Page:Victor Hugo - Notre-Dame de Paris (tr. Hapgood, 1888).djvu/472

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
196
NOTRE-DAME.

drink. My friends, my name is Jehan Frollo du Moulin, and I am a gentleman. My opinion is that if God were a gendarme, he would turn robber. Brothers, we are about to set out on a fine expedition. Lay siege to the church, burst in the doors, drag out the beautiful girl, save her from the judges, save her from the priests, dismantle the cloister, burn the bishop in his palace—all this we will do in less time than it takes for a burgomaster to eat a spoonful of soup. Our cause is just, we will plunder Notre-Dame and that will be the end of it. We will hang Quasimodo. Do you know Quasimodo, ladies? Have you seen him make himself breathless on the big bell on a grand Pentecost festival! Corne du Père! 'tis very fine! One would say he was a devil mounted on a man. Listen to me, my friends; I am a vagabond to the bottom of my heart, I am a member of the slang thief gang in my soul, I was born an independent thief. I have been rich, and I have devoured all my property. My mother wanted to make an officer of me; my father, a sub-deacon; my aunt, a councillor of inquests; my grandmother, prothonotary to the king; my great aunt, a treasurer of the short robe,—and I have made myself an outcast. I said this to my father, who spit his curse in my face; to my mother, who set to weeping and chattering, poor old lady, like yonder fagot on the andirons. Long live mirth ! I am a real Bicêtre. Waitress, my dear, more wine. I have still the wherewithal to pay. I want no more Surene wine. It distresses my throat. I'd as lief, corbœuf! gargle my throat with a basket."

Meanwhile, the rabble applauded with shouts of laughter; and seeing that the tumult was increasing around him. the scholar cried,—

"Oh! what a fine noise! Populi debacchantis populosa debacchatio!" Then he began to sing, his eye swimming in ecstasy, in the tone of a canon intoning vespers, Quæ cantica! quæ organa! quæ cantilenæ! quæ melodiæ hic sinc fine decantantur! Sonant melliflua hymnorum organa, suavissima angelorum melodia, cantica canticorum mira!" He broke off: "Tavern-keeper of the devil, give me some supper!"

There was a moment of partial silence, during which the