BOOK TENTH.
CHAPTER 4. AN AWKWARD FRIEND.
(continued)
Their innumerable sculptures of demons and dragons assumed
a lugubrious aspect. The restless light of the flame
made them move to the eye. There were griffins which had
the air of laughing, gargoyles which one fancied one heard
yelping, salamanders which puffed at the fire, tarasques*
which sneezed in the smoke. And among the monsters thus
roused from their sleep of stone by this flame, by this
noise, there was one who walked about, and who was seen,
from time to time, to pass across the glowing face of the
pile, like a bat in front of a candle.
* The representation of a monstrous animal solemnly drawn about
in Tarascon and other French towns.
Without doubt, this strange beacon light would awaken far
away, the woodcutter of the hills of Bicêtre, terrified to
behold the gigantic shadow of the towers of Notre-Dame
quivering over his heaths.
A terrified silence ensued among the outcasts, during which
nothing was heard, but the cries of alarm of the canons shut
up in their cloister, and more uneasy than horses in a burning
stable, the furtive sound of windows hastily opened and still
more hastily closed, the internal hurly-burly of the houses and
of the Hôtel-Dieu, the wind in the flame, the last death-rattle
of the dying, and the continued crackling of the rain of lead
upon the pavement.
In the meanwhile, the principal vagabonds had retired beneath
the porch of the Gondelaurier mansion, and were holding
a council of war.
The Duke of Egypt, seated on a stone post, contemplated
the phantasmagorical bonfire, glowing at a height of two
hundred feet in the air, with religious terror. Clopin
Trouillefou bit his huge fists with rage.
"Impossible to get in!" he muttered between his teeth.
"An old, enchanted church!" grumbled the aged Bohemian,
Mathias Hungadi Spicali.
"By the Pope's whiskers!" went on a sham soldier, who had
once been in service, "here are church gutters spitting melted
lead at you better than the machicolations of Lectoure."
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