Chapter 14 Notre Dame de Paris (1) Vol. 2 Dangerous and Dangerous (6)

Gringoire did not dare to show his breath, nor did he dare to raise his head. "Guys, take off your hat! ① said one of the three who seized him. Before Gringoire could understand what he was saying, the man took off the hat on Gringoire's head. It's true, but it's good enough to keep out the sun and the wind and rain." Gringoire sighed. At this time, the king condescendingly spoke to him from the throne: "What is this villain?" Gringoire shuddered.The voice, though accentuated with menace, reminded him of the other voice that had been the first to destroy his shrine this morning in the middle of the show by shouting "Come on!" The voice of the play.He looked up, and sure enough it was Clopin Trouyff.

Clopin Trouyff wore the coat of arms of the Majesty, and his rags remained the same, neither more nor less.The sores on his arms were gone.He carried in his hand a whip twisted from strips of white leather, the Breuil whip, which is used by head-catchers to harass the masses.On his head he wore a kind of hat that hooped and gathered at the top, but it was hard to tell whether it was a padded childproof cap or a crown, since the two were so similar. However, after Gringoire recognized that the king of the Miracle Palace was the beggar in the performance hall in the morning, for some reason, he regained a glimmer of hope in his heart.

"Your Excellency... Your Excellency... Your Majesty..." Gringoire stammered, his voice became higher and higher, reaching the peak, and he no longer knew how to go up or how to go down, and finally asked: "I What should I call you?" ① The original text is in Spanish. "My lord, your majesty, or fellow, you may call me what you like. Hurry up, though! Have you anything to say in your defense?" "Defend yourself!" Gringoire pondered. "I don't like that statement." He stammered and continued: "I'm the one this morning..."

"Devil's nails!" Clopin interrupted, "give me your name, scoundrel, and don't be wordy about anything else! Listen! There are three mighty gentlemen sitting before you: I, Cropin Ropin Truyph, lord of Dina, heir to the master of the beggars, supreme prince of the kingdom of slang; you see that yellow-faced old man over there with a rag wrapped around his head, whose name is Marcia En Gadi Spicali, Grand Duke of Egypt and Bohemia; and the fat man, who didn't listen to us, who was stroking a slut, is Guillaume Rousseau, Emperor of Galilee. The three of us are yours Inquisitor. You are not a man of slang and have infiltrated the kingdom of slang, violating the privileges of our city-state. You should be punished, unless you are 'Capon', 'Fran-Mitu' or 'Rifford', with the honor of a gentleman In slang, a thief, a beggar, or a tramp. Aren’t you a bit like that? Make your case! Say who you are.”

"Alas!" said Gringoire. "I don't have the honor. I'm the author..." "That's enough!" Truyff interrupted before letting him finish. "You're going to be hanged! It's so simple, gentlemen of the town. What you do to us there, we do to you here. Your laws against vagabonds, we do to you. If This law is so vile, you have to blame it on your own. You ought to see a decent gentleman struggling in a hemp collar from time to time and make a grimace. That's justified. Come on, good man, be happy to put your Divide the rags among these ladies. I'll hang you to make the bums happy; give them your money, and let them drink. If you have anything else to do, Over there in the mortar there's a very fine stone God I stole from St. Peter's Bull, and you've got four minutes to curry favor with that old man with your soul."

This speech is really creepy. "Damn it, I'll bet! Clopin Truyph preaches like that holy old man the Pope," cried the Emperor of Galilee, knocking down the wine jar to cover the table. "Your Majesty and Your Majesty," said Gringoire calmly (for somehow he had reasserted himself, and his tone was decisive). "It would not occur to you that my name is Pierre Gringoire, poet, and that I wrote the miracle play that was performed this morning in the great hall of the Palais de Justice." "Ah! it is you, my lord!" said Clopin. "I was there, too, and I'll swear on my god's head! Well, man, you say just because you've bored us this morning is why you're not hanged tonight?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to get away," thought Gringoire, but making another effort, he said: "I don't understand why poets can't be considered vagabonds! If there is a vagabond, Aesop is one; beggar, Holland." The horse is one; the thief, Mercury is one..." Clopin interrupted him, saying: "I think you are trying to fool us with magic words. Damn it! Just hang you, don't pretend like that!" ①The stone mortar is actually a stone shrine, which is a sign of contempt. ② Mercury: The messenger of the gods in ancient Roman mythology, in charge of commerce and sheltering tourists.He is not a "thief".

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty King Dinard," retorted Gringoire, who was fighting for every inch of land. "It's worth it... Please wait a moment!... Listen to me... You will not sentence me to death without listening to my pleading..." In fact, his poor voice was drowned out by the noise around him.The little boy also scraped the cauldron more vigorously.Not only that, but the most terrible thing is that an old woman just put a frying pan full of fat on the flaming tripod, and when it was burned by the fire, it crackled, like a group of children arguing behind a mask Yelling.

At this moment, Clopin Truyph looked as if he was conferring with the Grand Duke of Egypt and the Emperor of Galilee - he was completely drunk - about something.Then, he sternly shouted: "Be quiet!" However, the cauldron and frying pan did not buy him, and continued their duet. The pot and the child rolled ten steps away, and kicked the frying pan over again, pouring all the oil on the fire.Then, solemnly, he ascended the throne, ignoring the child's sobbing and crying, and the old woman's murmuring that her supper had turned into beautiful white smoke. Trouyff made a sign, and the Grand Duke, the Emperor, and his diabolical accomplices, as well as those hypocrites, came forward and formed a half-circle around him, while Gringoire was kept in a rough prison. Twist and become the center of the horseshoe.It was half a circle of rags, half a circle of fake gold and silver jewellery, half a circle of forks and axes, half a circle of thighs reeking of wine, half a circle of fat barebacks, half a circle of dirty, haggard, and stupid faces.In the middle of this beggars' round table, Clopin Truyff, like the speaker of the senate, the monarch of the noble house, and the pope elected by the council of cardinals, sat on the tall wine barrel, condescending, giving orders, The look was indescribable, arrogant, irritable, ferocious, the eyes rolled straight, and the face of the savage made up for the pig and dog-like characteristics of the rogue race.

"Listen to me," he said to Gringoire, stroking his deformed chin with his callused hand. "I see no reason why you should not be hanged. It's true, it looks like you hate it, it's simple, you townspeople are not used to hanging, and you always think it's too mysterious.Actually, we don't hate you.There is a way you can get away temporarily.Would you like to be one of us? " Gringoire, seeing that his life was in danger, had begun to give up his efforts, but now he suddenly heard this suggestion, and its effect can be imagined.He desperately grabbed hold of it, and replied:

"Of course, if you want!" "You agree to join this gang of heroes who fight openly?" Clopin asked again. "It's true, join the Gang of Heroes." Gringoire replied. "You recognize yourself as a member of the free burghers?" King Dina asked again. "A member of the free burghers." "The common people of the Kingdom of Black Talk?" "The commoners of the Kingdom of Black Talk." "tramp?" "tramp." "With all your heart?" "With all my heart." "I have to tell you, that's it, you have to be hanged." The king continued. "Damn it!" said the poet. "Nevertheless," went on the resolute Clopin. "It will be a consolation to hang you at a later date, with more grandeur, on a beautiful stone gallows at the expense of the good city of Paris, and by decent men. , can die in peace.” "I hope it is as you say," replied Gringoire. "There are other advantages too. As a free citizen, you don't have to pay the exorbitant miscellaneous taxes, such as the sludge removal tax, the poverty relief tax, and the lantern tax, which ordinary citizens of Paris must pay." "I hope so," said the poet. "I agree. I'll be a vagabond, a slanger, a free burgher, a hero of the gang, whatever you say. I've been, Mr. King Dina, because I'm a philosopher; philosophy contains everything, All men are included in philosophy, as you know." King Dina frowned. "My friend, who do you take me for? Are you playing the harp and talking about some Hungarian-Jewish slang? I'm not a Hebrew. You don't have to be a Jew to be a robber. I don't even steal anymore, that sort of thing." Yier is not addicted anymore, now I kill people. Cut the throat, do it; cut the money bag, don’t do it.” The more he spoke, the angrier he became, the more staccato the brief speech became, until Gringoire finally broke in to express his apology: "Forgive me, Your Majesty. It is not Hebrew, but Latin." ① The original text is Latin. "Listen to me," said Clopin, furious. "I'm not a Jew, and I'm going to have you hanged, Jew belly! And that Judas standing next to you, that little dwarf who sells counterfeit goods, I'd love to see him hanged like a counterfeit coin one day." Nailed on the counter, he is a fake coin!" As he spoke, he pointed to the little bearded Hungarian Jew who had said to Gringoire, who knew no other language, and could only watch in horror as King Dinar put his stomach full. All the anger was poured on him. At last, His Majesty Clopin calmed down, and said to our poet: "Bad man! Do you want to be a tramp?" "Of course I would," replied the poet. "It's not enough to want to," continued the surly Clopin. "A good wish does not add an onion to the soup. It is only good to go to heaven; however, heaven and black talk gang are two different things. To be accepted into black talk gang, you have to prove that you have something to do, so you have to Go get the Sims' purse." "I can pay you anything you want," said Gringoire. With a wave of Clopin's hand, the slangers left the circle, and came back after a while, carrying two wooden stakes with two scrapers in the shape of roof trusses at the bottom, which can easily make the wooden stakes stand on the ground.At the top of the two wooden stakes, a beam is supported, and in this way, a movable, beautiful and extraordinary gallows is made.Gringoire could not help feeling a sense of satisfaction in seeing a gallows erected before him in an instant.Everything is ready, even the noose is missing, and it is dangling gracefully under the beam. "What are they going to do?" Gringoire asked himself a little puzzled.Just at this moment, he heard a bell ringing, and he was not in a hurry.It turned out that the rascals brought a dummy, put a rope around the dummy's neck, and hung it up.The dummy was like a scarecrow to frighten birds, dressed in red and covered with bells and bells, enough for thirty Castilian mules.The thousands of bells rang softly for a while as the rope swayed, then gradually lowered, and finally fell silent.At the same time, with the law of motion of the pendulum which replaced the hourglass and sandtimer, the dummy also stood still. At this moment, Clopin pointed to an old rickety stool under the false foot, and said to Gringoire: "Stand up!" "Damn it!" Gringoire protested. "I'd break my neck. That bench of yours is as lame as Marcia's six-eight lines, one line in hexameters and the other in octaves." "Come up!" said Clopin again. Gringoire threw himself on the bench, staggering his head and arms, and with difficulty regained his balance. "Now, hook your right foot around your left leg, stand on tiptoe with your left foot!" King Dina continued. "Your Majesty, don't you mean to break my arms and legs?" cried Gringoire. Clopin shook his head and said: "Listen, friend, you talk too much. A few words will tell you. Stand up on your tiptoes, and do as I tell you; so you can reach the dummy's pockets; you will Reach for it, and try to get a purse out of his pocket. You've done all this without hearing the bell, and that's all right, you're a bum. We'll just beat you for eight days from now on." ①Castile is the name of a region in central Spain.The Spaniards like to drive mules, and there are many bells hanging on the mules. ② Marcia (43-104), a Latin poet.The six or eight poems are "lame rhyme" with long and short sentences alternated. "God's belly! What if I accidentally strike the bell?" asked Gringoire. "Then you shall be hanged. Do you understand?" "Not at all," replied Gringoire. "I'll tell you again. You'll take out the dummy's pocket and take out his purse; and if you do that, one bell will ring and you'll be hanged. Do you understand now?" "Understood. Then?" Gringoire replied. "If you're smart enough to take your purse away and no one hears the bell, you're a bum, but you're going to be beaten for eight days straight. Now, do you understand?" "No, Your Majesty, I'm confused again. What do I gain by doing this? In one case I'll be hanged, in the other I'll be beaten..." "And being a bum?!" Clopin went on. "Isn't it nothing to be a tramp? We're going to beat you up for your own good, so you can stand it." "Thank you very much," replied the poet. "Okay, hurry up." The king said as he stepped on the wine barrel with his feet, making a sound like a big drum. "Dig it out, and it's over. I warn you for the last time: if I hear a bell, it's your turn to take the Dummy's place." Hearing these words of Clopin, all the black talkers applauded, went to stand in a circle around the gallows, and let out a cruel and murderous laugh, Gringoire suddenly realized: he made them so happy, This can't help but scare everything about them.There was therefore no longer any hope for him but the hope of immediate success in being compelled to perform such a dreadful deed. He made up his mind and decided to risk his life, and of course he must first pray fervently to the dummy he was going to steal, which might be more sensitive than these rascals.Those countless bells, with their little copper tongues, looked to him like the open mouths of countless adders, ready to bite and hiss at any moment. "Oh!" he whispered. "Does my life really depend on the slight tremor of any one of these bells!" He folded his palms and prayed silently: "Oh! Little bell, little bell, don't ring; little bell, little bell, don't ring!" Don't shake; little bell, little bell, don't shake!" He didn't want to wait for death, and tried to make another effort to influence Truyph, and then said: "What if there is a sudden gust of wind?" "I'll still hang you," Clopin replied without hesitation. Seeing that there was no way out, and there was no reprieve, and he could not be prevaricated, he resolutely broke his heart, raised his right foot to hook his left foot, tiptoed his left foot, straightened his body, and stretched out one arm; When his hand touched the dummy, his body, supported by only one foot, swayed on the small stool with only three legs; he couldn't help but want to grab the dummy, and suddenly lost his balance, and ended up falling heavily. At the same time, unable to withstand the push of his hand, the dummy first spun around, and then dangled majestically between the hanging posts on both sides, and the thousands of bells on its body seemed to be urging the soul to die. The earth rang, and Gringoire was completely stunned. "Unlucky!" He yelled and fell down, lying on the ground as if dead. However, he heard the terrible chorus of bells above his head, heard the devilish laughter of the tramps, and heard Truyph's voice: "Pull this bastard up for me, and hang him up hard!" Gringoire got up.They had already undocked the dummy to make room for him. The black talk gang forced him to stand on a small stool.Clopin came up, put the noose around his neck, patted him on the shoulder, and said: "Farewell, my friend! Even if you have as many ideas in your belly as the Pope, you will never slip away now." Gringoire wanted to cry for mercy, but the words stuck on his lips.He looked around, without hope: everyone was laughing. "Star Belvini!" King Dina called to a large bum, who answered the call. "You climb up the beam." Belvini was agile and climbed up immediately.After a while, Gringoire looked up, and saw him squatting on the beam above his head, which frightened him out of his wits. "Now," continued Clopin Trouyff. "As soon as I clap my hands, Andre the Red, you kneel down the little stool; François Chant-Prune, you grab the scoundrel's foot and squeeze it down; and you, Belvini, You just jump on his shoulder; you three are going to move at the same time, do you understand?" Gringoire shuddered. "Are you ready?" asked Clopin Trouillef to the three black-talkers, who were about to rush at Gringoire like three spiders at a fly in a web.The poor victim had to wait a terrible time while Clopin was unhurriedly kicking the unburned twigs of the fire with his toe. "Are you ready?" he asked again, and opened his hands for a high-five.In another second, it will be over. But Clopin stopped, as if suddenly remembering something, and said: "Wait a minute! I forgot! . . . It's the custom.—My man, this is your last chance. Either you marry a beggar woman or a noose." The law of the Gypsies may seem strange to the judges, but in fact, it is still recorded in the ancient British religious codes today.You can refer to the book "Burlington's Commentary". Gringoire breathed a sigh of relief.It was the second narrow escape in half an hour.Therefore, he did not dare to believe too much. "Oh, hello!" cried Clopin, remounting his throne. "Hey! Women, women, which of you whores, witches or witches' cats, want this whore? Colette Charona! Elizabeth Trowan! Simone Joduina! Marie Piedbou! Tona Long! Berard Fanuel! Michelle Genay! Claude Longe-Aurée! Maduren Girorou! Hello! ! Isabeau Thierry! ①Come and see! You have a fellow for nothing! Who wants it?" Gringoire was in a state of despair, which probably would not have been appetizing.The beggars seemed indifferent to the proposal, and the unfortunate man only heard them reply: "No! No! Hang him! We can all have fun!" However, three came from the crowd to sniff him.The first, a fat, square-faced girl, examined the poor coat of the philosopher.The coat was riddled with holes, more holes than a spoonful of fried chestnuts.The girl made a grimace, muttered: "Ragged cloth!" and said to Gringoire: "Look at your cloak, will you?" ① The names of these women are made up of homonyms or double words, and contain vulgar and obscene meanings.Such as "Three Hands" Colette, "Empty Hole" Elizabeth, "Standing Feet" Mary, "Long Legs" Tona, "Ear Cracking" Claude and so on. "Lost it," replied Gringoire. "Where's your hat?" "They took it away." "Where are your shoes?" "I'm almost out of soles." "Where's your wallet?" "Oh!" Gringoire grumbled. "I'm broke." "Then let you hang yourself, thank you!" the beggar Huazi retorted, turned around and left. The second was old and dark and wrinkled and ugly, ugly even in this court of wonders.She walked around Gringoire, frightened him like chaff, lest she want him.However, she whispered, "He's too thin," and walked away. The third is a young girl, rather coquettish, not too ugly."Help me," the poor wretch begged her in a low voice. She looked at him for a moment with pity, then lowered her eyes, rubbed her skirt, and hesitated.He watched her every movement; it was the last hope.At last the girl said, "No, no! Guillaume the Long Cheek will beat me." And then she went back into the crowd. "Damn you, man!" said Clopin. As soon as the voice fell, he stood up on the vat and shouted: "Is there no one who wants it?" He imitated the tone of the auction appraiser, which made everyone laugh. "No one wants it? One—two—three!" So he turned to the gallows and nodded: "It's auctioned!" The star Belvini, the red-faced Andry, and the alcoholic Francois all approached Gringoire. Just at that moment, a cry came from the Black Talkers: "Esmeralda! Esmeralda!" Gringoire shuddered involuntarily, turned his head and looked towards the side from which the uproar came, and saw the crowd move aside to make way for a pure and radiant beauty. This is the gypsy girl. "Esmeralda!" Gringoire said to himself, stunned and excited, this spell-like name suddenly brought back all kinds of memories of his day. This rare stunner in the world seems to have enchanted even the Miracle Palace by its beauty and charm.All the way she passed, male and female clerks of black-talk gangs lined up obediently in two rows; as far as she could see, rough faces were blooming like flowers, and their faces were radiant. She walked lightly and walked up to the victim.She was followed by beautiful beauties. Gringoire was half dead with fright, and she looked at him for a moment in silence. "Are you going to hang this man?" she asked Clopin gravely. "Yes, sister." King Dina replied. "Unless you want him to be your husband." She pursed her lower lip in a slightly coquettish manner. "I want it," she said. Gringoire is now firmly convinced that he has only had a dream since the morning, and the present event is the continuation of the dream. In fact, the climax of this dream is amazing, but it is too much. The slipknot was undone, and the poet was lifted from the little stool.He was so excited that he had to sit down. The Grand Duke of Egypt brought an earthen jar without saying a word.The gypsy girl handed the crock to Gringoire and said to him: "Throw it on the ground!" The crock broke into four pieces. "Brother," said the Grand Duke of Egypt, putting both hands on their foreheads. "Brother, she is your wife; sister, he is your husband. Four years of marriage. That's it!"