'My charmer，'tis moonlight；look through that loophole how the wind rumples the clouds—just as I do with thy kerchief.Girls，snuff the children and the candles.Christ and Mahomet！what am I eating now？Hey there，old jade！the hairs that are missing from the heads of thy trulls we find in the omelets！Hark ye，old lady，I prefer my omelets bald.May the devil flatten thy nose！A fine tavern of Beelzebub，in sooth，where the wenches comb themselves with the forks！'
With which he smashed his plate on the floor and began singing in an ear-splitting voice：
'By the blood of Christ，
I lay no store By faith or law，
Neither hearth nor home Do I call my own，
Nor God，
Nor King！'
By this time Clopin Trouillefou had finished distributing his arms.Approaching Gringoire，who seemed plunged in profound reverie，his feet on a log：
'Friend Pierre，'said the King of Tunis，'what the devil art thinking about？'
Gringoire turned to him with a melancholy smile.'I love the fire，my dear sir.Not for the trivial reason that it warms our feet and cooks our soup，but because it throws out sparks.Sometimes I pass whole hours watching the sparks.I discover a host of things in those stars that sprinkle the dark background of the fire-place.Those stars are worlds.'
'The fiend take me if I understand thee，'said the Vagabond.'Dost thou know what's o'clock？'
'I do not，'answered Gringoire.Clopin went to the Duke of Egypt.
'Comrade Mathias，the moment is ill-chosen.They say King Louis is in Paris.'
'All the more need for getting our sister out of his clutches，'answered the old Bohemian.
'You speak like a man，Mathias，'returned the King of Tunis.'Besides，it will be an easy matter.There's no resistance to fear in the church.The priests are so many hares，and we are in full force.The men of the Parliament will be finely balked to-morrow when they come to fetch her！By the bowels of the Pope，they shall not hang the pretty creature！'
Clopin then left the tavern.
In the meantime Jehan was shouting hoarsely：'I drink—I eat—I'm drunk—I am Jupiter！Ah，Pierre l'Assommeur，if thou glarest at me again in that manner，I'll dust thy nose with my fist！'
Gringoire，on his part，aroused from his meditations，was contemplating the wild scene of license and uproar around him，while he murmured to himself：'Luxuriosa res vinum et tumultuosa ebrietas.5 Ah，how wise am I to eschew drinking，and how excellent is the saying of Saint-Benedict：Vinum apostatare facit etiam sapientes！'6
At this moment Clopin returned and shouted in a voice of thunder，'Midnight！'
The word acted on the truands like the order to mount on a regiment，and the entire band—men，women，and children—poured out of the tavern with a great clatter of arms and iron.The moon was obscured.The Court of Miracles lay in utter darkness—not a single light was to be seen，but it was far from being deserted.A great crowd of men and women stood in the Place talking to one another in low voices.There was a continuous deep hum，and many a weapon flashed in the gloom.
Clopin mounted on a great stone.'To your ranks，Argot！'cried he.'To your ranks，Egypt！To your ranks，Galilee！'
A movement ran through the darkness.The vast multitude seemed to be forming in columns.After a few minutes the King of Tunis once more lifted up his voice：
'Now，then，silence on the march through Paris！The password is‘Dagger in pouch.'Torches not to be lighted till we reach Notre-Dame！March！'
Ten minutes later the horsemen of the night-watch were fleeing in terror before a long procession，black and silent，pouring down towards the Pont-au-Change through the tortuous streets that run in every direction through the dense quarter of the Halles.
1 Slang term for ready money，hard cash.
2 What chants！what instruments！what songs and melodies without end are sung here！Hymns from mellifluous pipes are sounding，sweetest of angels'melodies，the most wonderful song of all songs.
3 Obsolete goldsmith weight of 28 4/5 grains.
4 It is not given to every one to have a nose.
5 A dissolute thing is wine and leads to noisy intoxication.
6 The avoiding of wine also makes a man wise.
Chapter 4-An Awkward Friend
Quasimodo on that night was not asleep.He had just gone his last round through the church.He had failed to remark that at the moment when he was closing the doors the Archdeacon had passed near him and evinced some annoyance at seeing him bolt and padlock with care the enormous iron bars which gave the wide doors the solidity of a wall.Dom Claude seemed even more preoccupied than usual.Moreover，since the nocturnal adventure in the cell，he treated Quasimodo with constant unkindness；but in vain he used him harshly，sometimes even striking him—nothing could shake the submissive patience，the devoted resignation of the faithful bell-ringer.From the Archdeacon he would endure anything—abuse，threats，blows—without a murmur of reproach，without even a sigh of complaint.The utmost that he did was to follow Dom Claude with an anxious eye if he mounted the stair of the tower；but the Archdeacon had of himself abstained from appearing again before the gipsy girl.
That night，then，Quasimodo，after a glance at his poor forsaken bells，Jacqueline，Marie，Thibauld，had ascended to the top of the northern tower，and there，after setting down his dark-lantern on the leads，he fell to contemplating Paris.The night，as we have said，was very dark.Paris，which，speaking broadly，was not lighted at all at that period，presented to the eye a confused mass of black blots，cut here and there by the pale windings of the river.Quasimodo saw not a light except in the window of a distant edifice，whose vague and sombre outline was distinguishable high above the roofs in the direction of the Porte Saint-Antoine.Here，too，some one kept vigil.