BOOK TENTH.
CHAPTER 4. AN AWKWARD FRIEND.
(continued)
"Yes," said Clopin, "but what are you going to do with
that ladder?"
Jehan gazed at him with a malicious, knowing look, and
cracked his fingers like castanets. At that moment he
was sublime. On his head he wore one of those overloaded
helmets of the fifteenth century, which frightened the enemy
with their fanciful crests. His bristled with ten iron beaks,
so that Jehan could have disputed with Nestor's Homeric
vessel the redoubtable title of dexeubolos.
"What do I mean to do with it, august king of Thunes?
Do you see that row of statues which have such idiotic
expressions, yonder, above the three portals?"
"Yes. Well?"
"'Tis the gallery of the kings of France."
"What is that to me?" said Clopin.
"Wait! At the end of that gallery there is a door which is
never fastened otherwise than with a latch, and with this
ladder I ascend, and I am in the church."
"Child let me be the first to ascend."
"No, comrade, the ladder is mine. Come, you shall be the
second."
"May Beelzebub strangle you!" said surly Clopin, "I won't be
second to anybody."
"Then find a ladder, Clopin!"
Jehan set out on a run across the Place, dragging his ladder
and shouting: "Follow me, lads!"
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