Nils Jakobi
360562397c
All checks were successful
continuous-integration/drone/push Build is passing
99 lines
4.4 KiB
Markdown
99 lines
4.4 KiB
Markdown
---
|
||
date: 2017-04-14T11:25:05-04:00
|
||
description: "Esmeralda"
|
||
featured_image: "/images/esmeralda.jpg"
|
||
tags: []
|
||
title: "Chapter VI: Esmeralda"
|
||
---
|
||
We are delighted to be able to inform the reader, that during the whole of
|
||
this scene, Gringoire and his piece had stood firm. His actors, spurred on
|
||
by him, had not ceased to spout his comedy, and he had not ceased to
|
||
listen to it. He had made up his mind about the tumult, and was determined
|
||
to proceed to the end, not giving up the hope of a return of attention on
|
||
the part of the public. This gleam of hope acquired fresh life, when he
|
||
saw Quasimodo, Coppenole, and the deafening escort of the pope of the
|
||
procession of fools quit the hall amid great uproar. The throng rushed
|
||
eagerly after them. “Good,” he said to himself, “there go all the
|
||
mischief-makers.” Unfortunately, all the mischief-makers constituted the
|
||
entire audience. In the twinkling of an eye, the grand hall was empty.
|
||
|
||
To tell the truth, a few spectators still remained, some scattered, others
|
||
in groups around the pillars, women, old men, or children, who had had
|
||
enough of the uproar and tumult. Some scholars were still perched astride
|
||
of the window-sills, engaged in gazing into the Place.
|
||
|
||
“Well,” thought Gringoire, “here are still as many as are required to hear
|
||
the end of my mystery. They are few in number, but it is a choice
|
||
audience, a lettered audience.”
|
||
|
||
An instant later, a symphony which had been intended to produce the
|
||
greatest effect on the arrival of the Virgin, was lacking. Gringoire
|
||
perceived that his music had been carried off by the procession of the
|
||
Pope of the Fools. “Skip it,” said he, stoically.
|
||
|
||
He approached a group of bourgeois, who seemed to him to be discussing his
|
||
piece. This is the fragment of conversation which he caught,—
|
||
|
||
“You know, Master Cheneteau, the Hôtel de Navarre, which belonged to
|
||
Monsieur de Nemours?”
|
||
|
||
“Yes, opposite the Chapelle de Braque.”
|
||
|
||
“Well, the treasury has just let it to Guillaume Alixandre, historian, for
|
||
six hivres, eight sols, parisian, a year.”
|
||
|
||
“How rents are going up!”
|
||
|
||
“Come,” said Gringoire to himself, with a sigh, “the others are
|
||
listening.”
|
||
|
||
“Comrades,” suddenly shouted one of the young scamps from the window, “La
|
||
Esmeralda! La Esmeralda in the Place!”
|
||
|
||
This word produced a magical effect. Every one who was left in the hall
|
||
flew to the windows, climbing the walls in order to see, and repeating,
|
||
“La Esmeralda! La Esmeralda?” At the same time, a great sound of applause
|
||
was heard from without.
|
||
|
||
“What’s the meaning of this, of the Esmeralda?” said Gringoire, wringing
|
||
his hands in despair. “Ah, good heavens! it seems to be the turn of the
|
||
windows now.”
|
||
|
||
He returned towards the marble table, and saw that the representation had
|
||
been interrupted. It was precisely at the instant when Jupiter should have
|
||
appeared with his thunder. But Jupiter was standing motionless at the foot
|
||
of the stage.
|
||
|
||
“Michel Giborne!” cried the irritated poet, “what are you doing there? Is
|
||
that your part? Come up!”
|
||
|
||
“Alas!” said Jupiter, “a scholar has just seized the ladder.”
|
||
|
||
Gringoire looked. It was but too true. All communication between his plot
|
||
and its solution was intercepted.
|
||
|
||
“The rascal,” he murmured. “And why did he take that ladder?”
|
||
|
||
“In order to go and see the Esmeralda,” replied Jupiter piteously. “He
|
||
said, ‘Come, here’s a ladder that’s of no use!’ and he took it.”
|
||
|
||
This was the last blow. Gringoire received it with resignation.
|
||
|
||
“May the devil fly away with you!” he said to the comedian, “and if I get
|
||
my pay, you shall receive yours.”
|
||
|
||
Then he beat a retreat, with drooping head, but the last in the field,
|
||
like a general who has fought well.
|
||
|
||
And as he descended the winding stairs of the courts: “A fine rabble of
|
||
asses and dolts these Parisians!” he muttered between his teeth; “they
|
||
come to hear a mystery and don’t listen to it at all! They are engrossed
|
||
by every one, by Chopin Trouillefou, by the cardinal, by Coppenole, by
|
||
Quasimodo, by the devil! but by Madame the Virgin Mary, not at all. If I
|
||
had known, I’d have given you Virgin Mary; you ninnies! And I! to come to
|
||
see faces and behold only backs! to be a poet, and to reap the success of
|
||
an apothecary! It is true that Homerus begged through the Greek towns, and
|
||
that Naso died in exile among the Muscovites. But may the devil flay me if
|
||
I understand what they mean with their Esmeralda! What is that word, in
|
||
the first place?—‘tis Egyptian!”
|