BOOK TENTH.
CHAPTER 3. LONG LIVE MIRTH.
(continued)
"'Tis moonlight, my charmer; see yonder through the window
how the wind is tearing the clouds to tatters! Even thus
will I do to your gorget.--Wenches, wipe the children's noses
and snuff the candles.--Christ and Mahom! What am I eating
here, Jupiter? Ohé! innkeeper! the hair which is not
on the heads of your hussies one finds in your omelettes. Old
woman! I like bald omelettes. May the devil confound you!--A
fine hostelry of Beelzebub, where the hussies comb their heads
with the forks!
"Et je n'ai moi,
Par la sang-Dieu!
Ni foi, ni loi,
Ni feu, ni lieu,
Ni roi,
Ni Dieu."*
* And by the blood of God, I have neither faith nor law, nor
fire nor dwelling-place, nor king nor God.
In the meantime, Clopin Trouillefou had finished the
distribution of arms. He approached Gringoire, who appeared
to be plunged in a profound revery, with his feet on an andiron.
"Friend Pierre," said the King of Thunes, "what the devil
are you thinking about?"
Gringoire turned to him with a melancholy smile.
"I love the fire, my dear lord. Not for the trivial reason
that fire warms the feet or cooks our soup, but because it has
sparks. Sometimes I pass whole hours in watching the sparks.
I discover a thousand things in those stars which are sprinkled
over the black background of the hearth. Those stars are also
worlds."
"Thunder, if I understand you!" said the outcast. "Do you know
what o'clock it is?"
"I do not know," replied Gringoire.
Clopin approached the Duke of Egypt.
"Comrade Mathias, the time we have chosen is not a good
one. King Louis XI. is said to be in Paris."
"Another reason for snatching our sister from his claws,"
replied the old Bohemian.
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