Notre Dame de Paris - Bartleby.com

“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 Clop in Trouillefou had finished distributing his arms. Approaching Grainier, who seemed
plunged in profound reverie, his feet on a log:
“Friend Pierre,” said the King of Tunis, “what the devil art thinking about?”
Grainier 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 fireplace. 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 Grainier. Clop in went to the Duke of Egypt.
“Comrade Manias, 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, Manias,” 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!”
Clop in then left the tavern.
In the meantime Jean 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!”
Grainier, 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. 87 Ah,
how wise am I to eschew drinking, and how excellent is the saying of Saint-Benedict: Vinum apostatare
facit etiam sapientes!” 88
At this moment Clop in returned and shouted in a voice of thunder, “Midnight!”