Notre Dame de Paris - Bartleby.com

one of them from father to son!”
The mirth redoubled. The portly furrier answered never a word, but did his best to escape the attention
directed to him from all sides; but he puffed and panted in vain. Like a wedge being driven into wood,
his struggles only served to fix his broad apoplectic face, purple with anger and vexation, more firmly
between the shoulders of his neighbours.
At last one of these neighbours, fat, pursy, and worthy as himself, came to his aid.
“Out upon these graceless scholars who dare to address a burgher in such a manner! In my day they
would have first been beaten with sticks, and then burnt on them.”
This set the whole band agog.
“Holà! hé! what tune’s this? Who’s that old bird of ill omen?”
“Oh, I know him!” exclaimed one; “it’s Maître Andry Musnier.”
“Yes, he’s one of the four booksellers by appointment to the University,” said another.
“Everything goes by fours in that shop!” cried a third. “Four nations, four faculties, four holidays, four
procurators, four electors, four booksellers.”
“Very good,” returned Jehan Frollo, “we’ll quadruple the devil for them.”
“Musnier, we’ll burn thy books.”
“Musnier, we’ll beat thy servants.”
“Musnier, we’ll tickle thy wife.”
“The good, plump Mlle. Oudarde.”
“Who is as buxom and merry as if she were already a widow.”
“The devil fly away with you all,” growled Maître Andry Musnier.
“Maître Andry,” said Jehan, still hanging fast to his capital, “hold thy tongue, or I fall plump on thy
head.”
Maître Andry looked up, appeared to calculate for a moment the height of the pillar and the weight of
the little rascal, mentally multiplied that weight by the square of the velocity—and held his peace.
Whereupon Jehan, left master of the field, added triumphantly, “And I’d do it too, though I am the
brother of an archdeacon.”
“A fine set of gentlemen those of ours at the University, not even on a day like this do they see that we
get our rights. There’s a may-pole and a bonfire in the town, a Fool’s Pope and Flemish ambassadors in
the city, but at the University, nothing!”
“And yet the Place Maubert is large enough,” observed one of the youngsters, ensconced in a corner of
the window-ledge.
“Down with the Rector, the electors, and the procurators!” yelled Jehan.