"_Te Deum Laudamus_!" exclaimed Master Jehan, creeping out from hishole, "the screech-owls have departed. Och! och! Hax! pax! max! fleas!mad dogs! the devil! I have had enough of their conversation! My headis humming like a bell tower. And mouldy cheese to boot! Come on! Let usdescend, take the big brother's purse and convert all these coins intobottles!"
He cast a glance of tenderness and admiration into the interior of theprecious pouch, readjusted his toilet, rubbed up his boots, dusted hispoor half sleeves, all gray with ashes, whistled an air, indulged in asportive pirouette, looked about to see whether there were not somethingmore in the cell to take, gathered up here and there on the furnace someamulet in glass which might serve to bestow, in the guise of a trinket,on Isabeau la Thierrye, finally pushed open the door which his brotherhad left unfastened, as a last indulgence, and which he, in histurn, left open as a last piece of malice, and descended the circularstaircase, skipping like a bird.
In the midst of the gloom of the spiral staircase, he elbowed somethingwhich drew aside with a growl; he took it for granted that it wasQuasimodo, and it struck him as so droll that he descended the remainderof the staircase holding his sides with laughter. On emerging upon thePlace, he laughed yet more heartily.
He stamped his foot when he found himself on the ground once again."Oh!" said he, "good and honorable pavement of Paris, cursed staircase,fit to put the angels of Jacob's ladder out of breath! What was Ithinking of to thrust myself into that stone gimlet which pierces thesky; all for the sake of eating bearded cheese, and looking at thebell-towers of Paris through a hole in the wall!"
He advanced a few paces, and caught sight of the two screech owls,that is to say, Dom Claude and Master Jacques Charmolue, absorbed incontemplation before a carving on the facade. He approached them ontiptoe, and heard the archdeacon say in a low tone to Charmolue: "'TwasGuillaume de Paris who caused a Job to be carved upon this stone ofthe hue of lapis-lazuli, gilded on the edges. Job represents thephilosopher's stone, which must also be tried and martyrized in orderto become perfect, as saith Raymond Lulle: _Sub conservatione formoespeciftoe salva anima_."
"That makes no difference to me," said Jehan, "'tis I who have thepurse."
At that moment he heard a powerful and sonorous voice articulate behindhim a formidable series of oaths. "_Sang Dieu! Ventre-.Dieu! Bedieu!Corps de Dieu! Nombril de Belzebuth! Nom d'un pape! Come et tonnerre_."
"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Jehan, "that can only be my friend, CaptainPhoebus!"
This name of Phoebus reached the ears of the archdeacon at the momentwhen he was explaining to the king's procurator the dragon which ishiding its tail in a bath, from which issue smoke and the head ofa king. Dom Claude started, interrupted himself and, to the greatamazement of Charmolue, turned round and beheld his brother Jehanaccosting a tall officer at the door of the Gondelaurier mansion.
It was, in fact, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers. He was backed upagainst a corner of the house of his betrothed and swearing like aheathen.
"By my faith! Captain Phoebus," said Jehan, taking him by the hand, "youare cursing with admirable vigor."
"Horns and thunder!" replied the captain.
"Horns and thunder yourself!" replied the student. "Come now, faircaptain, whence comes this overflow of fine words?"
"Pardon me, good comrade Jehan," exclaimed Phoebus, shaking his hand, "ahorse going at a gallop cannot halt short. Now, I was swearing at a hardgallop. I have just been with those prudes, and when I come forth, Ialways find my throat full of curses, I must spit them out or strangle,_ventre et tonnerre_!"
"Will you come and drink?" asked the scholar.
This proposition calmed the captain.
"I'm willing, but I have no money."
"But I have!"
"Bah! let's see it!"
Jehan spread out the purse before the captain's eyes, with dignity andsimplicity. Meanwhile, the archdeacon, who had abandoned the dumbfoundedCharmolue where he stood, had approached them and halted a few pacesdistant, watching them without their noticing him, so deeply were theyabsorbed in contemplation of the purse.
Phoebus exclaimed: "A purse in your pocket, Jehan! 'tis the moon in abucket of water, one sees it there but 'tis not there. There is nothingbut its shadow. Pardieu! let us wager that these are pebbles!"
Jehan replied coldly: "Here are the pebbles wherewith I pave my fob!"
And without adding another word, he emptied the purse on a neighboringpost, with the air of a Roman saving his country.
"True God!" muttered Phoebus, "targes, big-blanks, little blanks,mailles,* every two worth one of Tournay, farthings of Paris, real eagleliards! 'Tis dazzling!"
* An ancient copper coin, the forty-fourth part of a sou orthe twelfth part of a farthing.
Jehan remained dignified and immovable. Several liards had rolled intothe mud; the captain in his enthusiasm stooped to pick them up. Jehanrestrained him.
"Fye, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers!"
Phoebus counted the coins, and turning towards Jehan with solemnity, "Doyou know, Jehan, that there are three and twenty sous parisis! whom haveyou plundered to-night, in the Street Cut-Weazand?"
Jehan flung back his blonde and curly head, and said, half-closing hiseyes disdainfully,--
"We have a brother who is an archdeacon and a fool."
"_Corne de Dieu_!" exclaimed Phoebus, "the worthy man!"
"Let us go and drink," said Jehan.
"Where shall we go?" said Phoebus; "'To Eve's Apple.'"
"No, captain, to 'Ancient Science.' An old woman sawing a baskethandle*; 'tis a rebus, and I like that."
* _Une vielle qui scie une anse_.
"A plague on rebuses, Jehan! the wine is better at 'Eve's Apple'; andthen, beside the door there is a vine in the sun which cheers me while Iam drinking."
"Well! here goes for Eve and her apple," said the student, and takingPhoebus's arm. "By the way, my dear captain, you just mentioned the RueCoupe-Gueule* That is a very bad form of speech; people are no longer sobarbarous. They say, Coupe-Gorge**."
* Cut-Weazand Street.
** Cut-Throat Street.
The two friends set out towards "Eve's Apple." It is unnecessaryto mention that they had first gathered up the money, and that thearchdeacon followed them.
The archdeacon followed them, gloomy and haggard. Was this the Phoebuswhose accursed name had been mingled with all his thoughts ever sincehis interview with Gringoire? He did not know it, but it was at least aPhoebus, and that magic name sufficed to make the archdeacon follow thetwo heedless comrades with the stealthy tread of a wolf, listeningto their words and observing their slightest gestures with anxiousattention. Moreover, nothing was easier than to hear everything theysaid, as they talked loudly, not in the least concerned that thepassers-by were taken into their confidence. They talked of duels,wenches, wine pots, and folly.
At the turning of a street, the sound of a tambourine reached them froma neighboring square. Dom Claude heard the officer say to the scholar,--
"Thunder! Let us hasten our steps!"
"Why, Phoebus?"
"I'm afraid lest the Bohemian should see me."
"What Bohemian?"
"The little girl with the goat."
"La Smeralda?"
"That's it, Jehan. I always forget her devil of a name. Let us makehaste, she will recognize me. I don't want to have that girl accost mein the street."
"Do you know her, Phoebus?"
Here the archdeacon saw Phoebus sneer, bend down to Jehan's ear, and saya few words to him in a low voice; then Phoebus burst into a laugh, andshook his head with a triumphant air.
"Truly?" said Jehan.
"Upon my soul!" said Phoebus.
"This evening?"
"This evening."
"Are you sure that she will come?"
"Are you a fool, Jehan? Does one doubt such things?"
"Captain Phoebus, you are a happy gendarme!"
The archdeacon heard the wh
ole of this conversation. His teethchattered; a visible shiver ran through his whole body. He halted for amoment, leaned against a post like a drunken man, then followed the twomerry knaves.
At the moment when he overtook them once more, they had changed theirconversation. He heard them singing at the top of their lungs theancient refrain,--
_Les enfants des Petits-Carreaux Se font pendre cornme des veaux_*.
* The children of the Petits Carreaux let themselves be hunglike calves.
CHAPTER VII. THE MYSTERIOUS MONK.