书城公版Notre Dame De Paris
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第129章 BOOK Ⅷ(15)

'Who is this witch?'

'I am sure I do not know.'

'And what is she said to have done?'

Again she shrugged her white shoulders.

'I do not know.'

'Oh,by'r Lord!'exclaimed the mother,'there are so many sorceresses nowadays that they burn them,I dare swear,without knowing their names.As well might you try to know the name of every cloud in heaven.But,after all,we may make ourselves easy;the good God keeps his register above.'Here the venerable lady rose and approached the window.'Lord,'she cried,'you are right,P us,there is indeed a great concourse of the people—some of them even,God save us,on the very roofs!Ah,P us,that brings back to me my young days and the entry of Charles VII,when there were just such crowds—I mind not precisely in what year.When I speak of that to you it doubtless sounds like something very old,but to me it is as fresh as to-day.Oh,it was a far finer crowd than this!Some of them climbed up on to the battlements of the Porte Saint-Antoine.The King had the Queen on the crupper behind him;and after their highnesses came all the ladies mounted behind their lords.I remember,too,there was much laughter because by the side of Amanyon de Garlande,who was very short,there came the Sire Mate-felon,a knight of gigantic stature,who had killed the English in heaps.It was very fine.Then followed a procession of all the nobles of France,with their oriflammes fluttering red before one.There were some with pennons and some with banners—let me think—the Sire de Calan had a pennon,Jean de Chateaumorant a banner,and a richer than any of the others except the Duke of Bourbon.Alas!'tis sad to think that all that has been,and that nothing of it now remains!'

The two young people were not listening to the worthy dowager.P us had returned to lean over the back of his lady-love's chair—a charming post which revealed to his libertine glance so many exquisite things,and enabled him to divine so many more that,ravished by that satin-shimmering skin,he said to himself,'How can one love any but a blonde?'

Neither spoke.The girl lifted to him,from time to time,a glance full of tenderness and devotion,and their locks mingled in a ray of the vernal sunshine.

'P us,'said Fleur-de-Lys suddenly,in a half-whisper,'we are to marry in three months—swear to me that you have never loved any woman but myself.'

'I swear it,fairest angel!'returned P us;and his passionate glance combined with the sincere tone of his voice to convince Fleur-de-Lys of the truth of his assertion.And,who knows,perhaps he believed it himself at the moment.

Meanwhile the good mother,rejoiced to see the two young people in such perfect accord,had left the apartment to attend to some domestic matter.P us was aware of the fact,and this solitude á deux so emboldened the enterprising captain that some strange ideas began to arise in his mind.Fleur-de-Lys loved him—he was betrothed to her—she was alone with him—his old inclination for her had revived—not perhaps in all its primitive freshness,but certainly in all its ardour—after all,it was no great crime to cut a little of one's own corn in the blade.I know not if these thoughts passed distinctly through his mind;but at any rate,Fleur-de-Lys suddenly took alarm at the expression of his countenance.She looked about her and discovered that her mother was gone.

'Heavens!'said she,blushing and uneasy,'I am very hot.'

'I think,indeed,'replied P us,'that it cannot be far from noon.The sun is oppressive—the best remedy is to draw the curtain.'

'No,no!'cried the girl;'on the contrary,it is air I need.'

And like the doe which scents the hounds,she started up,ran to the window,flung it wide,and took refuge on the balcony.P us,not overpleased,followed her.

The Place de Parvis of Notre-Dame,upon which,as the reader is aware,the balcony looked down,presented at that moment a sinister and unusual appearance,which forthwith changed the nature of the timid damoiselle's alarm.

An immense crowd,extending into all the adjacent streets,filled the whole square.The breast-high wall surrounding the Parvis itself would not have sufficed alone to keep it clear;but it was lined by a close hedge of sergeants of the town-guard and arquebusiers,culverin in hand.Thanks to this grove of pikes and arquebuses the Parvis was empty.The entrance to it was guarded by a body of the bishop's halberdiers.The great doors of the church were closed,forming a strong contrast to the innumerable windows round the Place,which,open up to the very gables,showed hundreds of heads piled one above another like the cannon-balls in an artillery ground.The prevailing aspect of this multitude was gray,dirty,repulsive.The spectacle they were awaiting was evidently one that has the distinction of calling forth all that is most bestial and unclean in the populace—impossible to imagine anything more repulsive than the sounds which arose from this seething mass of yellow caps and frowzy heads,and there were fewer shouts than shrill bursts of laughter—more women than men.

From time to time some strident voice pierced the general hum.

'Hi there!Mahiet Baliffre!will they hang her here?'

'Simpleton,this is the penance in her shift—the Almighty is going to cough a little Latin in her face!That is always done here at noon.If'tis the gallows you want,you must go to the Grève.'

'I'll go there afterward.'

'Tell me,La Boucanbry,is it true that she refused to have a confessor?'

'So they say,La Bechaigne.'

'Did you ever see such a heathen?'

'Sir,'tis the custom here.The justiciary of the Palais is bound to deliver up the malefactor,ready sentenced for execution—if a layman,to the Provost of Paris;if a cleric,to the official court of the bishopric.'

'Sir,I thank you.'

'Oh,mon Dieu!'said Fleur-de-Lys,'the poor creature!'