BOOK FIRST.
CHAPTER 1. THE GRAND HALL.
(continued)
"And the beadles' wands!"
"And the spittoons of the deans!"
"And the cupboards of the procurators!"
"And the hutches of the electors!"
"And the stools of the rector!"
"Down with them!" put in little Jehan, as counterpoint;
"down with Master Andry, the beadles and the scribes; the
theologians, the doctors and the decretists; the procurators,
the electors and the rector!"
"The end of the world has come!,' muttered Master Andry,
stopping up his ears.
"By the way, there's the rector! see, he is passing through
the Place," cried one of those in the window.
Each rivalled his neighbor in his haste to turn towards the
Place.
"Is it really our venerable rector, Master Thibaut?" demanded
Jehan Frollo du Moulin, who, as he was clinging to
one of the inner pillars, could not see what was going on outside.
"Yes, yes," replied all the others, "it is really he, Master
Thibaut, the rector."
It was, in fact, the rector and all the dignitaries of the
university, who were marching in procession in front of the
embassy, and at that moment traversing the Place. The students
crowded into the window, saluted them as they passed
with sarcasms and ironical applause. The rector, who was
walking at the head of his company, had to support the first
broadside; it was severe.
"Good day, monsieur le recteur! Holà hé! good day there!"
"How does he manage to be here, the old gambler? Has
he abandoned his dice?"
"How he trots along on his mule! her ears are not so long
as his!"
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