Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

LO a ee — ———$ i oe of low, 8 ' the histo - victory were distinctly heard. and the u ~~», Shore, , dirty-looking clouds, in which the Je. ones and spread about or — yolk ofa broken egg. ‘Tis a goodly mansion that! has a chapel, with vaulted roof, beautified with éxcellent sculptures yan may see aboye it the belfry, with its rare and d tracery. There is also a pleasant gar- den, containing a fish-pond, an aviary, an echo, @ is laze, & house for wild beasts, and many y alleys Particularly agreeable. to Venus. There is likewise a rogue of atree called ‘The Loyer’s Tree,’ because it served for the trysting-place of a famous . princess, and a gay and. witty constable of France. Alas! we poor ae are,to a constable what a bed of cabbages moon appe or tu isto a grove of laurels, What sigtifies it after For, ©. great, as for us, life is a medley of good and»ill. Pair ae -by the side of pleasure, as he yl.’ I must tell you the history thes of ate Ton rbeau, master ; it finished in a tragical way... in 1319, under. Philip V., who reigned longer than.any other king of France. The moral of is that the temptations of the flesh are hurtful and pernicious. Beware of looking too hard at the wife of your neighbor, much as your senses may be struck by, her beauty. Zounds ! what -am uproar tuey are making yonder!” : The tumult around Notre-Daine ‘was in ‘fact raging withincreased»vehemence. They listened. Shouts of All at ouce, a hundred torches, which madéthe helmets of the meti-at-arms glisten, appeared on all parts of the church, on the towers, the galleriés, the flying buttresses. These torches seemed to be employed in searchfng after some- thing; and presently distant shouts of “ The Egyptian —the sorveress—death to the Egyptian’’—were plainly heard by the fugitives. ; ’ The unhappy girl nee her head upon her hands, own began’to row furiously toward the Our philosopher was meanwhile musing. ‘He hugged the goat in his arms, and »slided gently “away from the Bohemian, who”préssed Closer and closer to him, as to the only asylum that was now left her: It was certain that Gringoire was in a cruel dilemma. ; - He considered that asthe law then stood, the goat , Would be hanged tooif she were re-taken; thatit would be a great pity—poor dear Djali—that two condemned dues tren clinging to him were more than he could manage; that, ides, his companion desired nothing better than totake charge of the Egyptian. A violent conflict ensued among his thoughts, in which, like Homer’s Jupiter, he weighed by turns the Egyptian and the goat; and he looked first at one and then at the other with eyes brimful of tears, muttering at the same time between his teeth, “ And yet I cannot save you both !”” A shock apprised them that the skiff had reached the shore, The city still rang with the appalling uproar. The unknown rose, stepped-up to the Egyptian, and offered her his arm to assist her to land. She refused it and clung to the sleeve of Gringoire, who, on his years, engaged with the goat, almost pushed her away. he then sprang without help out of the boat. She was so alarmed that she Knew not what she was doing or whither she was going. She stood stupefied for a moment, with her eyes on the water. When she came to herself a little she was alone on the quay with - the unknown. It appeared that Gringoire had taken advantage of the instant of landing to steal away with the goat among the cluster of houses composing the Rue Grenier-sur-]'Eau. The poor Egyptian shuddeted on finding herself alone with that man. She strove to speuk, to cry out, to call Gringoire; but her tongue refused its office, and not a sound issued from her lips. All at once she felt the hand of the unkuown upon hers. Her teeth chattered, and she turned paler than the moon's ray which fell upon her. The man spoke mot a_word. With hasty step he began to move toward the Place de Greve, drawing her along by the hand. Af that moment she had a vayue feeling that Fate is an irre- sistible power. She had lost all elasticity, and fol- lowed mechanically, running while he walked. The quay at this spot is rising ground; to her it seemed as ifshe were going down hill. THE HUNCHBACK OF) NOTRE-DAME, Moonlight produces this effect. It seems as if by that light one beholds only the specters of objects." “ List tome!” said he; and she, shuddered at the soundof that fatal voice, which she had not heard for so longatime. Hecontinued, with frequ auses and in broken sentences which betoken violentinward agitation, “‘ List to me! Here we are. would speak to thee. This is the Greve. Wego no ther. Fate delivers us up into the hands of each other. Thy life is at. my disposal; my soul at thine. Here is a place and a night beyond which one sees nothing. List to me then. I would tell thee—butnot a word about thy Phobus’’—as he spoke Mewncenee and fro, like a man who cannot remaiz quietly onone t, and drew after’ hinn—* talk not to me of him. If thou but. utterest that name, I know what J shall do; but it will be terrible,’ wie ¢ Hrs, few jew Having proceeded thus far, like a body recovering its center of gravity, he stood, still,.but-his words be- trayed not the less perturbation. His voice became more and more faint. . , be ae “Turn not thy head from me thus, List to me. ’Tis a serious business. First, I would tell thee what has passed. It is not a thing to laugh at, I pretest to thee. .But what, was I saying! .Ah, yes! An order has been issued by the Parliament, which consigns thee again to thewallows. I haye rescued thee*trom their hands, But yonder they are search for. thee. He pointed toward the city. It was.evident, in fact, that the search was’ continued,. , The noise drew nearer. The tower of the lier t’s house, facing the Greve, was full of bustle and lights,; and soldiers might be seen running on the, opposite quay with torches, aborting, ‘The Egyptian !. Where is the Egyptian? Death! death!” 9... ¥ “Thou .seest that they are ursuit of thee, and that J am uot deceiving thee. Maiden, I love thee | Opén not thy lips ; answer me not, if itis to tellme that thou batest me. Lam determined not to hear that. I have aided thine escape, Let me complete fle work. Ican save thee. Everything is prepared, All depends on thy will. Whatever thou wilt sliall be done.’’ ; He interrupted himself with yvehemence. “ No! that is not what I meant to say.”” Then running, and draw- ing her along after him, for he still kept hold of her, he went straight, to the foot of the gibbet, and, pointing to it, said coldly, ‘‘ Choose between us.’’ drety' She tore herself from his gripe, and, throwing her- self on the pavement, clasped the toot of the fatal ma- chine; then, halfturning her head, she iooked over her shoulder. at the priest. The peers stood motion- less, his finger still toward the gibbet, like a statue. , ‘“‘T feel less horror of that than you,” at length said the Egyptian. 7" He slowly tin doo his arm, and cast his eyes upon e*e@. the pavement in p dejection. ‘' Yes,” saidhe; “if these stones could speak, they would say, ‘There is the most miserable of men !’”’ “Iloyeyou,” he again began. The girl, kneeling before the gibbet, covered by her long flowing! hair, allowed him to proceed without interruption. His accent was now soft and plaintive, wotully contrasting with the lofty sterness of his features. “Tlove you. Nothing can be more true: No fire ean be fiercer than that which consumes my heart. Ah! maiden, nightand day—yes, night and daydoth this claim no pity?’ "Tis alove, atorture, night and day, I tell thee. Oh! ,my dear girl, ‘tis an agony worthy of compassion, I assure thee. I would speak kindly to thee, thou seest. I would have thee not feel such horror ofme. And then, if aman loves a woman itis not his fault. What! thou wilt never take com- passion on me, then! Thou wilt hate me forever! ’Tis this that makes me cruel—aye,hateful to myself’! Thou wilt not even deiyn tolook at me, Thou art thinking perhaps of something e!se, whilelam talking to th and trembling on tue brink of eternity of Loth. any rate; talk not to me of. thine. officer! Were I to throw myself at thy knees; were IL. to kiss—not. thy feet—thou wouldst not suffer me—but the asad beneath them ; were I to sob like a child, and to tear from my busom not words, but my heart and my en- ¢| Who has runaway. Let her notescape, I & mine eyes against the stones of thy temple, and it was on my aceount,-and on account of this female, and on her account "—— | 5% His eye glared wildly. His voice ‘became more anil more faint; he repeated several times, and wit! pauses of some length, like a bell prolong its last vibration, “ Om her account’’— ‘On her account ”’— His lips continued to move, but his tongue ceased to articulate any audible sound, All at once he sanic down and remained motionless upon the ground, with his head bowed to hisknees.» . _ . ra Aslight movement made by the girl to»draw her foot from under him brought him to himself. He passed his hand slowly over his hollow cheeks, and looked yacantly for some moments .at his gers which were wet. “ What!” he muttered; “ have [ wept ?’’ ems hey 5 : ’ Turning abruptly towards the with irre- pressible, anguish, he said: “ And hast thou coldly beheld me woop Kouowest thou girl, that those tearsgare lava? Is it then true that thy sexare hot moved by anything that can befall the man they hate ?.. Wert.thou to.see,me die, thou wou t leden. “But I—I—wish not thy death One word }.a single work of kindness! Tell me not that thon ‘lovest me; say only that thou wishest me well; it. shal) suffice— : will mel ba © Pe reepieo 01 ets it me mee : iniplore thee by “Bac not till — am again transtormed into atone, “ithe. thet ibbet which also claims. thee! Consider that I hold ‘both our fates in my. hand that I am mad—ol! it, is terrible—that I may let all d , and that re is beneath us a bottomless abyss down wale shall follow thee ins thy- fall, te all eternity! One kind word! one word Lbutasingle word!’ ... nv Shé opened her lips to answer. He fell on his knees | before her, to catch with adoration the words, per- haps of sympathy, which should drop. from, her mouth, % meee a ew eo ne -" tm i The priest claspe us n his arms burst into a terrific laugh. ‘ Assassin though I be.” cried he, “I will have thee. Thou wilt not. have me for aslave; thou shalt have me for a master. Thou shalt be mine. [haveaden to which I will: thee. Thou shalt come, thou must come with me, or I will deliver thee up? Thou must die, girl, or be m be the priest's, the apostate’s, the assassin's ! choice rests with thykelf—decide instantly ; for I not submit to further humiliations.” P His eyes sperbled with. passion and rage. The dam- sel's neck was flushed beneath the, touch.of his burn- ing lips. ' o «* Loose me, monster ?’”’ cried she. “Oh! the hate- ful poisonous monk! Loose me, or I as ty gray hair and dash it in th e reddened, turned pale, re d her from his grip, aud eyed her with a gloomy look. She deems | herself victorious, and continued: ‘I tell thee I b«- long tomy Phebus, that tis Phebus I love, that ily Phebus who is handsome! As for thee, priest, tho art old, thou artugly! Go thy way!’ He gey98 violent shriek, like a wretch to whose flesh a red-hot iron isapplied. ‘Die then!’ said he gnash- ing his teeth. She noticed the infernal malignity of his look, and would have fled. He caught her again, face |’ shook her, threw her down, and with rapid strides proceeded toward the anyle of Roland ower, drag- ging her after him along the pavement by her beauti- ful arms. : On reaching that point he turned toward her, ‘*Once more,’’ said he, “ wilt thou be mine?’ She replied firmly, “No!” ¢ rie He then cried aloud: ‘“Gudule! Sister Gudule 2 Here is the Egyptain! Revenge thyself on her!’’ The felt herself suddenly d by the wrist. me soon en catipe % ert Sk hrust through a hole wall, which he Wes Sh ted? Hold thet?” said the priest, “ ‘tis, the Exy tian, will fetch. the sergcunts ; thou shalt see her hanged.” These inhuman words were answered by a guttural laugh from within the wall: ‘‘Hal hal! ha!’ The Egyptian saw the priest run off toward the bridge of Notre-Dame. The tramp of horses was’ heard in that ¢ oF OR ot ‘ She looked around onall sides. Nota passenger was | trails,to tell thee how I love theo, all would be in vain, | direction, ) to. be seen; The quay was absolutely deserted. She | heard no sound, she perceived no movement of men but | in the tumultuous and roaring city, from which she | was parted m | by an arm of the Seine, and whence | ber name, mingled with cries of death, was wafted to | her ear. rest of Paris lay scattered around her in vast masses of shade. j } heard him weep; it was for the first time. all !—And yet thou hast in thy soul naught but what is kind and tender. Tuouartpll goodness, all gentle- ness, all compassion, all charms. Alas! to me alone art thou unfeeling. Ol! what a fatality !” He buried his face in his hends. La Esmeralda His figure, Meanwhile the unknown continued to drag her along | t!™8 Upright and shaken by sobs, was more pitiable with the same silence and the same rapidity. She had /and more humble than if he had knelt. He continued No recollcton of the places through which he took her, | to Weep thus for some time. In passing a lighted window she suddenly made an ef- fort to resist, and cried, ‘Help! help!’ The window ee ; the inmate of the room ap- peared at it in his shirt and nightcap, with a lamp in his hand, looked out with drowsy eyes upon the quay, muttered a few words which she could not catch, and reclosed the window, She felt as though the last glim- mer of hope was extinguished, The man in black utteved not a syllable: he held her tightly, and began to quicken his pace. Sheceased to resist, and followed him spiritless and hopeless. From time to time she mustereda little strength, and ina voice broken irom the jolting of the rugged pavement, and from her being out.of breath, owing to the rapid rate at which she was drawn along, she asked; “Who are you?) What are you?’ He made no reply. Proceeding thus along the quay, they arrived at a large open s The moon shone faintly. It was the Greve. In the middle of it stood a black cross—it Wus the gibbet. She now knew whereshe was. Tae man stopped, turned toward her, and raised his cowl, “TI knew that it must be he !"’ it was in truth the priest. “Ol!” stammered she, petrified with herror, | “ Alas !’’ he proceeded, tlis first paroxysm over, “I am at aloss forwords. And yet I had well pondered rwhat Ishould say tothee. NowItrembleand shudder; 1 shrink back at the decisive moment; I feel some superior power that overwhelms me and makes me*‘stammer, Oh! I ghall sink on the. pave- ment unless thou take pity on me,on thyself. Con- demn not both of us. Would that thou knowest how I love thee, and what a heart is mine. Oh! what an /abandonment of all virtue, what a desperate deser- ‘tion of myself! A doctor, lmake a mock. at science; /a gentleman, I disgrace my name; a priest, I violate | the most solemn vows, and renounce my God—and ‘all for thy sake, enchantress;.and thou rejectest the | wretched one! Oh! I must tell thee all—still more, | something even yet more horrible—imost horrible !” | As he uttered the concluding words, his look. be- came quite wild. He kept silence for a moment, and then ye again, as if speaking to himself in &@ lond tone: “ Cain, what hast thou done with thy brother ?’ Again he paused, and thén continued: “ What have I done with him,Lord? Ihave taken him unto me, I have fed him, Ihave brought him up, I have loved him, I have idolized him, and—L have slain him. Yes, He looked like a ghost, ! Lord, he it was whose head was but now dashed before The girl presently recognized the malicious recluse. Panting with terror, she strove to releasé herself. She writhed, she made many a bound of agony and despair, but the recluse held her with supernatural force. The bony fingers meeting around her wrist clasped her as firmly asif that hand had been riveted: to her arm. More efficient than achain or ring of iron, it was a pair of living and intelligent pincers issuing from a’ wall. Avainst that wall La Esmeralda sank exhausted, and then the fear of death came over her. She thought of the pleasure of life, of youth, of the aspect of the sky of the scenery of nature, of love, of Phoebus, of a that. was past and all that was to come, of the priest that was gone to denounce her, of the gibbet which stood there and the hangman who woul preety arrive.. Then did she feel horror mounting to the very roots of her lair, and she heard the sinister laugh of the re- cluse, Who suid in alow tone: “Thou art going to be hanged ! ha, ha, ha ?’’ She turned, half dead, toward the aperture, and saw the sallow face of the recluse-between the bars. “What harm have I done to you?” said she, in : faint voice. | The recluse made no reply, but began to mutie:. |with a. singing, irritating,.and jeering intonation : |‘ Gipsy girl, gipsy girl, gipsy girl 1’’ | The wretched Esmeralda drooped her -head, con- | ceiving that it was not a human being with which she had to deal. | Suddenly the recluse exclaimed, as if the girl’s ques - tion had taken all the intermediate time to reach her understanding: ‘‘ What harm hast thou dome me, dost thou ask? What harm hast thou.done me, Egyptian? JOO ecom (E ‘ tear out thy | iGO