the hunchback of notre dame- 第80部分

She　tried　to　scream　and　could　not。

〃Begone；　monster！　begone　assassin！〃　she　said；　in　a　voice　which　was　low　and　trembling　with　wrath　and　terror。

〃Mercy！　　mercy！〃　murmured　the　priest；　pressing　his　lips　to　her　shoulder。

She　seized　his　bald　head　by　its　remnant　of　hair　and　tried　to　thrust　aside　his　kisses　as　though　they　had　been　bites。

〃Mercy！〃　repeated　the　unfortunate　man。　　〃If　you　but　knew　what　my　love　for　you　is！　　'Tis　fire；　melted　lead；　a　thousand　daggers　in　my　heart。〃

She　stopped　his　two　arms　with　superhuman　force。

〃Let　me　go；〃　she　said；　〃or　I　will　spit　in　your　face！〃

He　released　her。　　〃Vilify　me；　strike　me；　be　malicious！　　Do　what　you　will！　　But　have　mercy！　love　me！〃

Then　she　struck　him　with　the　fury　of　a　child。　　She　made　her　beautiful　hands　stiff　to　bruise　his　face。　　〃Begone；　demon！〃

〃Love　me！　love　mepity！〃　cried　the　poor　priest　returning　her　blows　with　caresses。

All　at　once　she　felt　him　stronger　than　herself。

〃There　must　be　an　end　to　this！〃　he　said；　gnashing　his　teeth。

She　was　conquered；　palpitating　in　his　arms；　and　in　his　power。　　She　felt　a　wanton　hand　straying　over　her。　　She　made　a　last　effort；　and　began　to　cry：　〃Help！　　Help！　　A　vampire！　a　vampire！〃

Nothing　came。　　Djali　alone　was　awake　and　bleating　with　anguish。

〃Hush！〃　said　the　panting　priest。

All　at　once；　as　she　struggled　and　crawled　on　the　floor；　the　gypsy's　hand　came　in　contact　with　something　cold　and　metal…　lic…it　was　Quasimodo's　whistle。　　She　seized　it　with　a　convulsive　hope；　raised　it　to　her　lips　and　blew　with　all　the　strength　that　she　had　left。　　The　whistle　gave　a　clear；　piercing　sound。

〃What　is　that？〃　said　the　priest。

Almost　at　the　same　instant　he　felt　himself　raised　by　a　vigorous　arm。　　The　cell　was　dark；　he　could　not　distinguish　clearly　who　it　was　that　held　him　thus；　but　he　heard　teeth　chattering　with　rage；　and　there　was　just　sufficient　light　scattered　among　the　gloom　to　allow　him　to　see　above　his　head　the　blade　of　a　large　knife。

The　priest　fancied　that　he　perceived　the　form　of　Quasimodo。　He　assumed　that　it　could　be　no　one　but　he。　　He　remembered　to　have　stumbled；　as　he　entered；　over　a　bundle　which　was　stretched　across　the　door　on　the　outside。　　But；　as　the　newcomer　did　not　utter　a　word；　he　knew　not　what　to　think。　　He　flung　himself　on　the　arm　which　held　the　knife；　crying：　〃Quasimodo！〃　　He　forgot；　at　that　moment　of　distress；　that　Quasimodo　was　deaf。

In　a　twinkling；　the　priest　was　overthrown　and　a　leaden　knee　rested　on　his　breast。

From　the　angular　imprint　of　that　knee　he　recognized　Quasimodo；　but　what　was　to　be　done？　how　could　he　make　the　other　recognize　him？　the　darkness　rendered　the　deaf　man　blind。

He　was　lost。　　The　young　girl；　pitiless　as　an　enraged　tigress；　did　not　intervene　to　save　him。　　The　knife　was　approaching　his　head；　the　moment　was　critical。　　All　at　once；　his　adversary　seemed　stricken　with　hesitation。

〃No　blood　on　her！〃　he　said　in　a　dull　voice。

It　was；　in　fact；　Quasimodo's　voice。

Then　the　priest　felt　a　large　hand　dragging　him　feet　first　out　of　the　cell；　it　was　there　that　he　was　to　die。　　Fortunately　for　him；　the　moon　had　risen　a　few　moments　before。

When　they　had　passed　through　the　door　of　the　cell；　its　pale　rays　fell　upon　the　priest's　countenance。　　Quasimodo　looked　him　full　in　the　face；　a　trembling　seized　him；　and　he　released　the　priest　and　shrank　back。

The　gypsy；　who　had　advanced　to　the　threshold　of　her　cell；　beheld　with　surprise　their　roles　abruptly　changed。　　It　was　now　the　priest　who　menaced；　Quasimodo　who　was　the　suppliant。

The　priest；　who　was　overwhelming　the　deaf　man　with　gestures　of　wrath　and　reproach；　made　the　latter　a　violent　sign　to　retire。

The　deaf　man　dropped　his　head；　then　he　came　and　knelt　at　the　gypsy's　door；〃Monseigneur；〃　he　said；　in　a　grave　and　resigned　voice；　〃you　shall　do　all　that　you　please　afterwards；　but　kill　me　first。〃

So　saying；　he　presented　his　knife　to　the　priest。　　The　priest；　beside　himself；　was　about　to　seize　it。　　But　the　young　girl　was　quicker　than　be；　she　wrenched　the　knife　from　Quasimodo's　hands　and　burst　into　a　frantic　laugh；〃Approach；〃　she　said　to　the　priest。

She　held　the　blade　high。　　The　priest　remained　undecided。

She　would　certainly　have　struck　him。

Then　she　added　with　a　pitiless　expression；　well　aware　that　she　was　about　to　pierce　the　priest's　heart　with　thousands　of　red…hot　irons；

〃Ah！　　I　know　that　Phoebus　is　not　dead！

The　priest　overturned　Quasimodo　on　the　floor　with　a　kick；　and；　quivering　with　rage；　darted　back　under　the　vault　of　the　staircase。

When　he　was　gone；　Quasimodo　picked　up　the　whistle　which　had　just　saved　the　gypsy。

〃It　was　getting　rusty；〃　he　said；　as　he　handed　it　back　to　her；　then　he　left　her　alone。

The　young　girl；　deeply　agitated　by　this　violent　scene；　fell　back　exhausted　on　her　bed；　and　began　to　sob　and　weep。　　Her　horizon　was　becoming　gloomy　once　more。

The　priest　had　groped　his　way　back　to　his　cell。

It　was　settled。　　Dom　Claude　was　jealous　of　Quasimodo！

He　repeated　with　a　thoughtful　air　his　fatal　words：　〃No　one　shall　have　her。〃





BOOK　TENTH。






CHAPTER　I。

GRINGOIRE　HAS　MANY　GOOD　IDEAS　IN　SUCCESSION。RUE　DES　BERNARDINS。



As　soon　as　Pierre　Gringoire　had　seen　how　this　whole　affair　was　turning；　and　that　there　would　decidedly　be　the　rope；　hanging；　and　other　disagreeable　things　for　the　principal　personages　in　this　comedy；　he　had　not　cared　to　identify　himself　with　the　matter　further。　　The　outcasts　with　whom　he　had　remained；　reflecting　that；　after　all；　it　was　the　best　company　in　Paris；the　outcasts　had　continued　to　interest　themselves　in　behalf　of　the　gypsy。　　He　had　thought　it　very　simple　on　the　part　of　people　who　had；　like　herself；　nothing　else　in　prospect　but　Charmolue　and　Torterue；　and　who；　unlike　himself；　did　not　gallop　through　the　regions　of　imagination　between　the　wings　of　Pegasus。　　From　their　remarks；　he　had　learned　that　his　wife　of　the　broken　crock　had　taken　refuge　in　Notre…Dame；　and　he　was　very　glad　of　it。　　But　he　felt　no　temptation　to　go　and　see　her　there。　　He　meditated　occasionally　on　the　little　goat；　and　that　was　all。　　Moreover；　he　was　busy　executing　feats　of　strength　during　the　day　for　his　living；　and　at　night　he　was　engaged　in　composing　a　memorial　against　the　Bishop　of　Paris；　for　he　remembered　having　been　drenched　by　the　wheels　of　his　mills；　and　he　cherished　a　grudge　against　him　for　it。　　He　also　occupied　himself　with　annotating　the　fine　work　of　Baudry…le…　Rouge；　Bishop　of　Noyon　and　Tournay；　_De　Cupa　Petrarum_；　which　had　given　him　a　violent　passion　for　architecture；　an　inclination　which　had　replaced　in　his　heart　his　passion　for　hermeticism；　of　which　it　was；　moreover；　only　a　natural　corollary；　since　there　is　an　intimate　relation　between　hermeticism　and　masonry。　　Gringoire　had　passed　from　the　love　of　an　idea　to　the　love　of　the　form　of　that　idea。

One　day　he　had　halted　near　Saint　Germain…l'Auxerrois；　at　the　corner　of　a　mansion　called　〃For…l'Evêque　〃　（the　Bishop's　Tribunal）；　which　stood　opposite　another　called　〃For…le…Roi〃　（the　King's　Tribunal）。　　At　this　For…l'Evêque；　there　was　a　charming　chapel　of　the　fourteenth　century；　whose　apse　was　on　the　street。　　Gringoire　was　devoutly　examining　its　exterior　sculptures。　　He　was　in　one　of　those　moments　of　egotistical；　exclusive；　supreme；　enjoyment　when　the　artist　beholds　nothing　in　the　world　but　art；　and　the　world　in　art。　　All　at　once　he　feels　a　hand　laid　gravely　on　his　shoulder。　　He　turns　round。　It　was　his　old　friend；　his　former　master；　monsieur　the　archdeacon。

He　was　stupefied。　　It　was　a　long　time　since　he　had　seen　the　archdeacon；　and　Dom　Claude　was　one　of　those　solemn　and　impassioned　men；　a　meeting　with　whom　always　upsets　the　equilibrium　of　a　sceptical　philosopher。

The　archdeacon　maintained　silence　for　several　minutes；　during　which　Gringoire　had　time　to　observe　him。　　He　found　Dom　Claude　greatly　changed；　pale　as　a　winter's　morning；　with　hollow　eyes；　and　hair　almost　white。　　The　priest　broke　the　silence　at　length；　by　saying；　in　a　tranquil　but　glacial　tone；

〃How　do　you　do；　Master　Pierre？〃

〃My　health？〃　replied　Gringoire。　　〃Eh！　eh！　one　can　say　both　one　thing　and　another　on　that　score。　　Still；　it　is　good；　on　the　whole。　　I　take　not　too　much　of　anything。　　You　know；　master；　that　the　secret　of　keeping　well；　according　to　Hippocrates；　~id　est：　cibi；　potus；　somni；　venus；　omnia　moderata　sint~。〃

〃So　you　have　no　care；　Master　Pierre？〃　resumed　the　archdeacon；　gazing　intently　at　Gringoire。

〃None；　i'　faith！〃

〃And　what　are　you　doing　now？〃

〃You　see；　master。　　I　am　examining　the　chiselling　of　these　stones；　and　the　manner　in　which　yonder　bas…relief　is　thrown　out。〃

The　priest　began　to　smile　with　that　bitter　smile　which　raises　only　one　corner　of　the　mouth。

〃And　that　amuses　you？〃

〃'Tis　paradise！〃　exclaimed　Gringoire。　　And　leaning　over　the　sculptures　with　the　fascinated　air　of　a　demonstrator　of　living　phenomena：　〃Do　you　not　think；　for　instance；　that　yon　metamorphosis　in　bas…relief　is　executed　with　much　adroitness；　delicacy　and　patience？　　Observe　that　slender　column。　　Around　what　capital　have　you　seen　foliage　more　tender　and　better　caressed　by　the　chisel。　　Here　are　three　raised　bosses　of　Jean　Maillevin。　　They　are　not　the　finest　works　of　this　great　master。　Nevertheless；　the　naivete；　the　sweetness　of　the　faces；　the　gayety　of　the　attitudes　and　draperies；　and　that　inexplicable　charm　which　is　mingled　with　all　the　defects；　render　the　little　figures　very　diverting　and　delicate；　perchance；　even　too　much　so。　　You　think　that　it　is　not　diverting？〃

〃Yes；　certainly！〃　said　the　priest。

〃And　if　you　were　to　see　the　interior　of　the　chapel！〃　resumed　the　poet；　with　his　garrulous　enthusiasm。　　〃Carvings　everywhere。　'Tis　as　thickly　clustered　as　the　head　of　a　cabbage！　The　apse　is　of　a　very　devout；　and　so　peculiar　a　fashion　that　I　have　never　beheld　anything　like　it　elsewhere！〃

Dom　Claude　interrupted　him；

〃You　are　happy；　then？〃

Gringoire　replied　warmly；

〃On　my　honor；　yes！　　First　I　loved　women；　then　animals。　Now　I　love　stones。　　They　are　quite　as　amusing　as　women　and　animals；　and　less　treacherous。〃

The　priest　laid　his　hand　on　his　brow。　　It　was　his　habitual　gesture。

〃Really？〃

〃Stay！〃　said　Gringoire；　〃one　has　one's　pleasures！〃　He　took　the　arm　of　the　priest；　who　let　him　have　his　way；　and　made　him　enter　the　staircase　turret　of　For…l'Evê