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 I thinking of to thrust myself into that stone gimlet which pierces the sky； all for the sake of eating bearded cheese， and looking at the bell-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 in contemplation before a carving on the front.He approached them on tiptoe， and heard the archdeacon say in a low tone to Charmolue：“'Twas Guillaume de Paris who caused a Job to be carved upon this stone of the hue of lapis-lazuli， gilded on the edges.Job represents the philosopher's stone， which must also be tried and martyrized in order to become perfect， as saith Raymond Lulle：Sub conservatione formoe speciftoe salva anima.”
“That makes no difference to me， ”said Jehan， “'tis I who have the purse.”
At that moment he heard a powerful and sonorous voice articulate behind him a formidable series of oaths.“Sang Dieu！Ventre-Dieu！Bé-Dieu！Corps de Dieu！Nombril de Belzebuth！Nom d'un pape！Come et tonnerre.”
“Upon my soul！”exclaimed Jehan， “that can only be my friend， Captain Phoebus！”
This name of Phoebus reached the ears of the archdeacon at the moment when he was explaining to the king's procurator the dragon which is hiding its tail in a bath， from which issue smoke and the head of a king. Dom Claude started， interrupted himself and， to the great amazement of Charmolue， turned round and beheld his brother Jehan accosting a tall officer at the door of the Gondelaurier mansion.
It was， in fact， Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers. He was backed up against a corner of the house of his betrothed and swearing like a heathen.
“By my faith！Captain Phoebus， ”said Jehan， taking him by the hand， “you are cursing with admirable vigor.”
“Horns and thunder！”replied the captain.
“Horns and thunder yourself！”replied the student.“Come now， fair captain， whence comes this overflow of fine words？”
“Pardon me， good comrade Jehan， ”exclaimed Phoebus， shaking his hand， “a horse going at a gallop cannot halt short. Now， I was swearing at a hard gallop.I have just been with those prudes， and when I come forth， I always 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 and simplicity.Meanwhile， the archdeacon， who had abandoned the dumbfounded Charmolue where he stood， had approached them and halted a few paces distant， watching them without their noticing him， so deeply were they absorbed in contemplation of the purse.
Phoebus exclaimed：“A purse in your pocket， Jehan！ 'tis the moon in a bucket of water， one sees it there but 'tis not there. There is nothing but 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 neighboring post， 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 eagle liards！ 'Tis dazzling！”
An ancient copper coin， the forty-fourth part of a sou or the twelfth part of a farthing.
Jehan remained dignified and immovable. Several liards had rolled into the mud； the captain in his enthusiasm stooped to pick them up.Jehan restrained him.
“Fye， Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers！”
Phoebus counted the coins， and turning towards Jehan with solemnity， “Do you know， Jehan， that there are three and twenty sous parisis！Whom have you plundered to-night， in the Street Cut-Weazand？”
Jehan flung back his blonde and curly head， and said， half-closing his eyes 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 basket handle； 'tis a rebus， and I like that.”
“A plague on rebuses， Jehan！the wine is better at 'Eve's Apple'； and then， beside the door there is a vine in the sun which cheers me while I am drinking.”
“Well！here goes for Eve and her apple， ”said the student， and taking Phoebus's arm.“By the way， my dear captain， you just mentioned the Rue Coupe-Gueule That is a very bad form of speech； people are no longer so barbarous. They say， Coupe-Gorge.”
The two friends set out towards“Eve's Apple.”It is unnecessary to mention that they had first gathered up the money， and that the archdeacon followed them.
The archdeacon followed them， gloomy and haggard. Was this the phoebus whose accursed name had been mingled with all his thoughts ever since his interview with Gringoire？He did not know it， but it was at least a Phoebus， and that magic name sufficed to make the archdeacon follow the two heedless comrades with the stealthy tread of a wolf， listening to their words and observing their slightest gestures with anxious attention.Moreover， nothing was easier than to hear everything they said， as they talked loudly， not in the least concerned that the passers-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 from a 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 make haste， she will recognize me.I don't want to have that girl accost me in the street.”
“Do you know her， Phoebus？”
Here the archdeacon saw Phoebus sneer， bend down to Jehan's ear， and say a few words to him in a low voice； then Phoebus burst into a laugh， and shook 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 whole of this conversation. His teeth chattered； a visible shiver ran through his whole body.He halted for a moment， leaned against a post like a drunken man， then followed the two merry knaves.
At the moment when he overtook them once more， they had changed their conversation. He heard them singing at the top of their lungs the ancient refrain， —
Les enfants des Petits-Carreaux
Se font pendre cornme des veaux
Chapter7 The Mysterious Monk
The illustrious wine shop of“Eve's Apple”was situated in the University， at the corner of the Rue de la Rondelle and the Rue de la Batonnier.It was a very spacious and very low hail on the ground floor， with a vaulted ceiling whose central spring rested upon a huge pillar of wood painted yellow； tables everywhere， shining pewter jugs hanging on the walls， always a large number of drinkers， a plenty of wenches， a window on the street， a vine at the door， and over the door a flaring piece of sheet-iron， painted with an apple and a woman， rusted by the rain and turning with the wind on an iron pin.This species of weather-vane which looked upon the pavement was the signboard.
Night was falling； the square was dark； the wine-shop， full of candles， flamed afar like a forge in the gloom； the noise of glasses and feasting， of oaths and quarrels， which escaped through the broken panes， was audible.Through the mist which the warmth of the room spread over the window in front， a hundred confused figures could be seen swarming， and from time to time a burst of noisy laughter broke forth from it.The passers-by who were going about their business， slipped past this tumultuous window without glancing at it.Only at intervals did some little ragged boy raise himself on tiptoe as far as the ledge， and hurl into the drinking-shop， that ancient， jeering hoot， with which drunken men were then pursued：“Aux Houls， saouls， saouls， saouls！”
Nevertheless， one man paced imperturbably back and forth in front of the tavern， gazing at it incessantly， and going no further from it than a pikeman from his sentry-box. He was enveloped in a mantle to his very nose.This mantle he had just purchased of the old-clothes man， in the vicinity of the“Eve's Apple， ”no doubt to protect himself from the cold of the March evening， possibly also， to conceal his costume.From time to time he paused in front of the dim window with its leaden lattice， listened， looked， and stamped his foot.
At length the door of the dram-shop opened. This was what he appeared to be waiting for.Two boon companions came forth.The ray of light which escaped from the door crimsoned for a moment their jovial faces.
The man in the mantle went and stationed himself on the watch under a porch on the other side of the street.
“Corne et tonnerre！”said one of the comrades.“Seven o'clock is on the point of striking. 'Tis the hour of my appointed meeting.”
“I tell you， ”repeated his companion， with a thick tongue， “that I don't live in the Rue des Mauvaises Paroles， indignus qui inter mala verba habitat. I have a lodging in the Rue Jean-Pain-Mollet， in vico Johannis Pain-Mollet.You are more horned than a unicorn if you assert the contrary.Every one knows that he who once mounts astride a bear is never after afraid； but you have a nose turned to dainties like Saint-Jacques of the hospital.”
“Jehan， my friend， you are drunk， ”said the other.
The other replied staggering， “It pleases you to say so， Phoebus； but it hath been proved that Plato had the profile of a hound.”
The reader has， no doubt， already recognized our two brave friends， the captain and the scholar. It appears that the man who was lying in wait for them had also recognized them， for he slowly followed all the zigzags that the scholar caused the captain to make， who being a.more hardened drinker had retained all his self-possession.By listening to them attentively， the man in the mantle could catch in its entirety the following interesting conversation， —
“Corbacque！Do try to walk straight， master bachelor； you know that I must leave you. Here it is seven o'clock.I have an appointment with a woman.”
“Leave me then！I see stars and lances of fire. You are like the Chateau de Dampmartin， which is bursting with laughter.”
“By the warts of my grandmother， Jehan， you are raving with too much rabidness. By the way， Jehan， have you any money left？”
“Monsieur Rector， there is no mistake； the little butcher's shop， parva boucheria.”
“Jehau！my friend Jehan！You know that I made an appointment with that little girl at the end of the Pont Saint-Michel， and I can only take her to the Falourdel's， the old crone of the bridge， and that I must pay for a chamber. The old witch with a white moustache would not trust me.Jehan！for pity's sake！Have we drunk up the whole of the cur？s purse？Have you not a single parisis left？”
“The consciousness of having spent the other hours well is a just and savory condiment for the table.”
“Belly and guts！a truce to your whimsical nonsense！Tell me， Jehan of the devil！have you any money left？Give it to me， by heaven！”or I will search you， were you as leprous as Job， and as scabby as Caesar！”
“Monsieur， the Rue Galiache is a street which hath at one end the Rue de la Verrerie， and at the other the Rue de la Tixeranderie.”
“Well， yes！my good friend Jehan， my poor comrade， the Rue Galiache is good， very good. But in the name of heaven collect your wits.I must have a sou parisis， and the appointment is for seven o'clock.”
“Silence for the rondo， and attention to the refrain， —
'Quand les rats mangeront les cas，
Le roi sera seigneur d'Arras；
Quand la mer， qui est grande et le（e）
Sera a la Saint-Jean gele（e），
On verra， par-dessus la glace，
Sortir ceux d'Arras de leur place.'
“Well， scholar of Antichrist， may you be strangled with the entrails of your mother！”exclaimed Phoebus， and he gave the drunken scholar a rough push； the latter slipped against the wall， and slid flabbily to the pavement of Philip Augustus.A remnant of fraternal pity， which never abandons the heart of a drinker， prompted Phoebus to roll Jehan with his foot upon one of those pillows of the poor， which Providence keeps in readiness at the corner of all the street posts of Paris， and which the rich blight with the name of“a rubbish-heap.”The captain adjusted Jehan's head upon an inclined plane of cabbage-stumps， and on the very instant， the scholar fell to snoring in a magnificent bass. Meanwhile， all malice was not extinguished in the captain's heart.“So much the worse if the devil's cart picks you up on its passage！”he said to the poor， sleeping clerk； and he strode off.
The man in the mantle， who had not ceased to follow him， halted for a moment before the prostrate scholar， as though agitated by indecision； then， uttering a profound sigh， he also strode off in pursuit of the captain.
We， like them， will leave Jehan to slumber beneath the open sky， and will follow them also， if it pleases the reader.
On emerging into the Rue Saint-Andr？des-Arcs， Captain Phoebus perceived that some one was following him. On glancing sideways by chance， he perceived a sort of shadow crawling after him along the walls.He halted， it halted； he resumed his march， it resumed its march.This disturbed him not overmuch.“Ah， bah！”he said to himself， “I have not a sou.”
He paused in front of the College d'Autun. It was at this college that he had sketched out what he called his studies， and， through a scholar's teasing habit which still lingered in him， he never passed the front without inflicting on the statue of Cardinal Pierre Bertrand， sculptured to the right of the portal， the affront of which Priapus complains so bitterly in the satire of Horace， Olim truncus eram ficulnus.He had done this with so much unrelenting animosity that the inion， Eduensis episcopus， had become almost effaced.Therefore， he halted before the statue according to his wont.The street was utterly deserted.At the moment when he was coolly retying his shoulder knots， with his nose in the air， he saw the shadow approaching him with slow steps， so slow that he had ample time to observe that this shadow wore a cloak and a hat.On arriving near him， it halted and remained more motionless than the statue of Cardinal Bertrand.Meanwhile， it riveted upon Phoebus two intent eyes， full of that vague light which issues in the night time from the pupils of a cat.
The captain was brave， and would have cared very little for a highwayman， with a rapier in his hand. But this walking statue， this petrified man， froze his blood.There were then in circulation， strange stories of a surly monk， a nocturnal prowler about the streets of Paris， and they recurred confusedly to his memory.He remained for several minutes in stupefaction， and finally broke the silence with a forced laugh.
“Monsieur， if you are a robber， as I hope you are， you produce upon me the effect of a heron attacking a nutshell. I am the son of a ruined family， my dear fellow.Try your hand near by here.In the chapel of this college there is some wood of the true cross set in silver.”
The hand of the shadow emerged from beneath its mantle and descended upon the arm of Phoebus with the grip of an eagle's talon； at the same time the shadow spoke， —
“Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers！”
What， the devil！”said Phoebus， “you know my name！”
“I know not your name alone， ”continued the man in the mantle， with his sepulchral voice.“You have a rendezvous this evening.”
“Yes， ”replied Phoebus in amazement.
“At seven o'clock.”
“In a quarter of an hour.”
“At la Falourdel's.”
“Precisely.”
“The lewd hag of the Pont Saint-Michel.”
“Of Saint Michel the archangel， as the Pater Noster saith.”
“Impious wretch！”muttered the spectre.“With a woman？”
“Confiteor， —I confess—.”
“Who is called—？”
“La Smeralda， ”said Phoebus， gayly. All his heedlessness had gradually returned.
At this name， the shadow's grasp shook the arm of Phoebus in a fury.
“Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers， thou liest！”
Any one who could have beheld at that moment the captain's inflamed countenance， his leap backwards， so violent that he disengaged himself from the grip which held him， the proud air with which he clapped his hand on his swordhilt， and， in the presence of this wrath the gloomy immobility of the man in the cloak， —any one who could have beheld this would have been frightened. There was in it a touch of the combat of Don Juan and the statue.
“Christ and Satan！”exclaimed the captain.“That is a word which rarely strikes the ear of a Chateaupers！Thou wilt not dare repeat it.”
“Thou liest！”said the shadow coldly.
The captain gnashed his teeth. Surly monk， phantom， superstitions—he had forgotten all at that moment.He no longer beheld anything but a man， and an insult.
“Ah！this is well！”he stammered， in a voice stifled with rage. He drew his sword， then stammering， for anger as well as fear makes a man tremble：“Here！On the spot！Come on！Swords！Swords！Blood on the pavement！”
But the other never stirred. When he beheld his adversary on guard and ready to parry， —
“Captain Phoebus， ”he said， and his tone vibrated with bitterness， “you forget your appointment.”
The rages of men like Phoebus are milk-soups， whose ebullition is calmed by a drop of cold water. This simple remark caused the sword which glittered in the captain's hand to be lowered.
“Captain， ”pursued the man， “to-morrow， the day after to-morrow， a month hence， ten years hence， you will find me ready to cut your throat； but go first to your rendezvous.”
“In sooth， ”said Phoebus， as though seeking to capitulate with himself， “these are two charming things to be encountered in a rendezvous， —a sword and a wench； but I do not see why I should miss the one for the sake of the other， when I can have both.”
He replaced his sword in its scabbard.
“Go to your rendezvous， ”said the man.
“Monsieur， ”replied Phoebus with some embarrassment， “many thanks for your courtesy.In fact， there will be ample time to-morrow for us to chop up father Adam's doublet into slashes and buttonholes.I am obliged to you for allowing me to pass one more agreeable quarter of an hour.I certainly did hope to put you in the gutter， and still arrive in time for the fair one， especially as it has a better appearance to make the women wait a little in such cases. But you strike me as having the air of a gallant man， and it is safer to defer our affair until to-morrow.So I will betake myself to my rendezvous； it is for seven o'clock， as you know.”Here Phoebus scratched his ear.“Ah.Corne Dieu！I had forgotten！I haven't a sou to discharge the price of the garret， and the old crone will insist on being paid in advance.She distrusts me.”
“Here is the wherewithal to pay.”
