"Pierre l'Assommeur and Baptiste Croque-Oison*."* Peter the Slaughterer; and Baptist Crack-Gosling.
"Hum," said the archdeacon; "those are names as fit for a good work as a catapult for the chief altar."It is certain that Jehan had made a very bad choice of names for his two friends. He realized it too late.
"And then," pursued the sagacious Claude, "what sort of an infant's outfit is it that is to cost three forms, and that for the child of a Haudriette? Since when have the Haudriette widows taken to having babes in swaddling-clothes?"Jehan broke the ice once more.
"Eh, well! yes! I need money in order to go and see Isabeau la Thierrye to-night; in the Val-d' Amour!""Impure wretch!" exclaimed the priest.
"~Avayveia~!" said Jehan.
This quotation, which the scholar borrowed with malice, perchance, from the wall of the cell, produced a singular effect on the archdeacon. He bit his lips and his wrath was drowned in a crimson flush.
"Begone," he said to Jehan. "I am expecting some one."The scholar made one more effort.
"Brother Claude, give me at least one little parisis to buy something to eat.""How far have you gone in the Decretals of Gratian?"demanded Dom Claude.
"I have lost my copy books.
"Where are you in your Latin humanities?"
"My copy of Horace has been stolen."
"Where are you in Aristotle?"
"I' faith! brother what father of the church is it, who says that the errors of heretics have always had for their lurking place the thickets of Aristotle's metaphysics? A plague on Aristotle! I care not to tear my religion on his metaphysics.""Young man," resumed the archdeacon, "at the king's last entry, there was a young gentleman, named Philippe de Comines, who wore embroidered on the housings of his horse this device, upon which I counsel you to meditate: ~Qui non laborat, non manducet~."The scholar remained silent for a moment, with his finger in his ear, his eyes on the ground, and a discomfited mien.
All at once he turned round to Claude with the agile quickness of a wagtail.
"So, my good brother, you refuse me a sou parisis, wherewith to buy a crust at a baker's shop?""~Qui non laborat, non manducet~."
At this response of the inflexible archdeacon, Jehan hid his head in his hands, like a woman sobbing, and exclaimed with an expression of despair: "~Orororororoi~.""What is the meaning of this, sir?" demanded Claude, surprised at this freak.
"What indeed!" said the scholar; and he lifted to Claude his impudent eyes into which he had just thrust his fists in order to communicate to them the redness of tears; "'tis Greek! 'tis an anapaest of AEschylus which expresses grief perfectly."And here he burst into a laugh so droll and violent that it made the archdeacon smile. It was Claude's fault, in fact: why had he so spoiled that child?
"Oh! good Brother Claude," resumed Jehan, emboldened by this smile, "look at my worn out boots. Is there a cothurnus in the world more tragic than these boots, whose soles are hanging out their tongues?"The archdeacon promptly returned to his original severity.
"I will send you some new boots, but no money.""Only a poor little parisis, brother," continued the suppliant Jehan. "I will learn Gratian by heart, I will believe firmly in God, I will be a regular Pythagoras of science and virtue. But one little parisis, in mercy! Would you have famine bite me with its jaws which are gaping in front of me, blacker, deeper, and more noisome than a Tartarus or the nose of a monk?"Dom Claude shook his wrinkled head: "~Qui non laborat~--"Jehan did not allow him to finish.
"Well," he exclaimed, "to the devil then! Long live joy! Iwill live in the tavern, I will fight, I will break pots and I will go and see the wenches." And thereupon, he hurled his cap at the wall, and snapped his fingers like castanets.
The archdeacon surveyed him with a gloomy air.
"Jehan, you have no soul."
"In that case, according to Epicurius, I lack a something made of another something which has no name.""Jehan, you must think seriously of amending your ways.""Oh, come now," cried the student, gazing in turn at his brother and the alembics on the furnace, "everything is preposterous here, both ideas and bottles!""Jehan, you are on a very slippery downward road. Do you know whither you are going?""To the wine-shop," said Jehan.
"The wine-shop leads to the pillory."
"'Tis as good a lantern as any other, and perchance with that one, Diogenes would have found his man.""The pillory leads to the gallows."
"The gallows is a balance which has a man at one end and the whole earth at the other. 'Tis fine to be the man.""The gallows leads to hell."
"'Tis a big fire.".
"Jehan, Jehan, the end will be bad."
"The beginning will have been good."
At that moment, the sound of a footstep was heard on the staircase.
"Silence!" said the archdeacon, laying his finger on his mouth, "here is Master Jacques. Listen, Jehan," he added, in a low voice; "have a care never to speak of what you shall have seen or heard here. Hide yourself quickly under the furnace, and do not breathe."The scholar concealed himself; just then a happy idea occurred to him.
"By the way, Brother Claude, a form for not breathing.""Silence! I promise."
"You must give it to me."
"Take it, then!" said the archdeacon angrily, flinging his purse at him.
Jehan darted under the furnace again, and the door opened.