the hunchback of notre dame-第79节

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in。　　Fleur…de…Lys　loved　him；　he　was　her　betrothed；　she　was　alone　with　him；　his　former　taste　for　her　had　re…awakened；　not　with　all　its　fresh…　ness　but　with　all　its　ardor；　after　all；　there　is　no　great　harm　in　tasting　one's　wheat　while　it　is　still　in　the　blade；　I　do　not　know　whether　these　ideas　passed　through　his　mind；　but　one　thing　is　certain；　that　Fleur…de…Lys　was　suddenly　alarmed　by　the　expression　of　his　glance。　　She　looked　round　and　saw　that　her　mother　was　no　longer　there。

〃Good　heavens！〃　said　she；　blushing　and　uneasy；　〃how　very　warm　I　am？〃

〃I　think；　in　fact；〃　replied　Phoebus；　〃that　it　cannot　be　far　from　midday。　　The　sun　is　troublesome。　　We　need　only　lower　the　curtains。〃

〃No；　no；〃　exclaimed　the　poor　little　thing；　〃on　the　contrary；　I　need　air。〃

And　like　a　fawn　who　feels　the　breath　of　the　pack　of　hounds；　she　rose；　ran　to　the　window；　opened　it；　and　rushed　upon　the　balcony。

Phoebus；　much　discomfited；　followed　her。


The　Place　du　Parvis　Notre…Dame；　upon　which　the　balcony　looked；　as　the　reader　knows；　presented　at　that　moment　a　singular　and　sinister　spectacle　which　caused　the　fright　of　the　timid　Fleur…de…Lys　to　change　its　nature。

An　immense　crowd；　which　overflowed　into　all　the　neighboring　streets；　encumbered　the　Place；　properly　speaking。　　The　little　wall；　breast　high；　which　surrounded　the　Place；　would　not　have　sufficed　to　keep　it　free　had　it　not　been　lined　with　a　thick　hedge　of　sergeants　and　hackbuteers；　culverines　in　hand。　　Thanks　to　this　thicket　of　pikes　and　arquebuses；　the　Parvis　was　empty。　　Its　entrance　was　guarded　by　a　force　of　halberdiers　with　the　armorial　bearings　of　the　bishop。　　The　large　doors　of　the　church　were　closed；　and　formed　a　contrast　with　the　innumerable　windows　on　the　Place；　which；　open　to　their　very　gables；　allowed　a　view　of　thousands　of　heads　heaped　up　almost　like　the　piles　of　bullets　in　a　park　of　artillery。

The　surface　of　this　rabble　was　dingy；　dirty；　earthy。　　The　spectacle　which　it　was　expecting　was　evidently　one　of　the　sort　which　possess　the　privilege　of　bringing　out　and　calling　together　the　vilest　among　the　populace。　　Nothing　is　so　hideous　as　the　noise　which　was　made　by　that　swarm　of　yellow　caps　and　dirty　heads。　　In　that　throng　there　were　more　laughs　than　cries；　more　women　than　men。

From　time　to　time；　a　sharp　and　vibrating　voice　pierced　the　general　clamor。



〃Ohé！　　Mahiet　Baliffre！　　Is　she　to　be　hung　yonder？〃

〃Fool！　t'is　here　that　she　is　to　make　her　apology　in　her　shift！　the　good　God　is　going　to　cough　Latin　in　her　face！　That　is　always　done　here；　at　midday。　　If　'tis　the　gallows　that　you　wish；　go　to　the　Grève。〃

〃I　will　go　there；　afterwards。〃



〃Tell　me；　la　Boucanbry？　　Is　it　true　that　she　has　refused　a　confessor？〃

〃It　appears　so；　La　Bechaigne。〃

〃You　see　what　a　pagan　she　is！〃



〃'Tis　the　custom；　monsieur。　　The　bailiff　of　the　courts　is　bound　to　deliver　the　malefactor　ready　judged　for　execution　if　he　be　a　layman；　to　the　provost　of　Paris；　if　a　clerk；　to　the　official　of　the　bishopric。〃

〃Thank　you；　sir。〃



〃Oh；　God！〃　said　Fleur…de…Lys；　〃the　poor　creature！〃

This　thought　filled　with　sadness　the　glance　which　she　cast　upon　the　populace。　　The　captain；　much　more　occupied　with　her　than　with　that　pack　of　the　rabble；　was　amorously　rumpling　her　girdle　behind。　　She　turned　round；　entreating　and　smiling。

〃Please　let　me　alone；　Phoebus！　　If　my　mother　were　to　return；　she　would　see　your　hand！〃

At　that　moment；　midday　rang　slowly　out　from　the　clock　of　Notre…Dame。　　A　murmur　of　satisfaction　broke　out　in　the　crowd。　　The　last　vibration　of　the　twelfth　stroke　had　hardly　died　away　when　all　heads　surged　like　the　waves　beneath　a　squall；　and　an　immense　shout　went　up　from　the　pavement；　the　windows；　and　the　roofs；

〃There　she　is！〃

Fleur…de…Lys　pressed　her　hands　to　her　eyes；　that　she　might　not　see。

〃Charming　girl；〃　said　Phoebus；　〃do　you　wish　to　withdraw？〃

〃No；〃　she　replied；　and　she　opened　through　curiosity；　the　eyes　which　she　had　closed　through　fear。

A　tumbrel　drawn　by　a　stout　Norman　horse；　and　all　surrounded　by　cavalry　in　violet　livery　with　white　crosses；　had　just　debouched　upon　the　Place　through　the　Rue　Saint…Pierre…　aux…Boeufs。　　The　sergeants　of　the　watch　were　clearing　a　passage　for　it　through　the　crowd；　by　stout　blows　from　their　clubs。　Beside　the　cart　rode　several　officers　of　justice　and　police；　recognizable　by　their　black　costume　and　their　awkwardness　in　the　saddle。　　Master　Jacques　Charmolue　paraded　at　their　head。

In　the　fatal　cart　sat　a　young　girl　with　her　arms　tied　behind　her　back；　and　with　no　priest　beside　her。　　She　was　in　her　shift；　her　long　black　hair　（the　fashion　then　was　to　cut　it　off　only　at　the　foot　of　the　gallows）　fell　in　disorder　upon　her　half…bared　throat　and　shoulders。

Athwart　that　waving　hair；　more　glossy　than　the　plumage　of　a　raven；　a　thick；　rough；　gray　rope　was　visible；　twisted　and　knotted；　chafing　her　delicate　collar…bones　and　twining　round　the　charming　neck　of　the　poor　girl；　like　an　earthworm　round　a　flower。　　Beneath　that　rope　glittered　a　tiny　amulet　ornamented　with　bits　of　green　glass；　which　had　been　left　to　her　no　doubt；　because　nothing　is　refused　to　those　who　are　about　to　die。　　The　spectators　in　the　windows　could　see　in　the　bottom　of　the　cart　her　naked　legs　which　she　strove　to　hide　beneath　her；　as　by　a　final　feminine　instinct。　　At　her　feet　lay　a　little　goat；　bound。　　The　condemned　girl　held　together　with　her　teeth　her　imperfectly　fastened　shift。　　One　would　have　said　that　she　suffered　still　more　in　her　misery　from　being　thus　exposed　almost　naked　to　the　eyes　of　all。　　Alas！　modesty　is　not　made　for　such　shocks。

〃Jesus！〃　said　Fleur…de…Lys　hastily　to　the　captain。　　〃Look　fair　cousin；　'tis　that　wretched　Bohemian　with　the　goat。〃

So　saying；　she　turned　to　Phoebus。　　His　eyes　were　fixed　on　the　tumbrel。　　He　was　very　pale。

〃What　Bohemian　with　the　goat？〃　he　stammered。

〃What！〃　resumed　Fleur…de…Lys；　〃do　you　not　remember？〃

Phoebus　interrupted　her。

〃I　do　not　know　what　you　mean。〃

He　made　a　step　to　re…enter　the　room；　but　Fleur…de…Lys；　whose　jealousy；　previously　so　vividly　aroused　by　this　same　gypsy；　had　just　been　re…awakened；　Fleur…de…Lys　gave　him　a　look　full　of　penetration　and　distrust。　　She　vaguely　recalled　at　that　moment　having　heard　of　a　captain　mixed　up　in　the　trial　of　that　witch。

〃What　is　the　matter　with　you？〃　she　said　to　Phoebus；　〃one　would　say；　that　this　woman　had　disturbed　you。〃

Phoebus　forced　a　sneer；

〃Me！　　Not　the　least　in　the　world！　　Ah！　yes；　certainly！〃

〃Remain；　then！〃　she　continued　imperiously；　〃and　let　us　see　the　end。〃

The　unlucky　captain　was　obliged　to　remain。　　He　was　somewhat　reassured　by　the　fact　that　the　condemned　girl　never　removed　her　eyes　from　the　bottom　of　the　cart。　　It　was　but　too　surely　la　Esmeralda。　　In　this　last　stage　of　opprobrium　and　misfortune；　she　was　still　beautiful；　her　great　black　eyes　appeared　still　larger；　because　of　the　emaciation　of　her　cheeks；　her　pale　profile　was　pure　and　sublime。　　She　resembled　what　she　had　been；　in　the　same　degree　that　a　virgin　by　Masaccio；　resembles　a　virgin　of　Raphael；weaker；　thinner；　more　delicate。

Moreover；　there　was　nothing　in　her　which　was　not　shaken　in　some　sort；　and　which　with　the　exception　of　her　modesty；　she　did　not　let　go　at　will；　so　profoundly　had　she　been　broken　by　stupor　and　despair。　　Her　body　bounded　at　every　jolt　of　the　tumbrel　like　a　dead　or　broken　thing；　her　gaze　was　dull　and　imbecile。　　A　tear　was　still　visible　in　her　eyes；　but　motionless　and　frozen；　so　to　speak。

Meanwhile；　the　lugubrious　cavalcade　has　traversed　the　crowd　amid　cries　of　joy　and　curious　attitudes。　　But　as　a　faithful　historian；　we　must　state　that　on　beholding　her　so　beautiful；　so　depressed；　many　were　moved　with　pity；　even　among　the　hardest　of　them。

The　tumbrel　had　entered　the　Parvis。

It　halted　before　the　central　portal。　　The　escort　ranged　themselves　in　line　on　both　sides。　　The　crowd　became　silent；　and；　in　the　midst　of　this　silence　full　of　anxiety　and　solemnity；　the　two　leaves　of　the　grand　door　swung　back；　as　of　themselves；　on　their　hinges；　which　gave　a　creak　like　the　sound　of　a　fife。　　Then　there　became　visible　in　all　its　length；　the　deep；　gloomy　church；　hung　in　black；　sparely　lighted　with　a　few　candles　gleaming　afar　off　on　the　principal　altar；　opened　in　the　midst　of　the　Place　which　was　dazzling　with　light；　like　the　mouth　of　a　cavern。　　At　the　very　extremity；　in　the　gloom　of　the　apse；　a　gigantic　silver　cross　was　visible　against　a　black　drapery　which　hung　from　the　vault　to　the　pavement。　　The　whole　nave　was　deserted。　　But　a　few　heads　of　priests　could　be　seen　moving　confusedly　in　the　distant　choir　stalls；　and；　at　the　moment　when　the　great　door　opened；　there　escaped　from　the　church　a　loud；　solemn；　and　monotonous　chanting；　which　cast　over　the　head　of　the　condemned　girl；　in　gusts；　fragments　of　melancholy　psalms；

〃~Non　timebo　millia　populi　circumdantis　me：　exsurge；　Domine；　salvum　me　fac；　Deus~！〃

〃~Salvum　me　fac；　Deus；　quoniam　intraverunt　aquoe　usque　ad　animam　meam~。

〃~Infixus　sum　in　limo　profundi；　et　non　est　substantia~。〃

At　the　same　time；　another　voice；　separate　from　the　choir；　intoned　upon　the　steps　of　the　chief　altar；　this　melancholy　offertory；…

〃~Qui　verbum　meum　audit；　et　credit　ei　qui　misit　me；　habet　vitam　oeternam　et　in　judicium　non　venit；　sed　transit　a　morte　im　vitam~