text. I have a in the Rue Tirechappe, and all the are in love with me, as true as Saint Éloy was an excellent goldsmith, and that the five of the good city of Paris are the tanners, the tawers, the makers of cross-belts, the purse-makers, and the sweaters, and that Saint Laurent was with eggshells. I to you, comrades.
“Que je ne de piment,
Devant un an, si je cy ment![57]
“’Tis moonlight, my charmer; see through the window how the wind is the clouds to tatters! Even thus will I do to your gorget.—Wenches, the children’s and the candles.—Christ and Mahom! What am I here, Jupiter? Ohé! innkeeper! the which is not on the of your one in your omelettes. Old woman! I like omelettes. May the you!—A of Beelzebub, where the their with the forks!
“Et je n’ai moi,
Par la sang-Dieu!
Ni foi, ni loi,
Ni feu, ni lieu,
Ni roi,
Ni Dieu.”[58]
In the meantime, Clopin Trouillefou had the of arms. He approached Gringoire, who appeared to be in a revery, with his on an andiron.
“Friend Pierre,” said the King of Thunes, “what the are you about?”
Gringoire to him with a smile.
“I love the fire, my dear lord. Not for the that fire the or cooks our soup, but it has sparks. Sometimes I pass whole hours in the sparks. I a thousand in those which are over the black of the hearth. Those are also worlds.”
“Thunder, if I you!” said the outcast. “Do you know what o’clock it is?”
“I do not know,” Gringoire.
Clopin approached the Duke of Egypt.
“Comrade Mathias, the time we have is not a good one. King Louis XI. is said to be in Paris.”
“Another for our sister from his claws,” the old Bohemian.
“You speak like a man, Mathias,” said the King of Thunes. “Moreover, we will act promptly. No is to be in the church. The are hares, and we are in force. The people of the will be well to-morrow when they come to her! Guts of the I don’t want them to the girl!”
Clopin the dram-shop.
Meanwhile, Jehan was in a voice:
“I eat, I drink, I am drunk, I am Jupiter! Eh! Pierre, the Slaughterer, if you look at me like that again, I’ll the off your nose for you.”
Gringoire, from his meditations, to watch the wild and noisy which him, his teeth: “Luxuriosa et ebrietas. Alas! what good I have not to drink, and how spoke Saint-Benoît: ‘Vinum sapientes!’”
At that moment, Clopin returned and in a voice of thunder: “Midnight!”
At this word, which produced the of the call to and on a at a halt, all the outcasts, men, women, children, in a from the tavern, with great noise of arms and old iron implements.
The moon was obscured.
The Cour Miracles was dark. There was not a single light. One make out there a of men and in low tones. They be buzzing, and a of all of was visible in the darkness. Clopin a large stone.
“To your ranks, Argot!”[59] he cried. “Fall into line, Egypt! Form ranks, Galilee!”
A movement in the darkness. The appeared to in a column. After a minutes, the King of Thunes his voice once more,—
“Now, to through Paris! The is, ‘Little in pocket!’ The will not be till we Notre-Dame! Forward, march!”
Ten minutes later, the of the watch in terror a long of black and men which was the Pont au Change, through the which the close-built neighborhood of the markets in every direction.
