Part 70 (1/2)

”The plan!” repeated Claude in wrath.

Gringoire was radiant.

”Come, that I may tell you that very softly. 'Tis a truly gallant counter-plot, which will extricate us all from the matter. Pardieu, it must be admitted that I am no fool.”

He broke off.

”Oh, by the way! is the little goat with the wench?”

”Yes. The devil take you!”

”They would have hanged it also, would they not?”

”What is that to me?”

”Yes, they would have hanged it. They hanged a sow last month. The headsman loveth that; he eats the beast afterwards. Take my pretty Djali! Poor little lamb!”

”Malediction!” exclaimed Dom Claude. ”You are the executioner. What means of safety have you found, knave? Must your idea be extracted with the forceps?”

”Very fine, master, this is it.”

Gringoire bent his head to the archdeacon's head and spoke to him in a very low voice, casting an uneasy glance the while from one end to the other of the street, though no one was pa.s.sing. When he had finished, Dom Claude took his hand and said coldly: ”'Tis well. Farewell until to-morrow.”

”Until to-morrow,” repeated Gringoire. And, while the archdeacon was disappearing in one direction, he set off in the other, saying to himself in a low voice: ”Here's a grand affair, Monsieur Pierre Gringoire. Never mind! 'Tis not written that because one is of small account one should take fright at a great enterprise. Bitou carried a great bull on his shoulders; the water-wagtails, the warblers, and the buntings traverse the ocean.”

CHAPTER II. TURN VAGABOND.

On re-entering the cloister, the archdeacon found at the door of his cell his brother Jehan du Moulin, who was waiting for him, and who had beguiled the tedium of waiting by drawing on the wall with a bit of charcoal, a profile of his elder brother, enriched with a monstrous nose.

Dom Claude hardly looked at his brother; his thoughts were elsewhere.

That merry scamp's face whose beaming had so often restored serenity to the priest's sombre physiognomy, was now powerless to melt the gloom which grew more dense every day over that corrupted, mephitic, and stagnant soul.

”Brother,” said Jehan timidly, ”I am come to see you.”

The archdeacon did not even raise his eyes.

”What then?”

”Brother,” resumed the hypocrite, ”you are so good to me, and you give me such wise counsels that I always return to you.”

”What next?”

”Alas! brother, you were perfectly right when you said to me,--”Jehan!

Jehan! _cessat doctorum doctrina, discipulorum disciplina_. Jehan, be wise, Jehan, be learned, Jehan, pa.s.s not the night outside of the college without lawful occasion and due leave of the master. Cudgel not the Picards: _noli, Joannes, verberare Picardos_. Rot not like an unlettered a.s.s, _quasi asinus illitteratus_, on the straw seats of the school. Jehan, allow yourself to be punished at the discretion of the master. Jehan go every evening to chapel, and sing there an anthem with verse and orison to Madame the glorious Virgin Mary.”--Alas! what excellent advice was that!”