BOOK TENTH.
CHAPTER 1. GRINGOIRE HAS MANY GOOD IDEAS IN SUCCESSION.--RUE DES BERNARDINS.
(continued)
"Do you not think that the dress of those cavaliers whom
we have just seen is far handsomer than yours and mine?"
Gringoire tossed his head.
"I' faith! I love better my red and yellow jerkin, than
those scales of iron and steel. A fine pleasure to produce,
when you walk, the same noise as the Quay of Old Iron, in an
earthquake!"
"So, Gringoire, you have never cherished envy for those
handsome fellows in their military doublets?"
"Envy for what, monsieur the archdeacon? their strength,
their armor, their discipline? Better philosophy and
independence in rags. I prefer to be the head of a fly
rather than the tail of a lion."
"That is singular," said the priest dreamily. "Yet a handsome
uniform is a beautiful thing."
Gringoire, perceiving that he was in a pensive mood, quitted
him to go and admire the porch of a neighboring house. He
came back clapping his hands.
"If you were less engrossed with the fine clothes of men of
war, monsieur the archdeacon, I would entreat you to come
and see this door. I have always said that the house of the
Sieur Aubry had the most superb entrance in the world."
"Pierre Gringoire," said the archdeacon, "What have you
done with that little gypsy dancer?"
"La Esmeralda? You change the conversation very abruptly."
"Was she not your wife?"
"Yes, by virtue of a broken crock. We were to have four
years of it. By the way," added Gringoire, looking at the
archdeacon in a half bantering way, "are you still thinking
of her?"
"And you think of her no longer?"
"Very little. I have so many things. Good heavens, how
pretty that little goat was!"
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