Gringoire and the entire Court of Miracles were suffering mortalanxiety. For a whole month they had not known what had become of laEsmeralda, which greatly pained the Duke of Egypt and his friends thevagabonds, nor what had become of the goat, which redoubled Gringoire'sgrief. One evening the gypsy had disappeared, and since that time hadgiven no signs of life. All search had proved fruitless. Some tormentingbootblacks had told Gringoire about meeting her that same evening nearthe Pont Saint-Michel, going off with an officer; but this husband,after the fashion of Bohemia, was an incredulous philosopher, andbesides, he, better than any one else, knew to what a point his wife wasvirginal. He had been able to form a judgment as to the unconquerablemodesty resulting from the combined virtues of the amulet and the gypsy,and he had mathematically calculated the resistance of that chastity tothe second power. Accordingly, he was at ease on that score.
Still he could not understand this disappearance. It was a profoundsorrow. He would have grown thin over it, had that been possible. He hadforgotten everything, even his literary tastes, even his great work,_De figuris regularibus et irregularibus_, which it was his intentionto have printed with the first money which he should procure (for he hadraved over printing, ever since he had seen the "Didascalon" of Huguesde Saint Victor, printed with the celebrated characters of Vindelin deSpire).
One day, as he was passing sadly before the criminal Tournelle, heperceived a considerable crowd at one of the gates of the Palais deJustice.
"What is this?" he inquired of a young man who was coming out.
"I know not, sir," replied the young man. "'Tis said that they aretrying a woman who hath assassinated a gendarme. It appears that thereis sorcery at the bottom of it, the archbishop and the official haveintervened in the case, and my brother, who is the archdeacon of Josas,can think of nothing else. Now, I wished to speak with him, but Ihave not been able to reach him because of the throng, which vexes megreatly, as I stand in need of money."
"Alas! sir," said Gringoire, "I would that I could lend you some, but,my breeches are worn to holes, and 'tis not crowns which have done it."
He dared not tell the young man that he was acquainted with his brotherthe archdeacon, to whom he had not returned after the scene in thechurch; a negligence which embarrassed him.
The scholar went his way, and Gringoire set out to follow the crowdwhich was mounting the staircase of the great chamber. In his opinion,there was nothing like the spectacle of a criminal process fordissipating melancholy, so exhilaratingly stupid are judges as a rule.The populace which he had joined walked and elbowed in silence. Aftera slow and tiresome march through a long, gloomy corridor, whichwound through the court-house like the intestinal canal of the ancientedifice, he arrived near a low door, opening upon a hall which his loftystature permitted him to survey with a glance over the waving heads ofthe rabble.
The hall was vast and gloomy, which latter fact made it appear stillmore spacious. The day was declining; the long, pointed windowspermitted only a pale ray of light to enter, which was extinguishedbefore it reached the vaulted ceiling, an enormous trellis-work ofsculptured beams, whose thousand figures seemed to move confusedly inthe shadows, many candles were already lighted here and there on tables,and beaming on the heads of clerks buried in masses of documents. Theanterior portion of the ball was occupied by the crowd; on the right andleft were magistrates and tables; at the end, upon a platform, anumber of judges, whose rear rank sank into the shadows, sinister andmotionless faces. The walls were sown with innumerable fleurs-de-lis. Alarge figure of Christ might be vaguely descried above the judges,and everywhere there were pikes and halberds, upon whose points thereflection of the candles placed tips of fire.
"Monsieur," Gringoire inquired of one of his neighbors, "who are allthose persons ranged yonder, like prelates in council?"
"Monsieur," replied the neighbor, "those on the right are thecounsellors of the grand chamber; those on the left, the councillors ofinquiry; the masters in black gowns, the messires in red."
"Who is that big red fellow, yonder above them, who is sweating?"pursued Gringoire.
"It is monsieur the president."
"And those sheep behind him?" continued Gringoire, who as we have seen,did not love the magistracy, which arose, possibly, from the grudgewhich he cherished against the Palais de Justice since his dramaticmisadventure.
"They are messieurs the masters of requests of the king's household."
"And that boar in front of him?"
"He is monsieur the clerk of the Court of Parliament."
"And that crocodile on the right?"
"Master Philippe Lheulier, advocate extraordinary of the king."
"And that big, black tom-cat on the left?"
"Master Jacques Charmolue, procurator of the king in the EcclesiasticalCourt, with the gentlemen of the officialty."
"Come now, monsieur," said Gringoire, "pray what are all those finefellows doing yonder?"
"They are judging."
"Judging whom? I do not see the accused."
"'Tis a woman, sir. You cannot see her. She has her back turned to us,and she is hidden from us by the crowd. Stay, yonder she is, where yousee a group of partisans."
"Who is the woman?" asked Gringoire. "Do you know her name?"
"No, monsieur, I have but just arrived. I merely assume that there issome sorcery about it, since the official is present at the trial."
"Come!" said our philosopher, "we are going to see all these magistratesdevour human flesh. 'Tis as good a spectacle as any other."
"Monsieur," remarked his neighbor, "think you not, that Master JacquesCharmolue has a very sweet air?"
"Hum!" replied Gringoire. "I distrust a sweetness which hath pinchednostrils and thin lips."
Here the bystanders imposed silence upon the two chatterers. They werelistening to an important deposition.
"Messeigneurs," said an old woman in the middle of the hall, whose formwas so concealed beneath her garments that one would have pronounced hera walking heap of rags; "Messeigneurs, the thing is as true as that Iam la Falourdel, established these forty years at the Pont Saint Michel,and paying regularly my rents, lord's dues, and quit rents; at the gateopposite the house of Tassin-Caillart, the dyer, which is on the sideup the river--a poor old woman now, but a pretty maid in former days,my lords. Some one said to me lately, 'La Falourdel, don't use yourspinning-wheel too much in the evening; the devil is fond of combing thedistaffs of old women with his horns. 'Tis certain that the surly monkwho was round about the temple last year, now prowls in the City. Takecare, La Falourdel, that he doth not knock at your door.' One evening Iwas spinning on my wheel, there comes a knock at my door; I ask who itis. They swear. I open. Two men enter. A man in black and a handsomeofficer. Of the black man nothing could be seen but his eyes, twocoals of fire. All the rest was hat and cloak. They say to me,--'TheSainte-Marthe chamber.'--'Tis my upper chamber, my lords, my cleanest.They give me a crown. I put the crown in my drawer, and I say: 'Thisshall go to buy tripe at the slaughter-house of la Gloriette to-morrow.'We go up stairs. On arriving at the upper chamber, and while my back isturned, the black man disappears. That dazed me a bit. The officer, whowas as handsome as a great lord, goes down stairs again with me. He goesout. In about the time it takes to spin a quarter of a handful of flax,he returns with a beautiful young girl, a doll who would have shone likethe sun had she been coiffed. She had with her a goat; a big billy-goat,whether black or white, I no longer remember. That set me to thinking.The girl does not concern me, but the goat! I love not those beasts,they have a beard and horns. They are so like a man. And then, theysmack of the witches, sabbath. However, I say nothing. I had the crown.That is right, is it not, Monsieur Judge? I show the captain and thewench to the upper chamber, and I leave them alone; that is to say, withthe goat. I go down and set to spinning again--I must inform you thatmy house has a ground floor and story above. I know not why I fell tothinking of the surly monk whom the goat had put into my head again, andthen
the beautiful girl was rather strangely decked out. All at once,I hear a cry upstairs, and something falls on the floor and the windowopens. I run to mine which is beneath it, and I behold a black mass passbefore my eyes and fall into the water. It was a phantom clad likea priest. It was a moonlight night. I saw him quite plainly. He wasswimming in the direction of the city. Then, all of a tremble, I callthe watch. The gentlemen of the police enter, and not knowing just atthe first moment what the matter was, and being merry, they beat me. Iexplain to them. We go up stairs, and what do we find? my poor chamberall blood, the captain stretched out at full length with a dagger inhis neck, the girl pretending to be dead, and the goat all in a fright.'Pretty work!' I say, 'I shall have to wash that floor for more than afortnight. It will have to be scraped; it will be a terrible job.' Theycarried off the officer, poor young man, and the wench with her bosomall bare. But wait, the worst is that on the next day, when I wanted totake the crown to buy tripe, I found a dead leaf in its place."
The old woman ceased. A murmur of horror ran through the audience.
"That phantom, that goat,--all smacks of magic," said one of Gringoire'sneighbors.
"And that dry leaf!" added another.
"No doubt about it," joined in a third, "she is a witch who has dealingswith the surly monk, for the purpose of plundering officers."
Gringoire himself was not disinclined to regard this as altogetheralarming and probable.
"Goody Falourdel," said the president majestically, "have you nothingmore to communicate to the court?"
"No, monseigneur," replied the crone, "except that the report hasdescribed my house as a hovel and stinking; which is an outrageousfashion of speaking. The houses on the bridge are not imposing, becausethere are such multitudes of people; but, nevertheless, the butcherscontinue to dwell there, who are wealthy folk, and married to veryproper and handsome women."
The magistrate who had reminded Gringoire of a crocodile rose,--
"Silence!" said he. "I pray the gentlemen not to lose sight of the factthat a dagger was found on the person of the accused. Goody Falourdel,have you brought that leaf into which the crown which the demon gave youwas transformed?
"Yes, monseigneur," she replied; "I found it again. Here it is."
A bailiff banded the dead leaf to the crocodile, who made a dolefulshake of the head, and passed it on to the president, who gave it to theprocurator of the king in the ecclesiastical court, and thus it made thecircuit of the hail.
"It is a birch leaf," said Master Jacques Charmolue. "A fresh proof ofmagic."
A counsellor took up the word.
"Witness, two men went upstairs together in your house: the black man,whom you first saw disappear and afterwards swimming in the Seine, withhis priestly garments, and the officer. Which of the two handed youthe crown?" The old woman pondered for a moment and then said,--"Theofficer."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Ah!" thought Gringoire, "this makes some doubt in my mind."
But Master Philippe Lheulier, advocate extraordinary to the king,interposed once more.
"I will recall to these gentlemen, that in the deposition taken at hisbedside, the assassinated officer, while declaring that he had a vagueidea when the black man accosted him that the latter might be the surlymonk, added that the phantom had pressed him eagerly to go and makeacquaintance with the accused; and upon his, the captain's, remarkingthat he had no money, he had given him the crown which the said officerpaid to la Falourdel. Hence, that crown is the money of hell."
This conclusive observation appeared to dissipate all the doubts ofGringoire and the other sceptics in the audience.
"You have the documents, gentlemen," added the king's advocate, ashe took his seat; "you can consult the testimony of Phoebus deChateaupers."
At that name, the accused sprang up, her head rose above the throng.Gringoire with horror recognized la Esmeralda.
She was pale; her tresses, formerly so gracefully braided and spangledwith sequins, hung in disorder; her lips were blue, her hollow eyes wereterrible. Alas!
"Phoebus!" she said, in bewilderment; "where is he? O messeigneurs!before you kill me, tell me, for pity sake, whether he still lives?"
"Hold your tongue, woman," replied the president, "that is no affair ofours."
"Oh! for mercy's sake, tell me if he is alive!" she repeated, claspingher beautiful emaciated hands; and the sound of her chains in contactwith her dress, was heard.
"Well!" said the king's advocate roughly, "he is dying. Are yousatisfied?"
The unhappy girl fell back on her criminal's seat, speechless, tearless,white as a wax figure.
The president bent down to a man at his feet, who wore a gold cap and ablack gown, a chain on his neck and a wand in his hand.
"Bailiff, bring in the second accused."
All eyes turned towards a small door, which opened, and, to the greatagitation of Gringoire, gave passage to a pretty goat with horns andhoofs of gold. The elegant beast halted for a moment on the threshold,stretching out its neck as though, perched on the summit of a rock, ithad before its eyes an immense horizon. Suddenly it caught sight of thegypsy girl, and leaping over the table and the head of a clerk, in twobounds it was at her knees; then it rolled gracefully on its mistress'sfeet, soliciting a word or a caress; but the accused remainedmotionless, and poor Djali himself obtained not a glance.
"Eh, why--'tis my villanous beast," said old Falourdel, "I recognize thetwo perfectly!"
Jacques Charmolue interfered.
"If the gentlemen please, we will proceed to the examination of thegoat." He was, in fact, the second criminal. Nothing more simple inthose days than a suit of sorcery instituted against an animal. We find,among others in the accounts of the provost's office for 1466, a curiousdetail concerning the expenses of the trial of Gillet-Soulart and hissow, "executed for their demerits," at Corbeil. Everything is there, thecost of the pens in which to place the sow, the five hundred bundles ofbrushwood purchased at the port of Morsant, the three pints of wineand the bread, the last repast of the victim fraternally shared by theexecutioner, down to the eleven days of guard and food for the sow,at eight deniers parisis each. Sometimes, they went even further thananimals. The capitularies of Charlemagne and of Louis le Debonnaireimpose severe penalties on fiery phantoms which presume to appear in theair.
Meanwhile the procurator had exclaimed: "If the demon which possessesthis goat, and which has resisted all exorcisms, persists in its deedsof witchcraft, if it alarms the court with them, we warn it that weshall be forced to put in requisition against it the gallows or thestake. Gringoire broke out into a cold perspiration. Charmolue took fromthe table the gypsy's tambourine, and presenting it to the goat, in acertain manner, asked the latter,--
"What o'clock is it?"
The goat looked at it with an intelligent eye, raised its gilded hoof,and struck seven blows.
It was, in fact, seven o'clock. A movement of terror ran through thecrowd.
Gringoire could not endure it.
"He is destroying himself!" he cried aloud; "You see well that he doesnot know what he is doing."
"Silence among the louts at the end of the hail!" said the bailiffsharply.
Jacques Charmolue, by the aid of the same manoeuvres of the tambourine,made the goat perform many other tricks connected with the date ofthe day, the month of the year, etc., which the reader has alreadywitnessed. And, by virtue of an optical illusion peculiar to judicialproceedings, these same spectators who had, probably, more than onceapplauded in the public square Djali's innocent magic were terrified byit beneath the roof of the Palais de Justice. The goat was undoubtedlythe devil.
It was far worse when the procurator of the king, having emptied upon afloor a certain bag filled with movable letters, which Djali wore roundhis neck, they beheld the goat extract with his hoof from the scatteredalphabet the fatal name of Phoebus. The witchcraft of which the captainhad been the victim appeared irresistibly demonstrated, and in the eyesof
all, the gypsy, that ravishing dancer, who had so often dazzledthe passers-by with her grace, was no longer anything but a frightfulvampire.
However, she betrayed no sign of life; neither Djali's gracefulevolutions, nor the menaces of the court, nor the suppressedimprecations of the spectators any longer reached her mind.
In order to arouse her, a police officer was obliged to shake herunmercifully, and the president had to raise his voice,--"Girl, youare of the Bohemian race, addicted to deeds of witchcraft. You, incomplicity with the bewitched goat implicated in this suit, duringthe night of the twenty-ninth of March last, murdered and stabbed, inconcert with the powers of darkness, by the aid of charms and underhandpractices, a captain of the king's arches of the watch, Phoebus deChateaupers. Do you persist in denying it?"
"Horror!" exclaimed the young girl, hiding her face in her hands. "MyPhoebus! Oh, this is hell!"
"Do you persist in your denial?" demanded the president coldly.
"Do I deny it?" she said with terrible accents; and she rose withflashing eyes.
The president continued squarely,--
"Then how do you explain the facts laid to your charge?"
She replied in a broken voice,--
"I have already told you. I do not know. 'Twas a priest, a priest whom Ido not know; an infernal priest who pursues me!"
"That is it," retorted the judge; "the surly monk."
"Oh, gentlemen! have mercy! I am but a poor girl--"
"Of Egypt," said the judge.
Master Jacques Charmolue interposed sweetly,--
"In view of the sad obstinacy of the accused, I demand the applicationof the torture."
"Granted," said the president.
The unhappy girl quivered in every limb. But she rose at the command ofthe men with partisans, and walked with a tolerably firm step, precededby Charmolue and the priests of the officiality, between two rows ofhalberds, towards a medium-sized door which suddenly opened and closedagain behind her, and which produced upon the grief-stricken Gringoirethe effect of a horrible mouth which had just devoured her.
When she disappeared, they heard a plaintive bleating; it was the littlegoat mourning.
The sitting of the court was suspended. A counsellor having remarkedthat the gentlemen were fatigued, and that it would be a long timeto wait until the torture was at an end, the president replied that amagistrate must know how to sacrifice himself to his duty.
"What an annoying and vexatious hussy," said an aged judge, "to getherself put to the question when one has not supped!"
CHAPTER II. CONTINUATION OF THE CROWN WHICH WAS CHANGED INTO A DRY LEAF.