Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

. | ; -_-- _ At times a smile and a sigh would meet upon his lips, but the smile wan by far the sadder of the two. 8 at length paused, he people applauded with enthusiasm. a Djali !'' said the Bohemian, and up started a pretty ittle white goat, a nimble, lively, glossy creature, with iit horns, gilt hoots, and # gilt collar, which Gringoire al not yet perceived, and which had, till then, been t the corner of the aK @ watching her mistress ms Djali,” said tho girl, “ it is your turn now ;”’ :4nd seating herself, she gracefully held the tambourine ‘before the animal. “‘ Djali,”” continued she, “ what ; month arewe in?” The goat raised her fore-leg and r one stroke upon the tambourine. It was actu- eally tmonth. The crowd applauded. “ Djali,” egaid the girl, turning the tambourine s different way, ae i of the month is this?” Djali again raised 6 gilt hoof, and struck six blows upon the in- po tema, ** Djali,”” continued the Egyptian, 2 changing the position of the tambourine, “ what o'clock is it?’’ Djali gave seven blows. At that mo- mont the clock of the on-aux-Piliers struck seven. ® were astonished. ‘* There is sorcery at the bottom of this!’ said a sin- ter voice in the crowd. It was that of the bald man, ‘ho never took his eyes off the Bohemian. She shud- lere ro d turned away; end thunders of applause rat fc and drowned the morose exclamation. They had the effect of effacing it so completely from x mind that she continued to question her goat. “ Djali, show moe how Master Guichard Grand Remy, tain of tho city pistoleers, does in the Candlemas ) - i raised herself on her hind-leys, end walking with auch comic gravi- snd began bleati ty, that whole circle of spectators foared with ou ‘at the parody upon the interested devotion of the n of the pistoleers. « the mings hg | in the eccelsias ‘¢ @goat sat down on her rump, ; ’ ) ) oe blcatl and shaking her fore-paws in such a SS ee gesture, accent, attitude, every- 3 & thing French and worse Latin, it was Jacques Charmolue to the life. The crowd applauded more loudly ever. we { profanatiom!’’ ejaculated the ba'd man. The gipsy turned round once more. “Ah!” said she, “It is that odious man [”’ then lengthened her lower lip beyond the upper she gave s pout that seemed to be habitual to her, turned upon her heel, and began to collect the donations of the multitude in her tam- bourine. Silver and copper coins of all sorts and — were showered into it. She came to Gringoire, who 60 réadily thrust his hand tuto his pocket that she wre oe ‘The devil!" muttered the poet. fumb- g in pocket and finding the reality, that is noth- - The graceful girl stood before him, looking at him with her large eyes, and holding out her tam- Dourine. | of perspiration started from Grin- | £0ire’ w. If had had Pern in his pocket, he ssdivetuniediiveamn given it to the dancer; but Grin- ‘goire had ha there, and besides, America was not ‘yet discovered. An unexpected incident luckily re- ed him. \. “Wilt thou be gone, Egyptian grasshopper ?’’ cried a sharp voice issuing trom Be durkest corner of the Ce young turned about in alarm. It was of the man; it was the voice of a not t ‘female, a dévout and spiteful voice. This exclamation, which on we ota the gipsy, excited the merriment of boys who were strolling near the t. “Tis thecrazy woman in Roland's Tower," cried they, outs of laughter; “’tis Sacky whois scolding. Por she has‘had no supper. Let us run to the city larder and see if we can get something for her!’’ And away they scampered to the Maisonaux-Piliers. nwhile, Gringoire had taken advantage of the girl’s ation to sneak off. The shotitsof the boys remind- him that he had not supped either. He though that he, too, might 4s well try his luck at the larder. But the young.rogtes ran too fast‘for him ; when he arrived, everything was Cleared away ; there was not 4 scrap of It is not pleasant to be obliged to go to bed without supper, and still less agreeable to have no bed to go to as well as no supper to eat. Such was Gringoire’s pre- jicament. He nd himself closely.pressed on all } by necessity, and he thought necessity unneces- a - He had long since discovered this truth, that Jupiter created man ina fit of misant hropy, and at, t out the whole life of the philosopher, his tiny his philosophy in a state of siege. For own part, he had never seen the blockade so com- lete; he heard his stomach beat a parley; and he la ita scurvy trick of malicious destiny to take s philosophy by famine. _ In»-thia melancholy reverie he became more and more absorbed, when a strange kind of song, but remar sweet, suddenly roused him from St. It was the yptian girl who was singing. Her voice, like her dancing and her beauty, was indefinable, something pure, sonorous, #rial, winged, as it were. There were continual gushes of melody, unexpected cadences, then simple phrases interspersed with harsh and hissing tones; now leaps which would have con- fused a nightingale, but in which harmony was never- theless preserved; and presently soft undulations of octaves, which rose and fell like the bosom of the young singer. Her fine face followed with extraordinary ver- satility all the caprices of her song, from the wildest inspiration to the chastest dignity. You would have taken her at one time for a maniac, at another for a eon. The words which she sang were of a language un- known to Gringoire, and apparently unknown tv her- #lf, so little did the expression thrown into the sinying hia reverie seemed to become more and more gloomy.| accord with the signification of those words. panting with her exertions, cat "resumed the girl, emboldened by the in- | applause, “show me how master ues | these four lines were in the highest strain of mirth : Un cofre de gran riqueza Hallaron dentro un pilar, Dentro del, nuevas banderas, Con figuras de espantar. A moment afterward the tone which she infused into this stanza: ‘ Alarabes de cavallo Sin poderse menear, Con espadas, y a los cuellos, Ballestas de buen echar. — drew tears into the eyes of Gringoire. Mirth, however, was the predominant spirit of her lays, and she seemed to sing like the bird for sheer serenity and carelessness. The song of the gipsy had disturbed Gringoire’s reverie, but as the awan disturbs the water; he listened with a kind of rapture and ‘a forgetfulness of every- thing. It was the first respite from suffering that he had enjoyed for several hours. That respite was ~ short one. The same female voice which had inter- rupted the dancing of the gi was now raised to in- ferrupt her singing. ‘Cease thy chirping, cricket of hell!’’ tt cried, still issuing from the darkest corner of the Place. The poor cricket stopped short. *‘ Curse thg screeching, thou bird of foul omen !*’: exclaimed Gringoire, clapping hiv hands to his ears. The other spectators algo began to murmur. “The devil take the hag !"’ cried more than one, and the invisible trou- ble-feast might have had to rue her aggressions against the Bohemian, had not their attention been that moment diverted by the procession of the Pope of Fools, which, after parading through the principal streets, was now entering the Place de Greve with all its torches and its clamor. This procéssion, which set out, as the reader has seen, from the palace, was joined in its progress by all the idle ragamuftins, thieves and ds in Paris: acoordinyly it exhibited a most table appearance when it reached the Greve. . ypt marched first, headed by the duke on horse- beck with his counts on foot, holding his bridle and stirrups. They were followed by the Egyptians of both sexes, pell-mell, with their young children crying at their backs; all of them, duke, counts, and com- mons, in rags and tatters. Next came the Kingdom of Slang, that is tosay, all the rogues and thieves in France, drawn up according to their respectivé digni- ties, the lowest walking first. Thus they moved on, fuur by four, with the different insignia of their .de- grees in this strange faculty, most of them cripples, somé having lost legs, othera arms. Amidst the con- clave of grand diguiiaries, it was difficult to distin. guish the king of these ruffilans, crouched in a little car drawn by two huge dogs. After the Kingdom or Slang came the Empire of Galilee. The Emperor, Guillaume Rousseau, marched majestically in his purple robe stained with wine, preceded by dancers performing military dances and scuffling together, and surrounded by his mace-bearers and subordinate officers. Lastly came the Bazoche, the company of lawyers’ clerks, with their May-trees garlanded with flowers, in their black gowns, with music worthy of the Sabbath, and large candles of yellow wax. In the centre of this multitude, the officers of the Fraternity of Fools bore upon their shoulders a hand-barrow, more profusely beset with tapers than the shrine of St. Genevieve in time of pestilence; and on this throne glittered, with crosier, cope, and mitre, the new Pope of Fools, the bell-ringer of Notre-Dame, Quasimodo, the hunchback, Each of the divisions of his grotesque procession had its particular band of music: The ptians played u their African balafoes and tambourines. The men , @ race by no means musical, had.adyanced no further than the viol, the goat's horn, and the Gothic rebec of the twelfth century. The Empire of Galilee was but little before them; the highest stretch of its music was some wretched air of the infancy of the art, still imprisoned in the re-la-mi. It was around the Pope of Fools that all the musical excellences of the age were commingled in one magnificent caco- hanes It consisted only of viols, treble, alt, and tenor, besides flutes and instruments of brass. Our readers may not recollect that this was poor Grinygoire's orchestra. It is impossible to convey any idea of the look of pride and self-complacency which had overspread Qua- simodo’s dull and hideous countenance during this triumphal procession from the Palace to the Biers: It was the first gratification of self-love that he had ever experienced. Hitherto he had met with nothiny but humiliation, contempt for his condition, disyust of hisperson. Thus, deaf as he was, he enjoyed like a real pope the acclamations of that crowd which he hated because he knew that he was hated by it. It mattered not to him that his subjects were a mob of cripples, mendicants, thieves, ruffians—still they were subjects,and he was @ sovereign. He took in earnest all those ironical plaudits, all that mock reverence and respect, with which, we must however observe, there was mingled on the part of the crowd a certain degree of real fear; for the hunchback, was strong, the bandy-legged dwarf was active, the deaf bell-ringer was spiteful, three qualities which tend to temper ridicule. That the new Pope of Fools was conscious of the sentiments which he felt and of the sentiments which he inspired is more than we can undertake to assert. The mind which was lodged in that defective body had necessarily a touch of imperfection and of deafness. He had therefore but a vague, indistinct, confused perception of wnat he felt at that moment; erough for him that joy prevailed, pride predominated. That were and unhappy visage was encircled by 4 halo of delight. it was therefore, not without surprise and alarm SS LL NE | ee Thus | that at the moment when Quasimodge, in this state of neh mip asin “2p Me borne triumphantly past tho Maison-aux-Pil denly dart from among the crowd, with , his attendants beheld aman sud- gesture snatch from his hands his crosier of gilt Weed, sled tn ra the mark of his mewly conferred dignity. man was the orca a th - re who, , the group of spectators, ha iri the poor y girl by his exclamations of menace and sbhioesenck. 1 was attired in the ecclesiastical habit. At the indithetst when he issued trom among the crowd, Grin who had not béfore noticed him, recognized: in him an old acquaintance. ‘* Hold;" said he, with acry of aston- ishment. “Sure enough it is my master in Hermes Dom Claude Frollo, the archdeacon' What the devil would he be at with that one-eyed monster? Ho will eat him up.” Shrieks of terror burst from the crowd, as the for- midablo Quasimodo lea from the litter to the uround; and the women turned away their faces that they might not see the archdeacon in pieces. With one bound he was before the priest: ho looked at him, and dropped upon his knees. The orient yulled off his tiara, broke his crosier, and tore hia cope of tinsel. Quasimodo remained kneeling, bowed his head, and clasped his hands, Then ensued between thom sstrange dialogue of signs and gestures, tur neither of them spoke; the pricst, erect, irritated, threatening, imper- ious—Quasiinodo at his fect, humble, submissive, su pliant. And yet it is certain that Quasimodo could have crushed the priest with his thumb. At len the hdeacon, 8 brawn him. Quasimodo rose. The Fraterni ools, their first stupor over, were for de - who had been so unceremoniously dethroned. e Eayp- tians, the beggars, and the lawyers’ clerks, crowded Iping sround the priest. Quasimodo, stepping be- re the priest, clenched his athletic fists ; and as he eyed the assailants, he gnashed his teeth Hkean tiger. The priest resumed his sombre gravity, + sign to Quasimodo, and withdrew in silence. Quasi- modo went before, opening a passage for him through the crowd. When they were clear of the populace, a number of curious and idle persons began to follow them. Quasi- modo then fell into the rear; and, facing the enemy, walked backward after the arehdeacon, square, massive, bristly, picking up his limbs, licking his tusk, growling like a wild beast, and producing immense oscillations inthe crowd witha gestureorslook. They pursued their way downa dark and narrow street, into which no one durst venture to follow them ; the formidable figure of Quasim secu an un | ted retreat. « ’Tis wonderful, by my , | ouctatoned Gtingoire; “ but where shall I find a supper ?”’ ae INCONVENIENCES OF FOLLOWING A HANDSOME GIRL IN THE STREET AT NIGHT. Garxcorre took it into his head to ig ot the gipsy girl at all i, @ saw her wit her goat tu to the Rue de Coutellerie, and hs he same street he directed his course. “Why not?” said he to himself, py-the-way. | Gringoire, a practical philosopher of the streets of Paris, had remarked that not is so conducive to gly? as an nig a ae ee ge: without know- ing whither she oing ‘ Yoluntary resigna- ‘ind of tree-will, int etitbmisston of one vl m to an- uther, there is a mixture of fantastic independe: blind obedience, a something intermediate slavery and liberty, which was ploastg to Gringoire, a snan of mind essentially mixed, indecisive and pa man passions an incessantiy suspended between all Qn propecstees. and reg he pent zing them o1 14 another. He was, of comparing himself with tomb of Mohammed, attracted. fa contrary, d. rection sby two loadstones, and eter ay wavering between the veiling and re wis between rising and between nd eas hd : Nothing tends 80 nich to produce a disposition to follow passengers, and ly shee of fair sex, in the atreets, as the circumstance of neither home nor harbor. Gringoire, therefore, walked pon- ely on after the girl,wh ee ae her Bade made a role little peck do ig by her side, Nok she saw the sho coors retiring their houses, and the oe who had alone kept open on that day, shutting ae the night. “After all,” this was what he thought, or som very much like it, “she must lodge somewhere. t) te og he very good-na- tured. o knows’’— And the suspensive ' with which in his mind he cut short the sentence, in- volved certain ideas that tickled him mightily. Meanwhile, from time to timé, as he passed the last groups of tradesmen shutting their doors, he caught some ments of their conversation, which broke the chain of his pleasing hypotheses. Two old men, for instance, would accost one another in this manner: “Master Thibaut Fernicle, do you know that it is very cold?” Gringoire had known that ever since the beginning of winter. ‘*It is indeed, Master Boniface Disome! Are we g- ing to have such another winter as we had three years ago, in "80, when wood cost six sous the cord?’ ‘Pooh {| that is nothing, Master Thibaut, to the win- ter of 1407, when the froxt lasted from Martinmas to Candlemas: ay, and the cold was so bitter, that the pen of the clerk of the Purliament froze in the great chamber every three words he wrote !”’ Further on s couple of female neighbors would be chatting at their windows, while the fog made their candles crackle again. “Has your husband told you of the accident, Made- moiselle La Bou ue ?”’ “No; but what is it, Mademoiselle Turquant ?” “You know the horse of Monsieur Gilles Godin, no Gboo aa hol | x : We \ -