Fiction  |  Victor Hugo  |  Notre-Dame de Paris  |  Chapter 4

Notre-Dame de Paris — Chapter 4 (Part 7 of 9)

It cannot be denied that Jehan had not been happy in the choice of names for his two friends. He felt it when it was too late.

“Besides,” continued the shrewd Claude, “what sort of swaddling-clothes are they which cost three florins— and for the infant of a Haudriette? Since when, pray, do the Haudriette widows have babes in swaddling- clothes?”

Jehan broke the ice definitely.

“Well, then, I want some money to go and see Isabeau la Thierrye this evening at the Val-d’ Amour!”

“Vile profligate!” cried the priest.

“’Anagneia,” retorted Jehan.

This quotation, selected by the boy no doubt in sheer malice from those on the wall of the cell, produced a singular effect upon the priest. He bit his lip, and his anger was lost in his confusion.

“Get you gone!” said he to Jehan; “I am expecting some one.”

The scholar made one last attempt.

“Brother Claude, give me at least one little parisis to get some food.”

“How far have you advanced in the Decretals of Gratian?” asked Dom Claude.

“I have lost my note-books.”

“Where are you in Latin classics?”

“Somebody stole my copy of Horatius.”

“And where in Aristotle?”

“Faith, brother! what Father of the Church is it who says that the errors of heretics have ever found shelter among the thickets of Aristotle’s metaphysics? A straw for Aristotle! I will never mangle my religion on his metaphysics.”

“Young man,” replied the Archdeacon, “at the last entry of the King into Paris, there was a gentleman named Philippe de Comines, who displayed embroidered on his saddle-cloth this motto— which I counsel you to ponder well: ’Qui non laborat non manducet.’ ”6

The scholar stood a moment silent, his eyes bent on the ground, his countenance chagrined. Suddenly he turned towards Claude with the quick motion of a wagtail.

“So, good brother, you refuse me even a sou to buy a crust of bread?”

Qui non laborat non manducet.”

At this inflexible answer Jehan buried his face in his hands, like a woman sobbing, and cried in a voice of despair:

“Otototototoi!”

“What do you mean by this, sir?” demanded Claude, taken aback at this freak.