the hunchback of notre dame-第77节

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〃Oh　my　daughter！〃　she　said；　〃my　daughter；　my　poor；　dear　little　child；　so　I　shall　never　see　thee　more！　　It　is　over！　It　always　seems　to　me　that　it　happened　yesterday！　　My　God！　my　God！　it　would　have　been　better　not　to　give　her　to　me　than　to　take　her　away　so　soon。　　Did　you　not　know　that　our　children　are　part　of　ourselves；　and　that　a　mother　who　has　lost　her　child　no　longer　believes　in　God？　　Ah！　　wretch　that　I　am　to　have　gone　out　that　day！　　Lord！　　Lord！　to　have　taken　her　from　me　thus；　you　could　never　have　looked　at　me　with　her；　when　I　was　joyously　warming　her　at　my　fire；　when　she　laughed　as　she　suckled；　when　I　made　her　tiny　feet　creep　up　my　breast　to　my　lips？　　Oh！　if　you　had　looked　at　that；　my　God；　you　would　have　taken　pity　on　my　joy；　you　would　not　have　taken　from　me　the　only　love　which　lingered；　in　my　heart！　Was　I　then；　Lord；　so　miserable　a　creature；　that　you　could　not　look　at　me　before　condemning　me？Alas！　　Alas！　here　is　the　shoe；　where　is　the　foot？　where　is　the　rest？　　Where　is　the　child？　　My　daughter！　my　daughter！　what　did　they　do　with　thee？　　Lord；　give　her　back　to　me。　　My　knees　have　been　worn　for　fifteen　years　in　praying　to　thee；　my　God！　　Is　not　that　enough？　　Give　her　back　to　me　one　day；　one　hour；　one　minute；　one　minute；　Lord！　　and　then　cast　me　to　the　demon　for　all　eternity！　　Oh！　if　I　only　knew　where　the　skirt　of　your　garment　trails；　I　would　cling　to　it　with　both　hands；　and　you　would　be　obliged　to　give　me　back　my　child！　　Have　you　no　pity　on　her　pretty　little　shoe？　　Could　you　condemn　a　poor　mother　to　this　torture　for　fifteen　years？　　Good　Virgin！　good　Virgin　of　heaven！　my　infant　Jesus　has　been　taken　from　me；　has　been　stolen　from　me；　they　devoured　her　on　a　heath；　they　drank　her　blood；　they　cracked　her　bones！　　Good　Virgin；　have　pity　upon　me。　　My　daughter；　I　want　my　daughter！　　What　is　it　to　me　that　she　is　in　paradise？　　I　do　not　want　your　angel；　I　want　my　child！　　I　am　a　lioness；　I　want　my　whelp。　　Oh！　　I　will　writhe　on　the　earth；　I　will　break　the　stones　with　my　forehead；　and　I　will　damn　myself；　and　I　will　curse　you；　Lord；　if　you　keep　my　child　from　me！　you　see　plainly　that　my　arms　are　all　bitten；　Lord！　　Has　the　good　God　no　mercy？Oh！　give　me　only　salt　and　black　bread；　only　let　me　have　my　daughter　to　warm　me　like　a　sun！　　Alas！　　Lord　my　God。　　Alas！　　Lord　my　God；　I　am　only　a　vile　sinner；　but　my　daughter　made　me　pious。　I　was　full　of　religion　for　the　love　of　her；　and　I　beheld　you　through　her　smile　as　through　an　opening　into　heaven。　　Oh！　if　I　could　only　once；　just　once　more；　a　single　time；　put　this　shoe　on　her　pretty　little　pink　foot；　I　would　die　blessing　you；　good　Virgin。　　Ah！　fifteen　years！　she　will　be　grown　up　now！　Unhappy　child！　what！　it　is　really　true　then　I　shall　never　see　her　more；　not　even　in　heaven；　for　I　shall　not　go　there　myself。　　Oh！　what　misery　to　think　that　here　is　her　shoe；　and　that　that　is　all！〃

The　unhappy　woman　flung　herself　upon　that　shoe；　her　consolation　and　her　despair　for　so　many　years；　and　her　vitals　were　rent　with　sobs　as　on　the　first　day；　because；　for　a　mother　who　has　lost　her　child；　it　is　always　the　first　day。　　That　grief　never　grows　old。　　The　mourning　garments　may　grow　white　and　threadbare；　the　heart　remains　dark。

At　that　moment；　the　fresh　and　joyous　cries　of　children　passed　in　front　of　the　cell。　　Every　time　that　children　crossed　her　vision　or　struck　her　ear；　the　poor　mother　flung　herself　into　the　darkest　corner　of　her　sepulchre；　and　one　would　have　said；　that　she　sought　to　plunge　her　head　into　the　stone　in　order　not　to　hear　them。　　This　time；　on　the　contrary；　she　drew　herself　upright　with　a　start；　and　listened　eagerly。　　One　of　the　little　boys　had　just　said；

〃They　are　going　to　hang　a　gypsy　to…day。〃

With　the　abrupt　leap　of　that　spider　which　we　have　seen　fling　itself　upon　a　fly　at　the　trembling　of　its　web；　she　rushed　to　her　air…hole；　which　opened　as　the　reader　knows；　on　the　Place　de　Grève。　　A　ladder　had；　in　fact；　been　raised　up　against　the　permanent　gibbet；　and　the　hangman's　assistant　was　busying　himself　with　adjusting　the　chains　which　had　been　rusted　by　the　rain。　　There　were　some　people　standing　about。

The　laughing　group　of　children　was　already　far　away。　　The　sacked　nun　sought　with　her　eyes　some　passer…by　whom　she　might　question。　　All　at　once；　beside　her　cell；　she　perceived　a　priest　making　a　pretext　of　reading　the　public　breviary；　but　who　was　much　less　occupied　with　the　〃lectern　of　latticed　iron；〃　than　with　the　gallows；　toward　which　he　cast　a　fierce　and　gloomy　glance　from　time　to　time。　　She　recognized　monsieur　the　archdeacon　of　Josas；　a　holy　man。

〃Father；〃　she　inquired；　〃whom　are　they　about　to　hang　yonder？〃

The　priest　looked　at　her　and　made　no　reply；　she　repeated　her　question。　　Then　he　said；

〃I　know　not。〃

〃Some　children　said　that　it　was　a　gypsy；〃　went　on　the　recluse。

〃I　believe　so；〃　said　the　priest。

Then　Paquette　la　Chantefleurie　burst　into　hyena…like　laughter。

〃Sister；〃　said　the　archdeacon；　〃do　you　then　hate　the　gypsies　heartily？〃

〃Do　I　hate　them！〃　exclaimed　the　recluse；　〃　they　are　vampires；　stealers　of　children！　　They　devoured　my　little　daughter；　my　child；　my　only　child！　　I　have　no　longer　any　heart；　they　devoured　it！〃

She　was　frightful。　　The　priest　looked　at　her　coldly。

〃There　is　one　in　particular　whom　I　hate；　and　whom　I　have　cursed；〃　she　resumed；　〃it　is　a　young　one；　of　the　age　which

my　daughter　would　be　if　her　mother　had　not　eaten　my　daughter。　Every　time　that　that　young　viper　passes　in　front　of　my　cell；　she　sets　my　blood　in　a　ferment。〃

〃Well；　sister；　rejoice；〃　said　the　priest；　icy　as　a　sepulchral　statue；　〃that　is　the　one　whom　you　are　about　to　see　die。〃

His　head　fell　upon　his　bosom　and　he　moved　slowly　away。

The　recluse　writhed　her　arms　with　joy。

〃I　predicted　it　for　her；　that　she　would　ascend　thither！　Thanks；　priest！〃　she　cried。

And　she　began　to　pace　up　and　down　with　long　strides　before　the　grating　of　her　window；　her　hair　dishevelled；　her　eyes　flashing；　with　her　shoulder　striking　against　the　wall；　with　the　wild　air　of　a　female　wolf　in　a　cage；　who　has　long　been　famished；　and　who　feels　the　hour　for　her　repast　drawing　near。




CHAPTER　VI。

THREE　HUMAN　HEARTS　DIFFERENTLY　CONSTRUCTED。



Phoebus　was　not　dead；　however。　　Men　of　that　stamp　die　hard。　　When　Master　Philippe　Lheulier；　advocate　extraordinary　of　the　king；　had　said　to　poor　Esmeralda；　〃He　is　dying；〃　it　was　an　error　or　a　jest。　　When　the　archdeacon　had　repeated　to　the　condemned　girl；　〃He　is　dead；〃　the　fact　is　that　he　knew　nothing　about　it；　but　that　he　believed　it；　that　he　counted　on　it；　that　he　did　not　doubt　it；　that　he　devoutly　hoped　it。　　It　would　have　been　too　hard　for　him　to　give　favorable　news　of　his　rival　to　the　woman　whom　he　loved。　Any　man　would　have　done　the　same　in　his　place。

It　was　not　that　Phoebus's　wound　had　not　been　serious；　but　it　had　not　been　as　much　so　as　the　archdeacon　believed。　　The　physician；　to　whom　the　soldiers　of　the　watch　had　carried　him　at　the　first　moment；　had　feared　for　his　life　during　the　space　of　a　week；　and　had　even　told　him　so　in　Latin。　　But　youth　had　gained　the　upper　hand；　and；　as　frequently　happens；　in　spite　of　prognostications　and　diagnoses；　nature　had　amused　herself　by　saving　the　sick　man　under　the　physician's　very　nose。　　It　was　while　he　was　still　lying　on　the　leech's　pallet　that　he　had　submitted　to　the　interrogations　of　Philippe　Lheulier　and　the　official　inquisitors；　which　had　annoyed　him　greatly。　　Hence；　one　fine　morning；　feeling　himself　better；　he　had　left　his　golden　spurs　with　the　leech　as　payment；　and　had　slipped　away。　　This　had　not；　however；　interfered　with　the　progress　of　the　affair。　　Justice；　at　that　epoch；　troubled　itself　very　little　about　the　clearness　and　definiteness　of　a　criminal　suit。　　Provided　that　the　accused　was　hung；　that　was　all　that　was　necessary。　　Now　the　judge　had　plenty　of　proofs　against　la　Esmeralda。　　They　had　supposed　Phoebus　to　be　dead；　and　that　was　the　end　of　the　matter。

Phoebus；　on　his　side；　had　not　fled　far。　　He　had　simply　rejoined　his　company　in　garrison　at　Queue…en…Brie；　in　the　Isle…de…France；　a　few　stages　from　Paris。

After　all；　it　did　not　please　him　in　the　least　to　appear　in　this　suit。　　He　had　a　vague　feeling　that　be　should　play　a　ridiculous　figure　in　it。　　On　the　whole；　he　did　not　know　what　to　think　of　the　whole　affair。　　Superstitious；　and　not　given　to　devoutness；　like　every　soldier　who　is　only　a　soldier；　when　he　came　to　question　himself　about　this　adventure；　he　did　not　feel　assured　as　to　the　goat；　as　to　the　singular　fashion　in　which　he　had　met　La　Esmeralda；　as　to　the　no　less　strange　manner　in　which　she　had　allowed　him　to　divine　her　love；　as　to　her　character　as　a　gypsy；　and　lastly；　as　to　the　surly　monk。　He　perceived　in　all　these　incidents　much　more　magic　than　love；　probably　a　sorceress；　perhaps　the　devil；　a　comedy；　in　short；　or　to　speak　in　the　language　of　that　day；　a　very　disagreeable　mystery；　in　which　he　played　a　very　awkward　part；　the　role　of　blows　and　derision。　　The　captain　was　quite　put　out　of　countenance　about　it；　he　experienced　that　sort　of　shame　which　our　La　Fontaine　has　so　admirably　defined；


　　　　　　　　Ashamed　as　a　fox　who　has　been　caught　by　a　fowl。


Moreover；　he　hoped　that　the　affair　would　not　get　noised　abroad；　that　his　name　would　hardly　be　pronounced　in　it；　and　that　in　any　case　it　would　not　go　beyond　the　courts　of　th