After having run for some time at the top of his speed, without knowing whither, knocking his head against many a street corner, leaping many a gutter1, traversing many an alley2, many a court, many a square, seeking flight and passage through all the meanderings of the ancient passages of the Halles, exploring in his panic terror what the fine Latin of the maps calls ~tota via, cheminum et viaria~, our poet suddenly halted for lack of breath in the first place, and in the second, because he had been collared, after a fashion, by a dilemma3 which had just occurred to his mind. "It strikes me, Master Pierre Gringoire," he said to himself, placing his finger to his brow, "that you are running like a madman. The little scamps are no less afraid of you than you are of them. It strikes me, I say, that you heard the clatter4 of their wooden shoes fleeing southward, while you were fleeing northward5. Now, one of two things, either they have taken flight, and the pallet, which they must have forgotten in their terror, is precisely6 that hospitable7 bed in search of which you have been running ever since morning, and which madame the Virgin8 miraculously9 sends you, in order to recompense you for having made a morality in her honor, accompanied by triumphs and mummeries; or the children have not taken flight, and in that case they have put the brand to the pallet, and that is precisely the good fire which you need to cheer, dry, and warm you. In either case, good fire or good bed, that straw pallet is a gift from heaven. The blessed Virgin Marie who stands at the corner of the Rue10 Mauconseil, could only have made Eustache Moubon die for that express purpose; and it is folly11 on your part to flee thus zigzag12, like a Picard before a Frenchman, leaving behind you what you seek before you; and you are a fool!"
Then he retraced14 his steps, and feeling his way and searching, with his nose to the wind and his ears on the alert, he tried to find the blessed pallet again, but in vain. There was nothing to be found but intersections15 of houses, closed courts, and crossings of streets, in the midst of which he hesitated and doubted incessantly16, being more perplexed17 and entangled18 in this medley19 of streets than he would have been even in the labyrinth20 of the H?tel des Tournelles. At length he lost patience, and exclaimed solemnly: "Cursed be cross roads! 'tis the devil who has made them in the shape of his pitchfork!"
This exclamation21 afforded him a little solace22, and a sort of reddish reflection which he caught sight of at that moment, at the extremity23 of a long and narrow lane, completed the elevation24 of his moral tone. "God be praised!" said he, "There it is yonder! There is my pallet burning." And comparing himself to the pilot who suffers shipwreck25 by night, "~Salve~," he added piously26, "~salve, maris stella~!"
Did he address this fragment of litany to the Holy Virgin, or to the pallet? We are utterly27 unable to say.
He had taken but a few steps in the long street, which sloped downwards28, was unpaved, and more and more muddy and steep, when he noticed a very singular thing. It was not deserted29; here and there along its extent crawled certain vague and formless masses, all directing their course towards the light which flickered30 at the end of the street, like those heavy insects which drag along by night, from blade to blade of grass, towards the shepherd's fire.
Nothing renders one so adventurous32 as not being able to feel the place where one's pocket is situated33. Gringoire continued to advance, and had soon joined that one of the forms which dragged along most indolently, behind the others. On drawing near, he perceived that it was nothing else than a wretched legless cripple in a bowl, who was hopping36 along on his two hands like a wounded field-spider which has but two legs left. At the moment when he passed close to this species of spider with a human countenance37, it raised towards him a lamentable39 voice: "~La buona mancia, signor! la buona mancia~!"*
* Alms.
"Deuce take you," said Gringoire, "and me with you, if I know what you mean!"
And he passed on.
He overtook another of these itinerant41 masses, and examined it. It was an impotent man, both halt and crippled, and halt and crippled to such a degree that the complicated system of crutches42 and wooden legs which sustained him, gave him the air of a mason's scaffolding on the march. Gringoire, who liked noble and classical comparisons, compared him in thought to the living tripod of Vulcan.
This living tripod saluted43 him as he passed, but stopping his hat on a level with Gringoire's chin, like a shaving dish, while he shouted in the latter's ears: "~Senor cabellero, para comprar un pedaso de pan~!"*
* Give me the means to buy a bit of bread, sir.
"It appears," said Gringoire, "that this one can also talk; but 'tis a rude language, and he is more fortunate than I if he understands it." Then, smiting44 his brow, in a sudden transition of ideas: "By the way, what the deuce did they mean this morning with their Esmeralda?"
He was minded to augment45 his pace, but for the third time something barred his way. This something or, rather, some one was a blind man, a little blind fellow with a bearded, Jewish face, who, rowing away in the space about him with a stick, and towed by a large dog, droned through his nose with a Hungarian accent: "~Facitote caritatem~!"
"Well, now," said Gringoire, "here's one at last who speaks a Christian47 tongue. I must have a very charitable aspect, since they ask alms of me in the present lean condition of my purse. My friend," and he turned towards the blind man, "I sold my last shirt last week; that is to say, since you understand only the language of Cicero: ~Vendidi hebdomade nuper transita meam ultimam chemisan~."
That said, he turned his back upon the blind man, and pursued his way. But the blind man began to increase his stride at the same time; and, behold48! the cripple and the legless man, in his bowl, came up on their side in great haste, and with great clamor of bowl and crutches, upon the pavement. Then all three, jostling each other at poor Gringoire's heels, began to sing their song to him,--
"~Caritatem~!" chanted the blind man.
"~La buona mancia~!" chanted the cripple in the bowl.
And the lame40 man took up the musical phrase by repeating: "~Un pedaso de pan~!"
Gringoire stopped up his ears. "Oh, tower of Babel!" he exclaimed.
He set out to run. The blind man ran! The lame man ran! The cripple in the bowl ran!
And then, in proportion as he plunged50 deeper into the street, cripples in bowls, blind men and lame men, swarmed52 about him, and men with one arm, and with one eye, and the leprous with their sores, some emerging from little streets adjacent, some from the air-holes of cellars, howling, bellowing53, yelping54, all limping and halting, all flinging themselves towards the light, and humped up in the mire55, like snails56 after a shower.
Gringoire, still followed by his three persecutors, and not knowing very well what was to become of him, marched along in terror among them, turning out for the lame, stepping over the cripples in bowls, with his feet imbedded in that ant-hill of lame men, like the English captain who got caught in the quicksand of a swarm51 of crabs57.
The idea occurred to him of making an effort to retrace13 his steps. But it was too late. This whole legion had closed in behind him, and his three beggars held him fast. So he proceeded, impelled58 both by this irresistible59 flood, by fear, and by a vertigo60 which converted all this into a sort of horrible dream.
At last he reached the end of the street. It opened upon an immense place, where a thousand scattered61 lights flickered in the confused mists of night. Gringoire flew thither62, hoping to escape, by the swiftness of his legs, from the three infirm spectres who had clutched him.
"~Onde vas, hombre~?" (Where are you going, my man?) cried the cripple, flinging away his crutches, and running after him with the best legs that ever traced a geometrical step upon the pavements of Paris.
In the meantime the legless man, erect63 upon his feet, crowned Gringoire with his heavy iron bowl, and the blind man glared in his face with flaming eyes!
"Where am I?" said the terrified poet.
"In the Court of Miracles," replied a fourth spectre, who had accosted64 them.
"Upon my soul," resumed Gringoire, "I certainly do behold the blind who see, and the lame who walk, but where is the Saviour65?"
They replied by a burst of sinister66 laughter.
The poor poet cast his eyes about him. It was, in truth, that redoubtable67 Cour des Miracles, whither an honest man had never penetrated68 at such an hour; the magic circle where the officers of the Chatelet and the sergeants69 of the provostship, who ventured thither, disappeared in morsels71; a city of thieves, a hideous72 wart73 on the face of Paris; a sewer74, from which escaped every morning, and whither returned every night to crouch75, that stream of vices76, of mendicancy77 and vagabondage which always overflows79 in the streets of capitals; a monstrous80 hive, to which returned at nightfall, with their booty, all the drones of the social order; a lying hospital where the bohemian, the disfrocked monk81, the ruined scholar, the ne'er-do-wells of all nations, Spaniards, Italians, Germans,--of all religions, Jews, Christians82, Mahometans, idolaters, covered with painted sores, beggars by day, were transformed by night into brigands83; an immense dressing-room, in a word, where, at that epoch84, the actors of that eternal comedy, which theft, prostitution, and murder play upon the pavements of Paris, dressed and undressed.
It was a vast place, irregular and badly paved, like all the squares of Paris at that date. Fires, around which swarmed strange groups, blazed here and there. Every one was going, coming, and shouting. Shrill85 laughter was to be heard, the wailing86 of children, the voices of women. The hands and heads of this throng87, black against the luminous88 background, outlined against it a thousand eccentric gestures. At times, upon the ground, where trembled the light of the fires, mingled89 with large, indefinite shadows, one could behold a dog passing, which resembled a man, a man who resembled a dog. The limits of races and species seemed effaced90 in this city, as in a pandemonium91. Men, women, beasts, age, sex, health, maladies, all seemed to be in common among these people; all went together, they mingled, confounded, superposed; each one there participated in all.
The poor and flickering92 flames of the fire permitted Gringoire to distinguish, amid his trouble, all around the immense place, a hideous frame of ancient houses, whose wormeaten, shrivelled, stunted94 fa?ades, each pierced with one or two lighted attic95 windows, seemed to him, in the darkness, like enormous heads of old women, ranged in a circle, monstrous and crabbed96, winking97 as they looked on at the Witches' Sabbath.
It was like a new world, unknown, unheard of, misshapen, creeping, swarming98, fantastic.
Gringoire, more and more terrified, clutched by the three beggars as by three pairs of tongs99, dazed by a throng of other faces which frothed and yelped100 around him, unhappy Gringoire endeavored to summon his presence of mind, in order to recall whether it was a Saturday. But his efforts were vain; the thread of his memory and of his thought was broken; and, doubting everything, wavering between what he saw and what he felt, he put to himself this unanswerable question,--
"If I exist, does this exist? if this exists, do I exist?"
At that moment, a distinct cry arose in the buzzing throng which surrounded him, "Let's take him to the king! let's take him to the king!"
"Holy Virgin!" murmured Gringoire, "the king here must be a ram93."
"To the king! to the king!" repeated all voices.
They dragged him off. Each vied with the other in laying his claws upon him. But the three beggars did not loose their hold and tore him from the rest, howling, "He belongs to us!"
The poet's already sickly doublet yielded its last sigh in this struggle.
While traversing the horrible place, his vertigo vanished. After taking a few steps, the sentiment of reality returned to him. He began to become accustomed to the atmosphere of the place. At the first moment there had arisen from his poet's head, or, simply and prosaically102, from his empty stomach, a mist, a vapor103, so to speak, which, spreading between objects and himself, permitted him to catch a glimpse of them only in the incoherent fog of nightmare,--in those shadows of dreams which distort every outline, agglomerating104 objects into unwieldy groups, dilating105 things into chimeras106, and men into phantoms107. Little by little, this hallucination was succeeded by a less bewildered and exaggerating view. Reality made its way to the light around him, struck his eyes, struck his feet, and demolished108, bit by bit, all that frightful109 poetry with which he had, at first, believed himself to be surrounded. He was forced to perceive that he was not walking in the Styx, but in mud, that he was elbowed not by demons110, but by thieves; 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 man--a 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 ragged34 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 prosaic101 and brutal111 reality of the tavern112. Were we not in the fifteenth century, we would say that Gringoire had descended113 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, haphazard115, no lackey116 of a geometrical turn having deigned117 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 belly118 and a jovial119 face, noisily kissing a woman of the town, thickset and brawny120. There was a sort of sham121 soldier, a "naquois," as the slang expression runs, who was whistling as he undid122 the bandages from his fictitious123 wound, and removing the numbness124 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 lament38 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 foaming125 at the mouth, by chewing a morsel70 of soap. Beside him, a man with the dropsy was getting rid of his swelling126, 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 gallant127 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 dangling128, 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 crouching129 in the mud, almost lost in a cauldron, which he was scraping with a tile, and from which he was evoking130 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 rout131 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 knaves132, in whose grasp he was, and, before he had comprehended the meaning, the other had snatched his hat--a 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,--
Gringoire shuddered135. That voice, although accentuated136 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 thongs137 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 regained138 some hope, on recognizing in the King of the Cour des Miracles his accursed mendicant139 of the Grand Hall.
"Master," stammered140 he; "monseigneur--sire--how ought I to address you?" he said at length, having reached the culminating point of his crescendo141, and knowing neither how to mount higher, nor to descend114 again.
"Monseigneur, his majesty142, 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 displeases143 me." He resumed, stuttering, "I am he, who this morning--"
"By the devil's claws!" interrupted Clopin, "your name, knave133, 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, supreme144 suzerain of the Realm of Argot145; Mathias Hunyadi Spicali, Duke of Egypt and of Bohemia, the old yellow fellow whom you see yonder, with a dish clout146 round his head; Guillaume Rousseau, Emperor of Galilee, that fat fellow who is not listening to us but caressing147 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? Justify148 yourself; announce your titles."
"Alas149!" 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 bourgeois150! as you treat our people in your abode151, 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 grimace152 of an honest man above the hempen153 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 mortar154 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 harangue155 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 prop49 up his table.
"Messeigneurs, emperors, and kings," said Gringoire coolly (for I know not how, firmness had returned to him, and he spoke156 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 you should not be hung this evening?"
"I shall find difficulty in getting out of it," said Gringoire to himself. Nevertheless, he made one more effort: "I don't see why poets are not classed with vagabonds," said he. "Vagabond, Aesopus certainly was; Homerus was a beggar; Mercurius was a thief--"
Clopin interrupted him: "I believe that you are trying to blarney us with your jargon157. Zounds! let yourself be hung, and don't kick up such a row over it!"
"Pardon me, monseigneur, the King of Thunes," replied Gringoire, disputing the ground foot by foot. "It is worth trouble--One moment!--Listen to me--You are not going to condemn158 me without having heard me"--
His unlucky voice was, in fact, drowned in the uproar159 which rose around him. The little boy scraped away at his cauldron with more spirit than ever; and, to crown all, an old woman had just placed on the tripod a frying-pan of grease, which hissed161 away on the fire with a noise similar to the cry of a troop of children in pursuit of a masker.
In the meantime, Clopin Trouillefou appeared to hold a momentary162 conference with the Duke of Egypt, and the Emperor of Galilee, who was completely drunk. Then he shouted shrilly163: "Silence!" and, as the cauldron and the frying-pan did not heed164 him, and continued their duet, he jumped down from his hogshead, gave a kick to the boiler165, which rolled ten paces away bearing the child with it, a kick to the frying-pan, which upset in the fire with all its grease, and gravely remounted his throne, without troubling himself about the stifled166 tears of the child, or the grumbling167 of the old woman, whose supper was wasting away in a fine white flame.
Trouillefou made a sign, and the duke, the emperor, and the passed masters of pickpockets168, and the isolated169 robbers, came and ranged themselves around him in a horseshoe, of which Gringoire, still roughly held by the body, formed the centre. It was a semicircle of rags, tatters, tinsel, pitchforks, axes, legs staggering with intoxication170, huge, bare arms, faces sordid171, dull, and stupid. In the midst of this Round Table of beggary, Clopin Trouillefou,--as the doge of this senate, as the king of this peerage, as the pope of this conclave,-- dominated; first by virtue172 of the height of his hogshead, and next by virtue of an indescribable, haughty173, fierce, and formidable air, which caused his eyes to flash, and corrected in his savage174 profile the bestial175 type of the race of vagabonds. One would have pronounced him a boar amid a herd31 of swine.
"Listen," said he to Gringoire, fondling his misshapen chin with his horny hand; "I don't see why you should not be hung. It is true that it appears to be repugnant to you; and it is very natural, for you bourgeois are not accustomed to it. You form for yourselves a great idea of the thing. After all, we don't wish you any harm. Here is a means of extricating176 yourself from your predicament for the moment. Will you become one of us?"
The reader can judge of the effect which this proposition produced upon Gringoire, who beheld177 life slipping away from him, and who was beginning to lose his hold upon it. He clutched at it again with energy.
"Certainly I will, and right heartily," said he.
"Do you consent," resumed Clopin, "to enroll178 yourself among the people of the knife?"
"Of the knife, precisely," responded Gringoire.
"You recognize yourself as a member of the free bourgeoisie?"* added the King of Thunes.
* A high-toned sharper.
"Of the free bourgeoisie."
"Subject of the Kingdom of Argot?"
"Of the Kingdom of Argot*."
* Thieves.
"A vagabond?"
"A vagabond."
"In your soul?"
"In my soul."
"I must call your attention to the fact," continued the king, "that you will be hung all the same."
"The devil!" said the poet.
"Only," continued Clopin imperturbably179, "you will be hung later on, with more ceremony, at the expense of the good city of Paris, on a handsome stone gibbet, and by honest men. That is a consolation180."
"Just so," responded Gringoire.
"There are other advantages. In your quality of a high-toned sharper, you will not have to pay the taxes on mud, or the poor, or lanterns, to which the bourgeois of Paris are subject."
"So be it," said the poet. "I agree. I am a vagabond, a thief, a sharper, a man of the knife, anything you please; and I am all that already, monsieur, King of Thunes, for I am a philosopher; ~et omnia in philosophia, omnes in philosopho continentur~,--all things are contained in philosophy, all men in the philosopher, as you know."
The King of Thunes scowled181.
"What do you take me for, my friend? What Hungarian Jew patter are you jabbering182 at us? I don't know Hebrew. One isn't a Jew because one is a bandit. I don't even steal any longer. I'm above that; I kill. Cut-throat, yes; cutpurse, no."
Gringoire tried to slip in some excuse between these curt183 words, which wrath184 rendered more and more jerky.
"I ask your pardon, monseigneur. It is not Hebrew; 'tis Latin."
"I tell you," resumed Clopin angrily, "that I'm not a Jew, and that I'll have you hung, belly of the synagogue, like that little shopkeeper of Judea, who is by your side, and whom I entertain strong hopes of seeing nailed to a counter one of these days, like the counterfeit185 coin that he is!"
So saying, he pointed186 his finger at the little, bearded Hungarian Jew who had accosted Gringoire with his ~facitote caritatem~, and who, understanding no other language beheld with surprise the King of Thunes's ill-humor overflow78 upon him.
At length Monsieur Clopin calmed down.
"So you will be a vagabond, you knave?" he said to our poet.
"Of course," replied the poet.
"Willing is not all," said the surly Clopin; "good will doesn't put one onion the more into the soup, and 'tis good for nothing except to go to Paradise with; now, Paradise and the thieves' band are two different things. In order to be received among the thieves,* you must prove that you are good for something, and for that purpose, you must search the manikin."
* L'argot.
"I'll search anything you like," said Gringoire.
Clopin made a sign. Several thieves detached themselves from the circle, and returned a moment later. They brought two thick posts, terminated at their lower extremities187 in spreading timber supports, which made them stand readily upon the ground; to the upper extremity of the two posts they fitted a cross-beam, and the whole constituted a very pretty portable gibbet, which Gringoire had the satisfaction of beholding188 rise before him, in a twinkling. Nothing was lacking, not even the rope, which swung gracefully189 over the cross-beam.
"What are they going to do?" Gringoire asked himself with some uneasiness. A sound of bells, which he heard at that moment, put an end to his anxiety; it was a stuffed manikin, which the vagabonds were suspending by the neck from the rope, a sort of scarecrow dressed in red, and so hung with mule-bells and larger bells, that one might have tricked out thirty Castilian mules190 with them. These thousand tiny bells quivered for some time with the vibration191 of the rope, then gradually died away, and finally became silent when the manikin had been brought into a state of immobility by that law of the pendulum192 which has dethroned the water clock and the hour-glass. Then Clopin, pointing out to Gringoire a rickety old stool placed beneath the manikin,-- "Climb up there."
"Death of the devil!" objected Gringoire; "I shall break my neck. Your stool limps like one of Martial's distiches; it has one hexameter leg and one pentameter leg."
"Climb!" repeated Clopin.
Gringoire mounted the stool, and succeeded, not without some oscillations of head and arms, in regaining193 his centre of gravity.
"Now," went on the King of Thunes, "twist your right foot round your left leg, and rise on the tip of your left foot."
"Monseigneur," said Gringoire, "so you absolutely insist on my breaking some one of my limbs?"
Clopin tossed his head.
"Hark ye, my friend, you talk too much. Here's the gist194 of the matter in two words: you are to rise on tiptoe, as I tell you; in that way you will be able to reach the pocket of the manikin, you will rummage195 it, you will pull out the purse that is there,--and if you do all this without our hearing the sound of a bell, all is well: you shall be a vagabond. All we shall then have to do, will be to thrash you soundly for the space of a week."
"~Ventre-Dieu~! I will be careful," said Gringoire. "And suppose I do make the bells sound?"
"Then you will be hanged. Do you understand?"
"I don't understand at all," replied Gringoire.
"Listen, once more. You are to search the manikin, and take away its purse; if a single bell stirs during the operation, you will be hung. Do you understand that?"
"Good," said Gringoire; "I understand that. And then?"
"If you succeed in removing the purse without our hearing the bells, you are a vagabond, and you will be thrashed for eight consecutive196 days. You understand now, no doubt?"
"No, monseigneur; I no longer understand. Where is the advantage to me? hanged in one case, cudgelled in the other?"
"And a vagabond," resumed Clopin, "and a vagabond; is that nothing? It is for your interest that we should beat you, in order to harden you to blows."
"Many thanks," replied the poet.
"Come, make haste," said the king, stamping upon his cask, which resounded197 like a huge drum! Search the manikin, and let there be an end to this! I warn you for the last time, that if I hear a single bell, you will take the place of the manikin."
The band of thieves applauded Clopin's words, and arranged themselves in a circle round the gibbet, with a laugh so pitiless that Gringoire perceived that he amused them too much not to have everything to fear from them. No hope was left for him, accordingly, unless it were the slight chance of succeeding in the formidable operation which was imposed upon him; he decided198 to risk it, but it was not without first having addressed a fervent199 prayer to the manikin he was about to plunder200, and who would have been easier to move to pity than the vagabonds. These myriad201 bells, with their little copper202 tongues, seemed to him like the mouths of so many asps, open and ready to sting and to hiss160.
"Oh!" he said, in a very low voice, "is it possible that my life depends on the slightest vibration of the least of these bells? Oh!" he added, with clasped hands, "bells, do not ring, hand-bells do not clang, mule-bells do not quiver!"
He made one more attempt upon Trouillefou.
"And if there should come a gust203 of wind?"
"You will be hanged," replied the other, without hesitation204.
Perceiving that no respite205, nor reprieve206, nor subterfuge207 was possible, he bravely decided upon his course of action; he wound his right foot round his left leg, raised himself on his left foot, and stretched out his arm: but at the moment when his hand touched the manikin, his body, which was now supported upon one leg only, wavered on the stool which had but three; he made an involuntary effort to support himself by the manikin, lost his balance, and fell heavily to the ground, deafened208 by the fatal vibration of the thousand bells of the manikin, which, yielding to the impulse imparted by his hand, described first a rotary209 motion, and then swayed majestically210 between the two posts.
"Malediction211!" he cried as he fell, and remained as though dead, with his face to the earth.
Meanwhile, he heard the dreadful peal212 above his head, the diabolical213 laughter of the vagabonds, and the voice of Trouillefou saying,--
"Pick me up that knave, and hang him without ceremony." He rose. They had already detached the manikin to make room for him.
The thieves made him mount the stool, Clopin came to him, passed the rope about his neck, and, tapping him on the shoulder,--
"Adieu, my friend. You can't escape now, even if you digested with the pope's guts214."
The word "Mercy!" died away upon Gringoire's lips. He cast his eyes about him; but there was no hope: all were laughing.
"Bellevigne de l'Etoile," said the King of Thunes to an enormous vagabond, who stepped out from the ranks, "climb upon the cross beam."
Bellevigne de l'Etoile nimbly mounted the transverse beam, and in another minute, Gringoire, on raising his eyes, beheld him, with terror, seated upon the beam above his head.
"Now," resumed Clopin Trouillefou, "as soon as I clap my hands, you, Andry the Red, will fling the stool to the ground with a blow of your knee; you, Fran?ois Chante-Prune, will cling to the feet of the rascal215; and you, Bellevigne, will fling yourself on his shoulders; and all three at once, do you hear?"
Gringoire shuddered.
"Are you ready?" said Clopin Trouillefou to the three thieves, who held themselves in readiness to fall upon Gringoire. A moment of horrible suspense216 ensued for the poor victim, during which Clopin tranquilly217 thrust into the fire with the tip of his foot, some bits of vine shoots which the flame had not caught. "Are you ready?" he repeated, and opened his hands to clap. One second more and all would have been over.
But he paused, as though struck by a sudden thought.
"One moment!" said he; "I forgot! It is our custom not to hang a man without inquiring whether there is any woman who wants him. Comrade, this is your last resource. You must wed46 either a female vagabond or the noose218."
This law of the vagabonds, singular as it may strike the reader, remains219 to-day written out at length, in ancient English legislation. (See _Burington's Observations_.)
Gringoire breathed again. This was the second time that he had returned to life within an hour. So he did not dare to trust to it too implicitly220.
"Holà!" cried Clopin, mounted once more upon his cask, "holà! women, females, is there among you, from the sorceress to her cat, a wench who wants this rascal? Holà, Colette la Charonne! Elisabeth Trouvain! Simone Jodouyne! Marie Piédebou! Thonne la Longue! Bérarde Fanouel! Michelle Genaille! Claude Ronge-oreille! Mathurine Girorou!--Holà! Isabeau-la-Thierrye! Come and see! A man for nothing! Who wants him?"
Gringoire, no doubt, was not very appetizing in this miserable221 condition. The female vagabonds did not seem to be much affected222 by the proposition. The unhappy wretch35 heard them answer: "No! no! hang him; there'll be the more fun for us all!"
Nevertheless, three emerged from the throng and came to smell of him. The first was a big wench, with a square face. She examined the philosopher's deplorable doublet attentively223. His garment was worn, and more full of holes than a stove for roasting chestnuts224. The girl made a wry225 face. "Old rag!" she muttered, and addressing Gringoire, "Let's see your cloak!" "I have lost it," replied Gringoire. "Your hat?" "They took it away from me." "Your shoes?" "They have hardly any soles left." "Your purse?" "Alas!" stammered Gringoire, "I have not even a sou." "Let them hang you, then, and say 'Thank you!'" retorted the vagabond wench, turning her back on him.
The second,--old, black, wrinkled, hideous, with an ugliness conspicuous226 even in the Cour des Miracles, trotted227 round Gringoire. He almost trembled lest she should want him. But she mumbled228 between her teeth, "He's too thin," and went off.
The third was a young girl, quite fresh, and not too ugly. "Save me!" said the poor fellow to her, in a low tone. She gazed at him for a moment with an air of pity, then dropped her eyes, made a plait in her petticoat, and remained in indecision. He followed all these movements with his eyes; it was the last gleam of hope. "No," said the young girl, at length, "no! Guillaume Longuejoue would beat me." She retreated into the crowd.
"You are unlucky, comrade," said Clopin.
Then rising to his feet, upon his hogshead. "No one wants him," he exclaimed, imitating the accent of an auctioneer, to the great delight of all; "no one wants him? once, twice, three times!" and, turning towards the gibbet with a sign of his hand, "Gone!"
Bellevigne de l'Etoile, Andry the Red, Fran?ois Chante-Prune, stepped up to Gringoire.
At that moment a cry arose among the thieves: "La Esmeralda! La Esmeralda!"
Gringoire shuddered, and turned towards the side whence the clamor proceeded.
The crowd opened, and gave passage to a pure and dazzling form.
It was the gypsy.
"La Esmeralda!" said Gringoire, stupefied in the midst of his emotions, by the abrupt229 manner in which that magic word knotted together all his reminiscences of the day.
This rare creature seemed, even in the Cour des Miracles, to exercise her sway of charm and beauty. The vagabonds, male and female, ranged themselves gently along her path, and their brutal faces beamed beneath her glance.
She approached the victim with her light step. Her pretty Djali followed her. Gringoire was more dead than alive. She examined him for a moment in silence.
"You are going to hang this man?" she said gravely, to Clopin.
"Yes, sister," replied the King of Thunes, "unless you will take him for your husband."
She made her pretty little pout230 with her under lip. "I'll take him," said she.
Gringoire firmly believed that he had been in a dream ever since morning, and that this was the continuation of it.
The change was, in fact, violent, though a gratifying one. They undid the noose, and made the poet step down from the stool. His emotion was so lively that he was obliged to sit down.
The Duke of Egypt brought an earthenware231 crock, without uttering a word. The gypsy offered it to Gringoire: "Fling it on the ground," said she.
The crock broke into four pieces.
"Brother," then said the Duke of Egypt, laying his hands upon their foreheads, "she is your wife; sister, he is your husband for four years. Go."
甘果瓦拼命地跑了一阵，他不知自己在什么地方，脑袋磕碰在好多拐角上，跌进好几条阴沟，跨过许多街道、许多胡同以及许多十字路口。他想要从菜市场那些曲折的旧石板路中间寻找一条通路，在慌乱中他还在探索“道路、以及和道路有关的”这几个绝妙的拉丁字到底是什么意思。我们的诗人忽然停步，喘息了一会，随后就被突然想起的一种两点论抓住了。他用手指按着额头说道：“甘果瓦阁下，我看你是象个冒失鬼一样在那儿乱跑。那些小家伙害怕你可一点不亚于你害怕他们呢。我告诉你，我觉得你向北边逃跑的时候，一定听见他们那些穿木屐的脚在向南边逃跑。反正不出下面的两种情况：要么是孩子们逃掉，他们在惊慌里忘记带走的草席，正好成为你今天一早起就到处跑着去找寻的救济床。圣母把它送给你，用来报答你凭她的光荣而胜利地完成的一出热闹的圣迹剧。要么孩子们没有逃走，却把草席烧起来，那就正是你所需要的一堆好火，给你烤暖身子，烘干衣服，让你高兴。
在这两种情况里，不管是好床还是好火，总之草席是天赐的呀。莫贡赛耶街角上好心的圣母玛丽亚也许就是为了这个原因才让厄斯达谢·慕邦死掉的，而你却这样拔腿飞跑，象庇卡底人逃避法国人似的，倒把你一直在寻找的东西丢在背后。你真疯了！你真是个笨蛋！”
于是他掉转脚步，一面确定方向，一面开始寻找，耳朵鼻子都留神着，尽力要找回那床幸运的草席。可是白费力气。四周是一些错杂的房屋和死胡同，他在那里始终犹豫不决。这些黑暗的街巷，比杜尔内尔大厦那座迷宫还令人狼狈和迷惑，他终于失掉了耐性，气呼呼地嚷道：“这些街巷真可恶！
简直是魔鬼照着他那铁叉的式样修建的！”
这声叫嚷使他稍稍松了一口气，这时他看见一条长巷的尽头有一道通红的火光，他终于振作起精神。“赞美上帝！”他说，“它在那边呢！那是我的草席在燃烧呢！”他把自己比成夜间翻了船的水手，虔诚地补充道，“敬礼，圣母的星光！”
他这句赞美诗是向着圣母的还是向着草席的呢？我们可就不得而知了。
在长巷里走了不多几步——长巷弯弯曲曲，没铺石板，越走越显得泥泞和倾斜——，他发现了一桩奇怪的事情，原来这条长巷并非没有行人，沿途有成群的人，看不清，模糊一片，都在向着长巷尽头处那摇晃的火光移动，好象一群笨拙的昆虫，夜里从一根草向另一根草，朝着牧童的火光爬着一样。
没有什么比袋里没钱更能使人敢于冒险的了，甘果瓦继续前进，不多一会就走到了一个象爬虫似的懒洋洋地跟在别人身后拖着步子的人身边。再走近了些，他才看出那不过是一个可怜的没脚的人，在用两只手跳着走，就象一只仅仅剩下了两条前腿的蜘蛛。当他走到这只人面蜘蛛的跟前时，人面蜘蛛就用一种悲切的声音对他嚷道：“行行好吧，老爷，行行好吧！”
“让魔鬼抓你去！”甘果瓦说，“把我也同你一道抓去，要是我懂得你的话是什么意思！”
他远远地走开了。
他走到一群移动的人里，到了另一个人的身边，仔细打量起来。那是一个双重残废的人，是个跛子，又是独臂，他的拐杖和木腿使他象走动着的泥瓦匠的脚手架一样。以优美的古典比喻见长的甘果瓦，把他比成乌尔冈的活动三角架。
这只活动三角架在他走过时向他脱帽行礼，并把帽子象理发师的盘子似的举到他的下巴底下，对着他的耳朵喊道：“骑士先生，给点钱买块面包吧！”
“好象这个人也在和我说话呢，”甘果瓦说，“但是这种语言很不好懂。
要是他懂这种语言，那他可比我幸运。”
随后他忽然念头一转，拍拍自己的额头说：“那么，他们今天早上说的‘拉·爱斯梅拉达’是什么意思呢？”
他想加快脚步，可是又有什么东西第三次挡住他的路。这个什么“东西”，或者不如说这个什么“人”原来是个瞎子，是个长着胡子、面孔象犹太人的小个儿，由于一条大狗朝着他乱吠，他正在向四周挥动着一根棍子。那人用匈牙利人的鼻音向他喊道：“请行行好吧！”
“好啦！”甘果瓦说，“总算有个说基督徒的语言的人了！在我这样囊空如洗的当儿，我应该对向我求乞的人装出一副乐善好施的样子。我的朋友（同时他朝那瞎子回过头去），我上礼拜刚卖掉了我最后的一件衬衣呢。这就是说，你们是只懂西塞罗的语言的：‘我上礼拜刚卖掉了我最后的一件衬衣呢。’”
说完他就背朝着那个瞎子，继续走他的路。可是那瞎子也和他一块儿迈步，同时那另外两个残废人——没脚人和断胳膊人，也急急忙忙拖着拐杖，拐着木腿走到了他身边。于是三个人合在一起紧跟着甘果瓦，向他唱起来：“行行好吧！”瞎子唱道。
“慈悲慈悲吧！”没脚人唱道。
那个跛子便重复这句唱词：“给一块面包吧！”
甘果瓦捂上耳朵：“啊呀，这真是座巴别塔！”
他拔腿就跑。瞎子也在跑，跛子也在跑，没脚人也跑了起来。
随后，他刚走进了那条街，没脚人就同瞎子、跛子一道把他围上了。从几所房舍里，从附近的小巷和地窖里，又走出一些断胳膊人、独眼人和麻风病人，他们号着，吼着，喊着，慢慢地一拐一拐地向光亮处跑来，满身泥污，活象雨后的蜗牛。
一直被那三个讨厌鬼跟着的甘果瓦，不十分清楚究竟这种情况还会变成什么样子，他惊慌地走在这些陌生人中间，一会儿擦过那些跛子，一会儿碰着那些没脚人，一会儿又踏着那些腿受伤的人，真象是一位英国船长被困在一堆暗礁当中。
他想试着逃跑，可是太晚了，他身后的路被堵得水泄不通。那三个乞丐紧紧地缠着他，于是他继续向前走，被那难以抵挡的浪潮推动着，恐惧和昏乱使他觉得一切仿佛是在一个可怕的梦里。
终于到达了那条街的尽头。街尽头是一个大广场，那儿有千万点光亮在蒙蒙的夜雾里摇晃。甘果瓦连忙跑到广场上去，希望轻快的脚步能帮助他逃脱三个紧跟着他的乞丐。
“人哪儿去哪？”跛子丢掉了拐杖，一面喊一面用从前在巴黎石板路上迈过几何形步子的两条好腿在甘果瓦身后跑步追来。
同时那个没脚人直立起来，把他那沉重的铁皮包边的瓦钵扣在甘果瓦头顶上，那个瞎子用亮晶晶的双眼直瞪瞪地瞧着他的脸。
“我是在什么地方呀？”骇坏了的诗人问。
“在圣迹区。”走到那三个人跟前来的第四个幽灵回答道。
“的确是奇迹！”甘果瓦说，“我真的看见了睁眼的瞎子，跑步的跛子。
可是上帝在哪儿呀？”
他们用一片可怖的笑声来回答。
可怜的诗人向四周观看，他的确是在那骇人的圣迹区里，诚实的人从来不敢在那样晚的时刻闯进去。它是个魔法的圈子，沙特雷法庭的官儿们和总督府的官儿们假若冒险去到那个地方，就会悄悄地失踪。它是小偷的地区，是巴黎脸上一颗难看的瘤子，它是一条阴沟，奔泻的水每天早上从那儿流出，晚上就把那些经常浪荡在首都街头的无赖汉、乞丐和流浪人臭气熏天地送回那里。它是一个大蜂窝，那个秩序井然的社会里全体雄蜂每天都带着赃物回到那里。它是一个欺诈病院，那里有波希米亚人、还俗的修道士、失意的学者；有各种不同国籍的人：西班牙人、意大利人、德意志人；有各种不同宗教的人：犹太教徒、基督教徒、回教徒和偶像崇拜者。他们全身盖满了用彩色颜料画出来的脓疮，白天是乞丐，晚上就变成强盗。总之它是个庞大的更衣室，那个时代巴黎街道上一切盗窃、卖淫和暗杀案件这类永恒喜剧的扮演人，都是在那里上装和卸装的。
这是一片很大的空地，形状不规则，铺砌得也不好，象那时巴黎所有的广场一样。到处燃着一堆堆篝火，成群奇形怪状的人围在火边取暖，他们来来去去，喊嚷不停。听得见高声的大笑，小孩的啼哭和妇女的声音。在明亮的背景上，这群人的脑袋和胳膊形成种种奇怪的黑影。在地面上，摇晃的火光把它照出好些大块的不定形的阴影，经常可以看见一条象男人似的狗或者一个象狗似的男人经过。种族和地区的界限，在这个地方就象在群魔殿里一样都给抹掉了。男女、禽兽、年龄、性别、健康、疾病在这群人里仿佛是共同的，一切都合在一起，混在一起，搅在一起，叠在一起，大家都有福同享，有难同当。
不管甘果瓦是多么烦恼，摇摇晃晃的微弱火光还是使他看得清这宽广的空地的周围，看见一些已被虫蛀坏了的老房子正面的可怕轮廓，每座房子都开了一两个有亮光的天窗，那些房子在黑暗里看去就象是排成一圈的老妇人的大脑袋，睁着眼睛在望着魔鬼的安息日会。
这地方又象是一个没人看见过或听说过的畸形的、拥挤的，奇特的新世界。
甘果瓦被那三个乞丐抓住，象被三把钳子钳住一样，他的耳朵被另一群人的吵嚷震聋了，使他愈来愈惊惶失措。甘果瓦尝试着重新打起精神，想一想那天是不是礼拜六。但他的努力都白费了，他的记忆和思想的线索已经断了，他一面在怀疑一切，一面在看到的和感到的事物之间飘飘忽忽，他向自己提出了这个难以解答的问题： “假若我是真的，这是怎么回事？假若这是真的，那我又是怎么回事？”
正在这时，在包围他的闹嚷人群中发出了一声清楚的呼喊：“带他见大王去！带他见大王去！”
“圣母在上！”甘果瓦喃喃地说，“这地方的大王，那大约是一只公山羊吧！”
“去见大王！去见大王！”所有的声音都重复地喊。
人们拖他拽他，有的把手伸到他身上。但那三个乞丐不肯放松他，他们把他从那些人手里拉开，一面嘶声喊道：“他是我们的呀！”
诗人那件本来就很破的上衣，在这次争夺中完全被撕成碎片了。
穿过那骇人的空地时，他的昏晕已经给赶跑了，走了几步之后他就恢复了真实的感觉。他开始能适应那地方的气氛了。起初，从他那诗人的头脑里（那里或许一切都简单而平庸），从他那空空的胃里升起了一股烟——也可以说是一层雾气——笼罩在他和其他事物之间，他只能在不连贯的梦魇的迷雾中，只能在梦境的深渊里，朝它们稍稍瞟上一眼。在那梦魇里，一切轮廓仿佛都在颤抖，一切形象仿佛都在狞笑，一切事物仿佛都在堆叠，物体膨胀得有如龙蛇狮虎，人们膨胀得有如妖魔鬼怪。渐渐地，这种幻觉又变成了不那么错乱、不那么夸张的景象。现实使一切都真象大白，照亮了他四周的一切，刺痛他的眼睛，踏痛他的双脚，把他起先以为是围绕着他的可怕的文学的想象一一撕毁了。他不能不看出他并非行走在黄泉路上，而是走在泥泞当中，并不是被魔鬼们推拥着，而是被小偷们推拥着，走到了那里的并不是他的灵魂，而是他真实的生命（这是由于他缺少盗贼与诚实人之间的重要联系 ——钱包）。更贴近些，更冷静些观察那个地带时，他终于从魔鬼们的安息日会跌落到了酒店里。
圣迹区其实只不过是一个酒店，但它是强盗们的酒店，一切都染上了血和酒的红色。
当他的破衣烂衫的护送人终于把他送到了目的地的时候，映入他眼中的景象并没有把他带回诗的境界，而是带到了地狱诗篇的境界，这是酒店那空前粗暴而缺乏诗意的现实世界。假若我们的放事不是发生在十五世纪，我们就会说甘果瓦是从米盖朗琪罗那里降到了卡罗那里。
在一个巨大的圆形石板上燃烧着一堆大火，火舌从一只空的三角架上伸出来，在这堆火的周围随便乱放着几张蛀坏了的桌子。那个安排桌子的人并没有用起码的几何学常识把它们排列起来，或者至少要留心不让它们那些经常不用的角互相交错。有几只流着葡萄酒和麦芽酒的瓶子在那几张桌子上发亮。瓶子周围聚集着许多人，由于火同酒，他们的脸已经变成了紫红色。有一个脸色快活的大肚皮男人粗鲁地拥抱着一个笨拙肥胖的妓女。一个假扮的士兵——或者用他们的黑话说，一个诡诈的人物——打着口哨从他那伪装的伤口上解下绷带，搓揉着从早上起就绑着许多布条的强壮的膝盖。他身后有一个病鬼正在准备牛油和牛血，以便明天涂到他那“天赐”的腿上。较远的两张桌子上，有个穿着整套香客服装的骗子正在唱“神圣女王”的哀诉，但并没忘记用鼻音。另一处有个年轻的无赖汉在向一个老浪子请教如何装癫痫病，那老浪子就把技艺传授给他，叫他含一片肥皂在嘴里，弄出泡沫来。他旁边有一个假装患水肿病的人正在弄平他身上的肿胀，使得四五个正在那张桌上为了当晚偷来的一个小孩而争吵的女骗子连忙捏住鼻子。正象两个世纪以后的索瓦尔所说，所有这些情景“在宫廷中显得如此可笑，于是就成为国王的消遣，成为一出名叫‘黑夜’的芭蕾舞剧的前奏曲，这出舞剧分成四部分在小波旁宫的戏台上演出。”有个看过那场演出的人在一六五三年补充说：“圣迹区的突然变形法从来还没有象那次那样好的被表演出来。关于此事彭斯拉德还给我们写过几行相当优美的诗呢。”
到处响着粗鲁的笑声和放浪的歌声，每个人自管自地笑骂和评论着，不去听旁边的人在说什么。瓶子给打翻了，于是引起了关于瓶子的破片碰着了谁的争吵，而破瓶子又把破衣服挂得更破。
一条大狗用后腿坐在那里望着火。几个孩子也参与了这个宴会。那个偷来的小孩哭闹着；另外一个四岁的胖男孩两腿悬空地坐在一条很高的长凳上一声不吭，桌子齐到了他的下巴底下；还有一个正在用手指头把蜡烛上流下来的油一本正经地往桌上涂抹；最后是一个蹲在烂泥里的小家伙，他正在用瓦片刮着一只大汤锅，身子几乎都钻进锅里去了。他那刮东西的响声简直可以把斯特拉第瓦瑞阿斯吓昏过去。
火边有一只大桶，上面站着一个乞丐，那就是乞丐王在他的宝座上。
那三个把甘果瓦据为己有的人把他领到了大桶跟前。除了那个小孩依旧刮着大汤锅之外，这五花八门的人群安静了一会。
甘果瓦不敢出气也不敢抬一抬眼睛。
“家伙，脱帽呀！”据有他的那三人中的一个说。
他还役听懂这句话是什么意思，另一个就替他脱下了帽子。那的确是一顶破帽，不过在大太阳或下雨的日子还是有用的。甘果瓦叹了一口气。
这时，那高高站在大桶上的大王对他讲话了。
“这家伙是个什么人？”
甘果瓦发抖了。这个带点恫吓的声音，使他记起了那天早晨给他的圣迹剧头一个打击的声音，那个曾经在观众中间喊“请行行好吧！”的声音。他抬头观看，那人的确是克洛潘·图意弗。
克洛潘·图意弗挂着王徽，衣服上的补丁并不比平常多一块或者少一块。
他胳膊上的创伤已经不见了，他手里拿着白皮条的鞭子，就是当时的法庭执达吏们用来赶开人群的，被称之为“赶人鞭”的那一种。他戴着一顶又高又紧的帽子，很难看清楚它是环形帽沿突出的儿童帽呢还是一顶王冠，因为这两者是十分相似的。
认出了这个圣迹区的大王就是司法宫大厅里那个可恶的乞丐，甘果瓦不知为何又觉得有了点希望。
“阁下，”他结结巴巴地说道，“大人……老爷……，我该怎样称呼您呀？”他终于用最高的嗓音呼唤道，而且不知怎样才能再高声些或再低声些。
“大人，陛下，或者同志，你愿意怎样称呼我就怎样称呼吧。可是得赶快。你要怎样替你自己辩护？”
“为自己辩护！”甘果瓦想道，“我才不高兴那样呢。”他结结巴巴地补充道：“我就是那个今天早上……”
“让魔鬼用爪子把你抓去！”克洛潘打断了他，“只要通报你的姓名就行了。恶棍，不用多罗唆，听着，你是当着三位统治者的面：我本人，克洛潘·图意弗，是土恩之王，黑话王国的最高统治者，大加约斯的继承人；他是埃及和波希米亚的公爵马蒂亚斯·韩加蒂·斯比加里；正在安慰身边的娼妓没听我们说话的那个胖子，是加利利的皇帝居约姆·卢梭。我们是你的审判官。你并不是会说黑话的人，却闯入了黑话王国，你盗用了我们这个区域的特权。既然你不是一个胆小鬼、三只手或者沿街遊荡的人，也就是你们那些良民所谓的小偷、叫化子和流浪汉，你就应该受处分。你是不是这一类人呢？证明你自己吧，陈述你的身分吧！”
“哎！”甘果瓦回答，“我可没有那份荣幸。我就是作家……”
“够了，”图意弗不让他把话讲完就说道，“一定得把你绞死。事情很简单，正派的先生们！我们要象你们对付我们的人一样来对付你们的人了！
你们用在乞丐流氓身上的法律，乞丐也要用在你们身上。这不好受，那可是你们的过错。得让我们看看一个好人怎样在麻绳活结里不断地露出牙齿做怪脸，这就会使事情变得光采。来呀，朋友，你要高高兴兴把你的衣服分给这些妇女。我要命令绞死你，好让乞丐们开开心，你得把你的钱包送给他们买酒喝。要是你想举行个仪式，那边地窖里有个石像，是我们从圣比埃尔·俄·倍甫教堂偷来的。你可以去向它祷告五分钟。”
这个通知是可怕的。
“讲得好呀，千真万确！克洛潘·图意弗好象圣父教皇在讲道呢！”加利利的皇帝喊道，一面把他的酒瓶摔破，用来把桌子垫高。
“皇帝和国王大人们，”甘果瓦冷静地说，（他不知怎么又恢复了勇气，说得很坚决，）“你们别那么想，我名叫比埃尔·甘果瓦，我就是那个诗人，今天早上在司法宫大厅还演出过我写的那出圣迹剧。”
“啊，原来是你呀，阁下！”克洛潘说，“当时我也在场呢，凭上帝的脑袋作证！呀，伙计，难道因为你今天早上曾经使我们厌烦，倒成了你今天晚上不给绞死的理由吗？”
“我很难逃脱了，”甘果瓦想道，但他还是想再作一番努力，再试一试。
“我不懂为什么诗人们就不能当叫化子，伊索就当过流浪人，荷马就当过叫化子，麦丘利也当过小偷……”
克洛潘打断了他的话说：“我明白你是想拿些难懂的词儿来作弄我们。
皇天在上！得绞死你，不用多罗唆！”
“请原谅，土恩大王大人，”甘果瓦回答，他一步一步地夺取阵地，“用不着那么费事……稍等一会……听我说……你不能不听我说就给我定罪呀……”
实际上，他那凄凉的声音完全被周围的一片闹嚷声盖住了。那个小顽童用空前未有的狂热把那只汤锅刮得震天响，好象这还不够，又走过来一个老太婆，放了一只装满油的锅在那个火热的三角架上，油锅在火上发出了象一大群儿童在假面人身后追着叫喊的响声。
同时，克洛潘·图意弗似乎同那埃及公爵和加利利皇帝商量了一阵，那皇帝已经喝得烂醉如泥。随后他高声喊道：“肃静！”汤锅和油锅不听他吩咐，还继续在那儿合奏，于是他便从桶上跳下来，朝汤锅踢了一脚，汤锅和小顽童一齐滚到了十步开外，他又朝油锅踢了一脚，油锅里的油完全翻倒在火上了。这之后他庄严地重新走上他的宝座，不管那顽童要闭气似的哭号和那老妇人的抱怨，她的晚餐已经变成漂亮的白色火焰啦。
图意弗做了个手势，于是公爵、皇帝、要人和假香客们走来围着他排列成一个马蹄形，仍然被牢牢抓住的甘果瓦，正在那半圆圈的正当中。那个半圆圈里尽是补丁、破布、金箔，尽是铁耙、小斧头，尽是光腿和光胳膊，尽是肮脏、憔悴、蠢笨的脸孔。在那破衣烂衫的人们的圆桌会的中央，克洛潘·图意弗就象是这个元老院的总督，这个部落的酋长，主持这个秘密会议的教皇一样。他引起所有的人的敬畏，首先是由于那高高的木桶，其次是由于某种崇高的神态，既凶猛又可怕，使他的两眼炯炯发光。他粗犷的轮廓改正了流浪民族的那种近乎兽类的模样，可以说是猪群中的一个猪头。
“听着，”他用粗硬的手抚摸着甘果瓦消瘦的下巴说，“我看不出你怎么能够不给绞死。真的，这似乎让你不高兴，那也很简单，你们这些市民们，你们对绞刑是不习惯的，把它当成一桩大事。无论如何，我们对你并没有什么恶意。这儿还有个办法能使你马上摆脱。你愿意参加我们一伙吗？”
你可以想象这个建议对
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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intersections
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| n.横断( intersection的名词复数 )；交叉；交叉点；交集 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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medley
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| n.混合 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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elevation
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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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situated
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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smiting
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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augment
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| vt.(使)增大，增加，增长，扩张 | |
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46
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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47
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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48
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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49
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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50
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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51
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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52
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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53
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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54
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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55
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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56
snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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57
crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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60
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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61
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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62
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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63
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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64
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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65
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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66
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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67
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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68
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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69
sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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70
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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71
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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72
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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73
wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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74
sewer
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| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
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75
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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76
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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77
mendicancy
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| n.乞丐，托钵，行乞修道士 | |
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78
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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79
overflows
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| v.溢出，淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 )；充满；挤满了人；扩展出界，过度延伸 | |
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80
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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81
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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82
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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83
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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84
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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85
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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86
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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87
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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88
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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89
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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90
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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91
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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92
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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93
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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94
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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95
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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96
crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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98
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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99
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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100
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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102
prosaically
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| adv.无聊地；乏味地；散文式地；平凡地 | |
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103
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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104
agglomerating
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|
| adj.附聚的v.（使）聚集( agglomerate的现在分词 )；（使）聚结；（使）凝聚；（使）结块 | |
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105
dilating
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| v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的现在分词 ) | |
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106
chimeras
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| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
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107
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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108
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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109
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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110
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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111
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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112
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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113
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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114
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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115
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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116
lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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117
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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119
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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120
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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121
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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122
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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123
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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124
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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125
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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126
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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127
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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128
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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129
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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130
evoking
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| 产生，引起，唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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131
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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132
knaves
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| n.恶棍，无赖( knave的名词复数 )；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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133
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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134
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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135
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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136
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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137
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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138
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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139
mendicant
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| n.乞丐；adj.行乞的 | |
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140
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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142
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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143
displeases
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| 冒犯，使生气，使不愉快( displease的第三人称单数 ) | |
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144
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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145
argot
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| n.隐语，黑话 | |
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146
clout
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| n.用手猛击；权力，影响力 | |
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147
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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148
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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149
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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150
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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151
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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152
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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153
hempen
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| adj. 大麻制的, 大麻的 | |
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154
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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155
harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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156
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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157
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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158
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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159
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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160
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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161
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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162
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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163
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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164
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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165
boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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166
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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167
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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168
pickpockets
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| n.扒手( pickpocket的名词复数 ) | |
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169
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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170
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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171
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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172
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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173
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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174
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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175
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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176
extricating
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的现在分词 ) | |
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177
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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178
enroll
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| v.招收；登记；入学；参军；成为会员（英)enrol | |
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179
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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180
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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181
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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182
jabbering
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| v.急切而含混不清地说( jabber的现在分词 )；急促兴奋地说话；结结巴巴 | |
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183
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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184
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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185
counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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186
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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187
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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188
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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189
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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190
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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191
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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192
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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193
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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194
gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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195
rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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196
consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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197
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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198
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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199
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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200
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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201
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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202
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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203
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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204
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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205
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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206
reprieve
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| n.暂缓执行（死刑）；v.缓期执行；给…带来缓解 | |
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207
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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208
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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209
rotary
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| adj.(运动等)旋转的；轮转的；转动的 | |
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210
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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211
malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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212
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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213
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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214
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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215
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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216
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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217
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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218
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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219
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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220
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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221
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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222
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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223
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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224
chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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225
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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226
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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227
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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228
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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229
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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230
pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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231
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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