|
||||||||
You consent, resumed Clopin, to enrol yourself among the members of the petite flambe (the little dagger)? Of the Little Daggercertainly, answered Gringoire. You acknowledge yourself a member of the Free Company? went on the King of Tunis. Of the Free Company. A subject of the Kingdom of Argot? Of the Kingdom of Argot. A Vagabond? A Vagabond. With heart and soul? Heart and soul. I would have you observe, added the King, that you will be none the less hanged for all that. Diable! exclaimed the poet. Only, continued Clopin imperturbably, it will take place somewhat later, with more ceremony, and at the expense of the city of Paris, on a fine stone gibbet, and by honest men. Thats some consolation. I am glad you think so, responded Gringoire. Then, there are other advantages. As a member of the Free Company you will have to contribute neither towards the paving, the lighting, nor the poortaxes to which the burghers of Paris are subject. So be it, said the poet. I agree. I am a Vagabond, an Argotier, a Little Daggerwhatever you please. And, indeed, I was all that already, Monsieur the King of Tunis, for I am a philosopher and Omnia in philosophia, omnes in philosopho continenturas you are aware. The King of Tunis knit his brows. What do you take me for, my friend? What Jew of Hungarys patter are you treating us to now? I know no Hebrew. Its not to say that because a mans a robber he must be a Jew. Nay, indeed, I do not even thieve nowI am above thatI kill. Cutthroat, yes; cutpurse, no! Gringoire endeavoured to squeeze some extenuating plea between these brief ejaculations jerked at him by the offended monarch. I ask your pardon, monsieur, but it is not Hebrew; it is Latin. I tell thee, retorted the enraged Clopin, that Im not a Jew, and Ill have thee hanged, ventre de synagogue! as well as that little usurer of Judea standing beside thee, and whom I hope to see some day nailed to a counter, like the bad penny that he is. As he spoke, he pointed to the little bearded Hungarian Jew who had accosted Gringoire with Facitote caritatem, and who, understanding no other language, was much astonished that the King of Tunis should thus vent his wrath on him. At length Monseigneur Clopins wrath abated. So, rascal, said he to our poet, you are willing to become a Vagabond? Willingly, replied the poet. |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details. | ||||||||