BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 6. THREE HUMAN HEARTS DIFFERENTLY CONSTRUCTED.
(continued)
An immense crowd, which overflowed into all the neighboring
streets, encumbered the Place, properly speaking. The
little wall, breast high, which surrounded the Place, would
not have sufficed to keep it free had it not been lined with
a thick hedge of sergeants and hackbuteers, culverines in
hand. Thanks to this thicket of pikes and arquebuses, the
Parvis was empty. Its entrance was guarded by a force of
halberdiers with the armorial bearings of the bishop. The
large doors of the church were closed, and formed a contrast
with the innumerable windows on the Place, which, open to their
very gables, allowed a view of thousands of heads heaped up
almost like the piles of bullets in a park of artillery.
The surface of this rabble was dingy, dirty, earthy. The
spectacle which it was expecting was evidently one of the
sort which possess the privilege of bringing out and calling
together the vilest among the populace. Nothing is so hideous
as the noise which was made by that swarm of yellow caps
and dirty heads. In that throng there were more laughs than
cries, more women than men.
From time to time, a sharp and vibrating voice pierced
the general clamor.
"Ohé! Mahiet Baliffre! Is she to be hung yonder?"
"Fool! t'is here that she is to make her apology in her
shift! the good God is going to cough Latin in her face!
That is always done here, at midday. If 'tis the gallows that
you wish, go to the Grève."
"I will go there, afterwards."
"Tell me, la Boucanbry? Is it true that she has refused
a confessor?"
"It appears so, La Bechaigne."
"You see what a pagan she is!"
"'Tis the custom, monsieur. The bailiff of the courts is
bound to deliver the malefactor ready judged for execution if
he be a layman, to the provost of Paris; if a clerk, to the
official of the bishopric."
"Thank you, sir."
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