the hunchback of notre dame-第21章

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；　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　mana　purse）。　　In　short；　on　examining　the　orgy　more　closely；　and　with　more　coolness；　he　fell　from　the　witches'　sabbath　to　the　dram…shop。

The　Cour　des　Miracles　was；　in　fact；　merely　a　dram…shop；　but　a　brigand's　dram…shop；　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　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　fifteenth　century；　we　would　say　that　Gringoire　had　descended　from　Michael　Angelo　to　Callot。

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　wormeaten　tables　were　placed；　here　and　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　round　these　pots　were　grouped　many　bacchic　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；　thickset　and　brawny。　　There　was　a　sort　of　sham　soldier；　a　〃naquois；〃　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。　　On　the　other　hand；　there　was　a　wretched　fellow；　preparing　with　celandine　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　practising　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　was　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　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　Sauval　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；〃　adds　an　eye　witness　of　1653；　〃have　the　sudden　metamorphoses　of　the　Court　of　Miracles　been　more　happily　presented。　Benserade　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　quarrels　sprang　up　at　the　shock　of　the　pots；　and　the　broken　pots　made　rents　in　the　rags。

A　big　dog；　seated　on　his　tail；　gazed　at　the　fire。　　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；　and　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　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　Gringoire　in　their　clutches　led　him　in　front　of　this　hogshead；　and　the　entire　bacchanal　rout　fell　silent　for　a　moment；　with　the　exception　of　the　cauldron　inhabited　by　the　child。

Gringoire　dared　neither　breathe　nor　raise　his　eyes。

〃~Hombre；　quita　tu　sombrero~！〃　said　one　of　the　three　knaves；　in　whose　grasp　he　was；　and；　before　he　had　comprehended　the　meaning；　the　other　had　snatched　his　hata　wretched　headgear；　it　is　true；　but　still　good　on　a　sunny　day　or　when　there　was　but　little　rain。　　Gringoire　sighed。

Meanwhile　the　king　addressed　him；　from　the　summit　of　his　cask；

〃Who　is　this　rogue？〃

Gringoire　shuddered。　　That　voice；　although　accentuated　by　menace；　recalled　to　him　another　voice；　which；　that　very　morning；　had　dealt　the　deathblow　to　his　mystery；　by　drawling；　nasally；　in　the　midst　of　the　audience；　〃Charity；　please！〃　He　raised　his　head。　　It　was　indeed　Clopin　Trouillefou。

Clopin　Trouillefou；　arrayed　in　his　royal　insignia；　wore　neither　one　rag　more　nor　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　~boullayes~。　　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　Gringoire；　without　knowing　why；　had　regained　some　hope；　on　recognizing　in　the　King　of　the　Cour　des　Miracles　his　accursed　mendicant　of　the　Grand　Hall。

〃Master；〃　stammered　he；　〃monseigneursirehow　ought　I　to　address　you？〃　he　said　at　length；　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　defence？〃

〃In　your　own　defence？〃　thought　Gringoire；　〃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：　myself；　Clopin　Trouillefou；　King　of　Thunes；　successor　to　the　Grand　Co？sre；　supreme　suzerain　of　the　Realm　of　Argot；　Mathias　Hunyadi　Spicali；　Duke　of　Egypt　and　of　Bohemia；　the　old　yellow　fellow　whom　you　see　yonder；　with　a　dish　clout　round　his　head；　Guillaume　Rousseau；　Emperor　of　Galilee；　that　fat　fellow　who　is　not　listening　to　us　but　caressing　a　wench。　　We　are　your　judges。　You　have　entered　the　Kingdom　of　Argot；　without　being　an　~argotier~；　you　have　violated　the　privileges　of　our　city。　　You　must　be　punished　unless　you　are　a　~capon~；　a　~franc…mitou~　or　a　~rifodé~；　that　is　to　say；　in　the　slang　of　honest　folks；a　thief；　a　beggar；　or　a　vagabond。　　Are　you　anything　of　that　sort？　Justify　yourself；　announce　your　titles。〃

〃Alas！〃　said　Gringoire；　〃I　have　not　that　honor。　　I　am　the　author〃

〃That　is　sufficient；〃　resumed　Trouillefou；　without　permitting　him　to　finish。　　〃You　are　going　to　be　hanged。　　'Tis　a　very　simple　matter；　gentlemen　and　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　you。　'Tis　your　fault　if　it　is　harsh。　　One　really　must　behold　the　grimace　of　an　honest　man　above　the　hempen　collar　now　and　then；　that　renders　the　thing　honorable。　　Come；　friend；　divide　your　rags　gayly　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　stone；　which　we　stole　from　Saint…Pierre　aux　Boeufs。　　You　have　four　minutes　in　which　to　fling　your　soul　at　his　head。〃

The　harangue　was　formidable。

〃Well　said；　upon　my　soul！　　Clopin　Trouillefou　preaches　like　the　Holy　Father　the　Pope！〃　exclaimed　the　Emperor　of　Galilee；　smashing　his　pot　in　order　to　prop　up　his　table。

〃Messeigneurs；　emperors；　and　kings；〃　said　Gringoire　coolly　（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　Gringoire。　　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；　~xête　Dieu~！　　Well！　comrade；　is　that　any　reason；　because　you　bored　us　to　death　this　morning；　that　yo