Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 29: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

or ar orn THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. 29 As he thus spoke Master Jacques unrolled the parch- neat. ‘Give it to me,” said the archdeacon. eye over it. claimed. ‘‘ #men Hetan—that is the cry of the witches on their arrival at their Sabbath meetings. Peripsumn, | the window. He threw his | my arm, you have a hand like a vise.” “Pure magic, Master Jacques!"* he ex- | i without comprehending his meaning, “ that I will not | meddle with it. But, for mercy’s sake, master, loose | The archdeacon heard him not. “*O fool! fool,” he | again began, without taking his eyes for a moment off | “And if thou couldst have _ broken | ét ewm ipso, et in ipso—that is the command which chains through those formidable meshes with thy delicate down the devil in hell. Haz, maz—that belongs to medicine—a form against the bite of mad dogs. Maater Jacques, you are the king’s proetor in the eccle- aiastical court ; this parchment is abominable.” “We will apply the torture again. But here is some- thing else,” added Master Jacques, fumbling a second time in his pouch, “that we have found at Marc Cenaine’s.” . It was # vessel of the same family as those which covered Dom Clatide’s furnace. “ Aha!’ said the arch- deacon; “a crucible of alchemy !"’ ‘“‘I must confess,”’ resumed Master Jacques, with his timid and awkward smile, “that [I triedit upon the furnace, but with no better luck than with my own.” The arehdeacon examined the vessel. “What has he engraved on his crucible? Och, och—the word that drives away fleas. This Marc Cenaine is an ignoramus. I can easily believe that you will not make gold with this. ‘Tis fit to put in your alcove in summer, and that is all.” “Talking of blunders,” said the king’s proctor, “I have been examining the porch below before I came up; is your reverence quite sure that the one of the aeven naked figures at the feet of Our Lady, with wings at his heels, is Mercury ?”’ ; ‘‘Oertainly,’’ replied the priest, “so it is stated by Augustin Nypho, the Italian doctor, who had a bearded demon that revealed everything to him. But we will go en erewasly, and I will explain this to you by he text.’ : “ Many thanks, master,”’ said Charmolue, with a very ‘Low obeisance. “ But I had well nigh forgotten—when doth it please you that I should order the young sor- ceress to: be apprehended ?” ‘What sorceress ?”” “That Bohemian, you know, who comes every day to dancein the Parvis, in despite of the prohibition of the official, She hasa gost which is possessed, and has the devil’s own horns, and reads, and writes, and understands mathematics, and would be ‘enough to bring all Bohemia to the gallows. The indictment is uite ready. A handsome creature, upon my soul, ¢hat dancer! the brightest black eyes! a pair of Egyptian carbuncles! when shall we n ?” The archdeacon turned pale as death. “I will tell ou,” stammered he, with a voice scarcely articulate, hen with an effort tte added: “For the present, go on with Marc Cenaine.” « Never fear,’’ said Charmolue, smiling; “ag soon as I got back, I will have him strapped down n to the leathern bed. But ’tis s devil of a fellow; he tires Pierrat Torterue himself, aud his hands are bigger than ming. As saith the good Plautus: 4Nudua vinctus contum pondo, es quando, pendes per podes.” ‘Tho ae will be the best thing to set to work upon him.” m Claude appeared to be absorbed in gloomy roverie. Suddenly turn to Charmolue: ‘‘ Master Pierrat—Master Jacqués, I would say go on with Marc Cenaine.”’ “Ay, ay, Dom Claude. Poor man ho will have suf- foreda martyrdom. But then what an idea, to go to the Babbath! a butler of the Court of Accompfs, who ought to know the text of Oharlemagne’s ordinance, | vel mascaf As for the girl—Smelrada, as they her—I shall await your orders. Ah, true! and when we are at the porch, yon will also explain to me what the gardonor in low relief at the entrance of the church is meant for! Is it not the sower? Hey, master! What think you?” — Dom Olaude, engrossed by his own reflections, at- tended not to the speaker. Charmolue, cows. the direction of his eye, perceived, that it was mechanically fixed upon a large spider's web stretched across the window. At that moment, a giddy fly, attracted b the March sun, flew into the net and became entangle init. At the shock given to his web, an enormous apider rushed forth from his Central cell, and then at one leap, sprang upon the fiy, which he doubled up with his fore legs, whilst with his hideous sucker he attacked the head. ‘Poor fly!’ said the proctor, and raised his hand to rescue it. The archdeacon, suddenly atarting up, held back his arm with conclusive violence. " ¢ Master Jacques!" cried he, “meddle not with fa- tality |’ The proctor turned about im alarm ; it seemed as if his erm was held by iron pincers. The eye of the priest was fixed, wild, glaring, and gazed intently upon the horrible little group of the fly and the spider. “© yes, yes!" resumed the priest, with a voice that aeemed to proceed from his very bowels, “ this is an emblem of the whole affair. Itis young, it flies about, it is merry, it seeks the open air, the spring sunshine, liberty. Oyes! But itis pes at the fatal window ; it is — in the toils of the spider, the hideous apider! Poor dancing-girl! poor predestined fly! Be uiet, Master Jacques! it is fatality! Alas. Claude! thou art the spider. Claude, thou art the fly too! Thou didst seek science, the light, the sunshine; thou desiredst only to reach the free air, the broad daylight of eternal truth ; but, while darting toward the daz- = window, which opens into the other world, a world of brightness, intelligence, and science, blind fly, silly doctor, thou didst not perceive thesubtle spider's web, De nage by Fate between the light and thee; thou rushedst into it, and now, with mangled head and broken wings, thou strugglest in the iron p of fatality | aster Jacquos! Master Jacques! let the apider alone |" “T assure you,” said Oharmolue, who stared at him | | wings, dost thou imagine that thou couldst then have attained the light? How wouldst thou have passed that glass, which is beyond it, that transparent ob- stacle, that wail of crystal harder than brass, which separates all philosophers from truth? O vanity of science ! how many sages come fiuttering from afar to dash their heads against it! how mary systems come buzzing to rush pell-mell against this eternal window |”’ He paused. The concluding reflections, which had insensibly divertal his mind from himself to science, appeared to have restored him to a degree of com- posure. Jacques Charmolue brought him back com- pletely to a feeling of reality by asking him this ques- tion: ‘‘ By the by, master, when .will you come and help me to make gold? Iam notlucky at it.” The archdeacon shook his head with a bitter smile. “ Master Jacques,"’ he replied,“ read the Dialogus de gia et Operatione Demonum, by Michael Psellus. What we are about is not absolutely inhocent,”’ *‘ Speak lower, master,’’ said Charmolue. ‘‘I thought as much myself. But a man may be allowed to dabblea little in hermetics when he is but king’s proctor in the ecclesiastical court at thirty crowns tournois per an- num. Only let us speak lower.’’ At that moment sounds resembling those madé in mastication, proceeding from beneath the furnace, struck the alarmed ear of Charmolue. “ What is that ?’’ he asked. It was the scholar who, cramped in his hidin g-place and heartily weary of it, had there found a hard crust and a cube of moldy cheese, and fallen foul of them without ceremony, by way of consolation and break- fast. As he was very hungry he made a great noise, and smacked his chaps so audibly at every munch as to excite alarm in the proctor. : “’Tis only my cat,’’ said the archdeacon, sharply, “ regaling himself under there with a mouse.” This explanation satisfied Charmolue. ‘In fact, Master,”’ he replied, with «a respectful smile, “ every great philosopher has his familiar animal. As Servius says, you know, Nullus enim locus sine genio est. m Claude, apprehensive of some new prank of Jehan’s, reminded his worthy disciple that they had some figures on the porch to study together ; and both left the.cell, to the great relief of the acholar, who be- gan seriously to fear that his knees and his chin would grow together. CHAPTER VI. CAPTAIN PH@BUS DE CHATEAUPERS. ‘Te Deum laudamus !*’ exclaimed Master Jehan, sally- ing forth from his hole; “the two screech-owls are gone. Och! och—Hax! pax! max—the fleas—the mad dogs! the devil—I’ve had quite enough of their talk! my head rings like a belfry. Let us be offtoo, and turn my good brother’s money into bottles !’’ He cast a look of kindness and admiration into the in- terior of the precious pouch, adjusted his dress, wiped his busking, brushed the ashes from his sleevea, whistled & tune, cut @ caper, looked round to seo if there was anything else in the cell that he could make free with, picked up here and there on the furnace some amulet of lass, fit to be given by way of trinklet to Isabeau la ierrye, opened the door which his brother @ «# last indulgetice had left unlocked, and which he in his turn left open as the last trick he could play him, and de- scended the winding stairs, hopping like a bird. He stamped his foot when he found himself again on the ground, “Oh good and honorable pavement of Paris |” he exclaimed—* cursed stairs that would give a breathing to the angels of Jacob’s ladder themselves ! What was I thinking of to squeeze myselfinto that stone gimlet which pierces the sky, and all to eat mouldy cheese and to see the steeples of Paris through a loophole 6 had moved but afew steps when he perceived the two screech-owls, alias Dom Claude and Master Jacques Charmolue, eames te Bo one of the aculptures of the porch. Heapproached them on oe and heard the archdeacon say ip a very low tone to his companion: “It was William of Paris who had a Job engraved upon that stone of the color of lapis-lazuli, and gilt on the edges. Job represents the philosopher's stone, which must be tried and tortured in order to become pertect, as saith Raymond Lully: Sud conservatione forme speci- Jice salva anima.” “What is that to me?’ said Jehan, to himself—*I have got the purse.”’ At this moment he heard aloud and sonorous voice behind him pour forth a formidable volley of oaths: “Sang Dieu! Ventre Dieu! Bedieu! Corps, de Dieu! — de Belzebuth! Nom d'un pape! Corne a ton- nerre /”* “Upon my soul,” cried Jehan, ‘that can be nubody but my friend Captain Phabus!”’ The name of Phebus struck the ear of the arch- deacon at the moment when he was explaining to the king’s proctor the dragon hiding his tail in a bath whence issue smoke and aroyal head. Dom Claude shuddered, stopped short, to the great surprise of Charmolue, turned round, and saw his brother Jehan accosting @ tall officer at the door of the Gondalaurier mansion, It was in fact Captain Phebus de Chateaupers. He was leaning against the angle of the house and swear- ing like # pagan. “By my fay, Captain Phebus,” said Jehan, grasping his hand, “ you swear with marvelous emphasis. “ Blood and thunder !’’ replied the captain. ‘Blood and thunder to you!” rejoined the scholar “But, Isay, gentle captain, what has occasioned this overfiow of fair words ?”’ “I beg your pardon, my good comrade Jehan,” cried Phebus, shaking him by the hand, “a horse at the top of his speed cannot stop short. Now L was swearing at full gallop. I haye just come from those affected prudes, and whenever I leave themI have my throat full of oaths; Tam forced to turn them out or they would choke me outright,”’ “Will you come and drink with me?’ asked the scholar. This proposal pacified the captain. said he, “ but I have no money.’ “Well, but I have.” *“ Aha’! let us see?’’ Jehan ethibited the pouch to the wondering gaze of the captain. Meanwhile the archdeacon, who had left Charmolue quite astounded, approached and «stopped within a few paces of them, watching both without their béing aware of it, so entirely was-their attention engrossed by the pouch. | “A pursein your pocket; Jehan,”’ cried Phebus, “ is like the moon in a bucket of water. You see it, but itis not there; "tis only the shadow. Nothing but peb- bles in it, I would wager.”’ ~ “There are the pebbles that I pave my pocket with,” replied Jehan, dryly; and so saying he emptied the pouch upon a post close by, with the air of a Roman saving his country. ‘* By heaven!" muttered Phoebus; “real moneys! ‘tis absolutely dazzling.” Jehan retained his grave and dignified attitude. A few liards had rolled into the mud; the captain, in his enthusiasm, stooped to pick them up. He counted the pieces, and, turning with a solemn look toward bis companion, ‘‘Do you know, Jehan,’ said he, “ that there are twenty-three sous Parisis? Whom have you had the luck to lighten last night in the Rue Coupe- Gueule ?”’ Jehan threw back the long, light hair that curled about his face, and half closed his disdainful eyes. “'Tis a gues thing,’ said he, “to have a brother who is an archdeacon and a simpleton.” **Corne de Dieu !"’ exclaimed Phoebus. fellow.”’ “Let us go and drink,,’ said Jehan. The two friends then bent their steps toward the tav- ern known by the sign of la Pomme d’ Eve. It is super- fluous to say that they had first picked up the money, and that the archdeacon followed them. The archdeacon followed them with wild and gloomy look. Was this the Pha@bus whose accursed name had, ever Since his interview with Gringoire, haunted al! his thoughts? he knew not, but at any rate it was s Phebus, and his magic name sufficed to lure the archdeacon to follow the two reckless companions with a stenithy step, listening to their conversation and watching their slightest gesturea with intense anxiety. Indeed, noth- ing was moré easy than to hear all they said, so loud was the tone in which they carried on theirconversation about duels, flagons, and drunken frolics. At the turning of a street, the sound of a tambourine was wafted to them from a crossing at a little distance. Dom Claude heard the officer say to his brother: ‘Come, let us quicken our pace !”’ “Why, Phebus?” ‘I'm afraid leat the Bohemian should see me.” “What Bohemian?” — “The girl with the goat.” “La Esmeralda?” — ‘ “The same, Johan. I always forget her name. Let us make haste; she would know me again. I don't wish that girl to speak to me in the street.” “Are you then acquainted with her, Phasbus ?’’ Here the archdea:on saw Phobus grin, stoop to Jehan’s car, and whisper afew words init. The cap- tain then burst intoa loud laugh, and tossed his head with a triumphant air. , ** Indeed !"’ said Jehan. “Upon my soul!” replied Phabus. “To-night ?” “This very night.’ “Are you sure she will come?” 4 You must be silly, Jehan. Not the least doubt of “ Captain Phosbus, you are a lucky fellow!” The archdeacon heard every syllable of this conver- sation. His teeth chattered. A shudder, visible to the eye, thrilled his whole frame. He paused for amomoent; leaned against a t, like a drunken man, and again followed the two boon companions. I fain would,’’ “The worthy it CHAPTER VII. THE GOBLIN-MONE. Tux celebrated tavern, called la Pomme d’Eve, wa, situated in the University, at the corner of Rue do | Rondelle and Rue du Batonnier. It was a very spacious but very low room, with s double-roof, the central return of which was supported by a mausive wooden pillar painted yellow; the fldor covered with tables, bright tin’ jugs hanging up against the wal, plenty-ot topers, plenty of profligate women, a window next to the street, a vine at the door, and over the door a creaking square of sheet-iron, upon which were painted a woman and an apple, rusted with rain and turning upon an iron spike. This kind of weather- cock, which looked toward the pavement, was the sign of the house. It was nightfall, and the tavern, tall of candles, glared at adistance like a forgeinthe dark; the sounds of carousal, swearing, altercation, mixed with the jingle of glasses, issued from the broken panes. Vhrough the haze which covered the window, in consequence of the heat of the room, might be discerned awarms of confused figures, from which burst, from time to time, roars of laughter. The pedestrians whose business 9)(6\(6)