rection yonder."
a Think you so, Master Coppenole?" said the king, with
a look of scarcely less delight than that of the hosier.
* 'Twill be difficult to quell, no doubt."
" By the mass, sire, your majesty will get a great many
companies of men-at-arms thinned in doing it."
" Ah ! I ! that alters the case !" rejoined the king.
" If I pleased "
412 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTBE-DAME.
"If this riot be what I suppose," boldly replied the ho-
sier, " your pleasing will be to no purpose."
" Compere" said Louis XL, " with two companies of
my guard and one piece of ordnance, one might soon put
down the rabble."
The hosier, regardless of the signs made to him by his
colleague, appeared determined to contradict the king.
" TheSwitzers too were rabble," said he. " The Duke of
Burgundy, being a proud gentleman, held this rabble dog-
cheap. At the battle of Grandson, he cried : ' Gunners,
fire on yon base-born varlets !' and he swore by St. George.
But Scharnachthal, the avenger, rushed upon the goodly
duke with his mace and his men ; and, at the onslaught of
peasants clad in buffalo- hides, the shining Burgundian
army was shivered like a pane of glass by a stone. I know
not how many knights were slain by the rabble ; and
Monsieur de Chateau-Guyon, the most illustrious of the
Burgundian nobles, was found dead with his tall gray
charger in a small meadow."
" My friend," rejoined the king, " you are talking of a
battle : we have to do with a riot. Why, I would put an
end to it in the twinkling of an eye."
" It may be, sire," replied the other with indifference ;
'' but in that case the people's time is not come."
Guillaume Rym thought it right to interfere. " Master
Coppenole, you are speaking to a mighty monarch."
" I know it," gravely replied the hosier.
" Let him talk away, my friend Rym," said the king :
" I like this frankness. My father, Charles VII., was
accustomed to say that Truth was sick. Now I fancied
that she was dead, and had not found a confessor. Master
Coppenole is making me sensible of my mistake."
Then, laying his hand familiarly upon Coppenole's
shoulder, he proceeded : " You were saying, Master
Jacques . . . ."
" I was saying, sire, that perhaps you are right that
the hour of the people here is not yet come."
Louis fixed upon him his piercing eye. <( And when
will that hour arrive ? "
u You will hear it strike."
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. 413
" By what clock, pray ? "
Coppenole, with grave but tranquil look, drew the king
close to the window. ie Listen, sire. Here is a castle-
keep, there a bell-tower, cannon, burghers, soldiers.
When the bell-tower shall buzz, when the cannon shall
roar, when the keep shall fall with a mighty crash, when
the burghers and the soldiers shall shout and slay one an-
other, then shall the hour have struck."
The face of Louis XL became gloomy and thoughtful.
For a moment he was silent ; he then patted with his hand
the thick wall of the tower, as though it had been the flank
of a favourite charger. " O no ! " said he, " thou wilt
not fall so easily, my good Bastille ! " Then turning
sharply towards the bold Fleming : " Master Jacques," taid
he, " have you ever seen an insurrection ? "
te I have made one," answered the hosier.
'* How do you set about making an insurrection?"
enquired the king.
ts Why," replied Coppenole, <e the thing is not at all
difficult. There are a hundred ways. In the first place
the city must be discontented. That is not a rare circum-
stance. And then the character of the inhabitants. Those
of Ghent are disposed to sedition. They are always at-
tached to the son of the reigning prince, but never to the
prince himself. Well, I will suppose that some morning,
some one comes into my shop and says to me : ' Father
Coppenole, here is this, that, and the other ; the demoi-
selle of Flanders is determined to save her ministers ; the
high bailiff has doubled the toll for grinding corn' or any
thing else no matter what. Incontinently I leave my
work, and out I go into the street, and shout ' To arms!'
There is always seme cask or hogshead lying about. I
leap upon it, and I tell, in the first words that come, what
I have upon my heart ; and when one belongs to the
people, sire, one always has something upon the heart.
Then the lieges assemble, they shout, they ring the alarm-
bell, they arm themselves with weapons taken from trip
soldiers, the market-people join them, and they fall to
work. And this will always be the way, while there are
414 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME.
lords in the seignories, burghers in the burghs, and peasants
in the country."
" And against whom do ye thus rebel ? " enquired the
king. ' ' Against your bailiffs ? against your liege -lords ? "
" Sometimes one, sometimes the other, just as it hap-
pens : sometimes too against the duke."
Monsieur Louis returned to his chair. u Aha ! " said
he with a smile ; n here they have got no further than the
bailiffs!"
At that moment Olivier-le-Daim returned. He was
followed by two pages bearing the requisites for the king's
toilet ; but what struck Louis XI. was the circumstance of
his being accompanied also by the provost of Paris and the
officer of the watch, whose countenances bespoke alarm.
The face of the spiteful barber also wore a look of dismay,
but an expression of pleasure lurked beneath it. He it was
who spoke. " Begging your majesty's pardon," said he,
" I bring calamitous tidings."
The king, turning sharply round, tore the mat on the
floor with the legs of his chair. " What have you to
say ? "
" Sire," replied 01ivier_le-Daim, with the n alignant
look of a man who rejoices in the opportunity of striking
a severe blow, " it is not against the bailiff of the Palace
that the insurrection of the populace is directed."
" And against whom then ? "
" Against yourself, sire ? "
The aged monarch started upon his feet, upright as a
young man. " Explain, Olivier, explain ! And beware
of thy head, compare; for I swear by the cross of St.
Lo that if thou liest, the sword which cut off the head of
Monsieur de Luxembourg is not so notched but it shall
hack off thine!"
This was a formidable oath. In all his life Louis XI.
had sworn but twice by the cross of St. Lo. Olivier opened
his lips to reply. u Sire . . . ."
ie Down on thy knees ! " cried the king vehemently,
interrupting him. " Tristan, look to this man !"
Olivier fell on his knees. " Sire," said he coldly, " a
witch has been sentenced to death by your court of Par-
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. 415
liament. She has taken sanctuary in Notre-Dame. The
people have risen to remove her by force. The provost
and the officer of the watch, who have just come from the
spot, are here to contradict me if I speak not truth. It is
to Notre-Dame that the rabble are laying siege."
" Soho !'* ejaculated the king, in a low tone, pale and
trembling with rage. " Notre-Dame, is it ? They are
besieging Our Lady, my good mistress, in her own cathe^
dral ! Rise, Olivier. Thou art right. I give thee Simon
Radin's place. Thou art right. It is myself whom they
are assailing. The witch is under the safeguard of the
church, the church is under my safeguard. I verily believed
that the bailiff was the object of their attack. It is myself,
after all ! "
Then, as if his passion had suddenly restored to him the
vigour of youth, he began to pace the floor with hasty
strides. He no longer laughed : he was terrible to behold
as he stalked to and fro. The fox was turned into an
hyaena. He seemed to be choked, and incapable of utter-
ance : his lips moved, and his scraggy fists were clenched.
All at once he raised his head ; his hollow eye glared, and
his voice burst forth like the blast of a trumpet : " Cut
them in pieces, Tristan ! cut all those knaves in pieces !
Go, my friend Tristan ! slay, and spare not ! "
This explosion over, he returned to his seat, and said
with cold, concentrated rage : " Here, Tristan ! We
have with us in this Bastille the Vicomte de Gif's fifty
lances, making together three hundred horse : take them.
There is also Captain de Chateaupers' company of the
archers of our ordnance : take them. You are provost of
the farriers ; you have your own people : take them. At
the Hotel St. Pol you will find forty archers of the new
guard of Monsieur the Dauphin : take them. And with
all this force hasten forthwith to Notre-Dame So, so,
messieurs of the mob of Paris, it is at the crown of France,
at the sanctity of Our Lady, and at the peace of thir
commonwealth, that your blows are aimed ! Exterminate,
Tristan ! exterminate ! Spare not one of them but for
Montfaucon 1 "
416 THE HUNCHBACK OP NOTRE-DAME.
Tristan bowed : " It shall be done, sire." After a pause,
he asked : f ' What shall I do with the sorceress ? "
' Ah ! " said he, musing at this question " the sor-
ceress ! Monsieur d'Estouteville, what would the people
with her ? " * %
" Sire," replied the provost of Paris, '* I should imagine
that, as the people are gone to take her from her sanctuary
in Notre-Dame, they are offended because she is unpun-
ished, and mean to hang her."
For a while the king appeared to be lost in thought ;
then turning to Tristan : " Compere," said he, l< extermi-
nate the people, and hang the sorceress."
" Excellent ! " whispered Rym to Coppenole : ec punish
the people for the intention, and carry that intention into
effect ! "
* 'Tis enough, sire," answered Tristan. H But if the
sorceress be still in Notre-Dame, is she to be removed in
despite of sanctuary ? "
ee Pasque-Dieu ! sanctuary !" ejaculated the king, rub-
bing his forehead. " And yet the witch must be hanged."
Here, as if actuated by a sudden idea, he fell upon his
knees before his chair, took off his hat, laid it upon the
seat, and devoutly fixed his eyes on one of the leaden
figures with which it was garnished. " Oh !" he began
with clasped hands, " my gracious patroness, Our Lady of
Paris, forgive me. I will do it but this once. That cri-
minal must be punished. I assure you, Holy Virgin, my
good mistress, that she is a sorceress who is not worthy of
your kind protection. You know, madam, that many very
pious princes have transgressed the privilege of churches
for the glory of God and the necessity of the state. St.
Hugh, a bishop of England, allowed king Edward to take
a magician in his church. St. Louis of France, my master,
violated for the same purpose the church of Monsieur St.
Paul ; and Monsieur Alphonse, son of the King of Jeru-
*a4em, the church of the Holy Sepulchre itself. Forgive
ttie then for this time, Our Lady of Paris ! I will never
do so again, and I will give you a goodly statue of silver,
like that which I gave last year to Our Lady of Ecouys.
Amen !"
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTBE-DAME. 417
He made the sign of the cross, rose, put on his hat, and
said to Tristan : u . Lose not a moment, compere. Take
Monsieur de Chateaupers along with you. Let the alarm-
bell be rung. Quell the rabble. Hang the sorceress. That
is settled. I expect you to bear the costs of the execution.
Report to me upon it. Come, Olivier, I shall not get to
bed to-night. Shave me."
Tristan the Hermit bowed and retired. The king then
motioned Rym and Coppenole to withdraw. " God keep
you, my good friends of Flanders. Go, take a little rest :
the night is far spent ; indeed we are nearer to morning
than evening."
Both accordingly retired, and on reaching their apart-
ments, to which they were escorted by the captain of the
Bastille, Coppenole said to Guillaume Rym : " By the
rood ! I have had enough of this coughing king. 1 have
seen Charles of Burgundy drunk ; he was not so ill-con-
ditioned as Louis XI. sick."
" Master Jacques," replied Rym, " 'tis because the wine
of kings is not so cruel as their diet-drink."
CHAPTER VI.
A NABBOW ESCAPE.
On leaving the Bastille, Gringoire scudded down the Rue
St. Antoine with the swiftness of a runaway horse. When
he had reached the Baudoyer gate, he walked straight up
to the stone cross which stood in the middle of the open
space, as though he had been able to discern in the dark
the figure of a man in a black dress and cowl, seated on
the steps of the cross. " Is it you, master ? " said Grin-
goire.
The black figure started up. (i Death and perdition !
You make my blood boil, Gringoire. The warder on the
tower of St. Gervais has just cried half past one."
* Why," plied Gringoire, " 'tis not my fault, but that
E E
418 THE HUNCHBACK OP NOTRE-DAMR.
of the watch and the king. I have had a narrow escape
I was on the point of being hanged. I am predestined
to it, I fancy."
" Thou art never in time for any thing," said the other:
but let us be gone. Hast thou the watch- word ? "
" Only think, master I have seen the king ! I have
just come from him. He wears fustian breeches. 'Tis
quite an adventure I"
" Eternal babbler ! What care- I for thy adventure ! "
Hast thou the watch-word of the Vagabonds ? "
" Be easy ; I have."
" 'Tis well. We should not else be able to reach the
church. The rabble block up all the streets. Luckily,
they seem to have met with resistance. We shall perhaps
yet arrive in time."
" Yes, master, but how are we to get into the church ?"
" I have a key to the towers."
" And how shall we get out ? "
" Behind the cloisters there is a postern opening upon
the Terrain, and so to the river. I have taken the key of
it, and I moored a boat there this morning."
" I have had a most lucky escape from the gallows in-
deed ! '' said Gringoire, exultingly.
" Never mind that now ! come along, quick ! " rejoined
the other.
Both then proceeded at a rapid pace towards the City.
CHAPTER VII.
CHATEAUPERS TO THE RESCUE !
The reader probably recollects the critical situation in
which we left Quasimodo. The brave hunchback, assailed
on all sides, had lost, if not all courage, at least all hope
of saving, not himself he never once thought of himself
but the Egyptian. He ran in consternation to the
gallery. The church was on the point of being carried
THE HUNCHBACK OP NOTRE-DAME. 419
by the mob. All at once the tramp of horses in full gallop
was heard in the neighbouring streets ; and presently a
wide column of horsemen riding at speed and a long file
of torches poured with a tremendous noise into the Place
like a hurricane. <{ France ! France for ever ! Chateau-
pers to the rescue ! Down with the rascals ! " The af-
frighted Vagabonds faced about.
Quasimodo, who could not hear the din, saw the naked
swords, the torches, the pike- heads, the whole column of
cavalry, at the head of which he recognised Captain
Phoebus. He observed the confusion of the rabble, the
consternation of some, and the alarm of the stoutest ; and,
at the sight of this unexpected succour, he mustered strength
enough to throw down the foremost of the assailants, who
were already striding over into the gallery.
The mob defended themselves with the valour of de-
spair. Taken in flank by the Rue St. Pierre-aux-Boeufs
and in rear by the Rue du Parvis, with their backs towards
Notre-Dame, which they were still assailing and which
Quasimodo defended, at once besiegers and besieged, they
were in the singular situation in which Count Henri
d' Harcourt subsequently found himself at the famous siege
of Turin, in 1 640, between Prince Thomas of Savoy whom
he was besieging, and the Marquis de Leganez, who was
blockading him ; Taurinum obsessor idem et obsessus, as
his epitaph has it.
The conflict was terrible. As Father Mathieu observes ;
"Wolf's flesh requires dogs' teeth." The king's troops,
amidst whom Phoebus de Chateaupers conducted himself
valiantly, gave no quarter : what escaped the point of the
sword was cu* down by the edge. The rabble, badly
armed, foamed and bit. Men, women, children, darting
at the flanks and chests of the horses, clung to them like
cats with tooth and nail. Some thrust torches into the
faces of the archers : while others, catching them by the
neck with iron hooks, pulled them from their horses and
cut them in pieces. One in particular was remarked
with a huge scythe, mowing away at the legs of the
horses. It was a fearful sight. Snuffling a stave with
nasal twang, he kept his scythe incessantly going. At each
e e 2
4:20 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME.
stroke he formed about him a large semicircle of di
inembered limbs. In this manner he wrought his way
into the thickest of the cavalry with the deliberate move-
ment, the swaying of the head, and the regidar expiration
of a mower cutting a field of clover. It was Clopin
Trouillefou, The fire of an arquebuss laid him pro-
strate.
Meanwhile windows were thrown open. The neighbours,
hearing the shouts of the men-at-arms, took part in the
affair, and showers of balls were discharged from every
story upon the rabble. The Parvis was filled with a dense
smoke, which the musquetry streaked ever and anon with
fire. Through this smoke were faintly seen the facade of
Notre- Dame, and the decrepit Hotel-Dieu, with a number
of pale-faced patients gazing from the top of its roof
studded with dormer windows.
The Vagabonds at length gave way, discomfited by
weariness, the want of proper weapons, the consternation
of that surprise, the firing from the windows, and the
furious onslaught of the king's troops. Forcing the line
of their assailants, they fled in all directions, leaving the
Parvis strewed with dead.
When Quasimodo, who had been busily engaged the
whole time, perceived their defeat, he fell on his knees
and lifted his hands to heaven ; then, frantic with joy he
flew with the swiftness of a bird to the little cell, the ac-
cess to which he had so gallantly defended. He had now
but one thought to throw himself at the feet of her
whom he had saved for the second time. When he
reached the cell, he found it empty.
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. 421
BOOK X.
CHAPTER I.
THE LITTLE SHOE.
At the moment when the Vagabonds attacked the church,
La Esmeralda was asleep. It was not long before she
was roused by the constantly increasing noise around the
cathedral and the uneasy bleating of her goat, which had
awoke before her. She sat up, listening and looking about ;
then, alarmed by the light and the uproar, she hurried out
of the cell to see what was the matter. The aspect of the
Place, the scene exhibited there, the confusion of this
nocturnal assault, the hideous appearance of the rabble,
hopping about like a host of frogs, faintly discerned in
the dark, the harsh croaking of this coarse mob, the few
torches dancing to and fro in the obscurity, like those
meteors of night gambolling over the misty surface of
bogs, produced all together the effect of a mysterious battle
between the phantoms of the witches' sabbath and the
stone monsters of the church. Imbued from infancy
with the superstitions of the gipsy tribe, her first idea
was that she had caught the strange beings peculiar to
night in their unhallowed pranks. She then hurried
back in affright to her cell, to bury her face in the bed-
clothes, and to shut out if possible the terrific vision.
The first fumes of fear having gradually dispersed, she
found, from the incessantly increasing din and divers
other tokens of reality, that she was invested not by
spectres but by creatures of flesh and blood. Her terror
then, without being augmented, changed its form. She
had conceived a notion of the possibility of a popular se-
dition to tear her from her asylum. The prospect of still
losing her life, her hopes, her Phcebus, which her ima-
422 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME.
gination held forth to her, the absolute nothingness of her
own strength, her forlorn situation, cut off from all support,
all chance of flight these and a thousand other thoughts
overwhelmed her. She fell upon her knees, laying her
head covered with her clasped hands upon the bed, filled
with thrilling apprehensions ; and, Egyptian, idolater,
and pagan as she was, she began with heavy sobs to im-
plore mercy of the God of Christians and to pray to our
Lady, her protectress. For, be one's creed what it will,
there are moments when one feels favourably disposed to-
wards the religion of the temple near which one happens
to be.
In this attitude she remained for a considerable time,
trembling indeed more than she prayed, her blood curdling
at the indications of the nearer and nearer approach of
that infuriated multitude, utterly at a loss to account for
their proceedings, ignorant of what they were doing and
what they meant to do, but anticipating some terrible
catastrophe.
Amidst this anguish she heard a footstep close to her.
She looked up. Two men, one of whom carried a lan-
tern, had just entered her cell. She gave a faint shriek.
" Fear nothing," said a voice, which was not unknown
to her : " it is I."
* And who are you ? " she inquired.
" Pierre Gringoire."
That name gave her fresh courage. She lifted her eyes
and saw that it actually was the poet. But at his side
stood a black figure, muffled up from head to foot, which
struck her mute.
" Ah ! " resumed Gringoire, in a tone of reproach,
te Djali knew me before you did !"
The little goat had, in fact, not waited for Gringoire
to mention his name. No sooner did he enter than she
fondly rubbed against his knees, covering the poet with
endearments and white hair; for she was shedding her
coat. Gringoire returned her caresses.
tc Who is that with you? " said theEgyptian in a low tone.
<c Be easy," answered Gringoire. " ' Tis one of my
friends."
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. 423
The philosopher, setting down the lantern, crouched
upon the floor, clasped Djali in his arms, and cried with
enthusiasm, " Oh ! 'tis a darling creature, with its en-
gaging ways, and withal shrewd, ingenious, and learned
as a grammarian ! Come, my Djali, let us see if thou
hast not forgotten thy diverting tricks. How does Master
Jacques Charmolue do ? "
The man in black would not suffer him to finish. He
stepped up to Gringoire, and roughly pushed him on the
shoulder. Gringoire rose. ' ' Ah ! true ! " said he ; " I
had well nigh forgotten that we are in haste. But yet,
master, that is no reason for hurting people so. My
dear girl, your life is in danger, and Djali's too. They
mean to hang you again. We are your friends, and are
come to save you. Follow us."
" Is it true ? " cried she in extreme agitation.
" Quite true, I assure you. Come quick ! "
u I will," stammered she. " But how is it that your
friend does not speak ? "
iC Why," said Gringoire, H the fact is, that his father
and mother were fantastic people, and made him of a re-
served disposition."
She was obliged to be satisfied with this explanation.
Gringoire took her by the hand ; his companion picked up
the lantern and walked on before. The young creature was
Stupified with fear. She suffered Gringoire to lead her
away. The goat went with them, frisking about, and so
overjoyed to see the poet again, that she thrust her head
every moment against his legs with such force as to make
him stagger. '* Such is life," said the philosopher, when-
ever he had well nigh fallen; u it is often our best friends
that throw us down ! "
They rapidly descended the tower stairs, passed through
the church, dark, solitary, but ringing with the uproar,
which produced a fearful contrast, and went out by the
Porte Rouge into the cloister court. The cloisters were
deserted ; the canons had fled to the bishop's palace, where
they were praying together : the court was empty, with the
exception of a few affrighted serving-men, squatting in the
dark corners. Gringoire and his companions proceeded to-
e e 4
424 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME.
wards the postern leading out of that court to the Terrain*
The man in black unlocked it with a key which he brought
with him. The reader is aware that the Terrain was a
slip of land inclosed with walls, belonging to the chapter
of Notre- Dame, forming the eastern extremity of the island,
in the rear of the cathedral. They found this spot entirely
deserted. At that distance already there was less tumult
in the air. The various noises of the assault reached them
more blended, more softened down. The breeze which
followed the current of the river shook the leaves of the
only tree standing on the point of the Terrain, the rustling
of which was already audible : but they were yet at a very
little distance from the danger. The buildings nearest to
them were the bishop's palace and the cathedral. There
was evidently a great bustle within the former. Its gloomy
front was streaked with lights darting from window to win-