“Bellevigne de l‘Etoile,” said the King of Tunis to a huge vagrant who started from the ranks, “climb upon the crossbeam.”
Bellevigne de l‘Etoile nimbly climbed the crossbeam, and in an instant Gringoire, raising his eyes, with terror beheld him squatting upon it, above his head.
“Now,” continued Clopin Trouillefou, “when I clap my hands, do you, Andry le Rouge, knock away the footstool from under him; you, Fran?oise Chante-Prune, hang on to the knave’s feet; and you, Bellevigne, jump down upon his shoulders; and all three at once, do you hear?”
Gringoire shuddered.
“Are you ready?” said Clopin Trouillefou to the three Canters prepared to fall upon Gringoire. The poor sufferer endured a moment of horrible suspense, while Clopin calmly pushed into the fire with his foot a few vine-branches which the flame had not yet kindled. “Are you ready?” he repeated; and he opened his hands to clap. A second more, and all would have been over.
But he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought.
“One moment,” said he; “I forgot! It is our custom never to hang a man without asking if there be any woman who’ll have him. Comrade, it’s your last chance. You must marry a tramp or the rope.”
This gipsy law, strange as it may seem to the reader, is still written out in full in the ancient English codes. （See “Burington’s Observations.”） Gringoire breathed again. This was the second time that he had been restored to life within the half-hour; so he dared not feel too confident.
“Holà!” cried Clopin, remounting his cask; “holà there, women, females! is there among you, from the old witch to her cat, a wench who’ll take this scurvy knave? Holà, Colette la Charonne! Elisa beth Trouvain! Simone Jodouyne! Marie Piedcbou! Thonne la Longue! Bérarde Fanouel! Michelle Genaille! Claude Ronge-Oreille! Mathurine Girorou! Holà! Isabeau la Thierrye! Come and look! a man for nothing! who’ll take him?”
Gringoire, in his wretched plight, was doubtless far from tempting. The vagabond women seemed but little moved by the offer. The luckless fellow heard them answer: “No! no! hang him; that will make sport for us all.”
Three, however, stepped from the crowd to look him over. The first was a stout, square-faced girl. She examined the philosopher’s pitiable doublet most attentively. The stuff was worn, and more full of holes than a furnace for roasting chestnuts. The girl made a wry face. “An old clout!” she grumbled, and, addressing Gringoire, “Let’s look at your cloak?”
“I have lost it,” said Gringoire.
“Your hat?”
“Some one took it from me.”
“Your shoes?”
“The soles are almost worn through.”
“Your purse?”
“Alas!” faltered Gringoire, “I have not a penny.”
“Be hanged to you then, and be thankful!” replied the tramp, turning her back on him.
The second, old, weather-beaten, wrinkled, and ugly, hideous enough to be conspicuous even in the Court of Miracles, walked round and round Gringoire. He almost trembled lest she should accept him. But she muttered, “He’s too thin,” and took her leave.
The third was a young girl, quite rosy and not very ugly. “Save me!” whispered the poor devil.
She looked at him a moment with a compassionate air, then looked down, began to plait up her skirt, and seemed uncertain. He watched her every motion; this was his last ray of hope. “No,” said the young woman at last; “no! Guillaume Longuejoue would beat me,” and she went back to the crowd.
“Comrade,” said Clopin Trouillefou, “you’re down on your luck.”
Then, standing erect upon his cask, he cried, “Will no one take this lot?” mimicking the tone of an auctioneer, to the great entertainment of all; “will no one take it? Going, going, going!” and turning to the gallows with a nod, “Gone!”
Bellevigne de l‘Etoile, Andry le Rouge, and Fran?ois Chant-Prune approached Gringoire.
At this instant a shout rose from the thieves: “Esmeralda! Esmeralda!”
Gringoire trembled, and turned in the direction of the cry. The crowd opened and made way for a pure and radiant figure.
It was the gipsy girl.
“Esmeralda!” said Gringoire, astounded, amidst his contending emotions, at the suddenness with which that magic word connected all the various recollections of his day.
This rare creature seemed to exercise sovereign sway through her beauty and her charm even in the Court of Miracles. Thieves, beggars, and harlots stood meekly aside to let her pass, and their brutal faces brightened at her glance.