第78章 BOOK Ⅵ(5)

A few minutes later and the sentence was drawn up.The language was brief and simple.The legal procedure of the Provostry and bailiwick of Paris had not yet been elaborated by the President，Thibaut Baillet，and Roger Barmne，King's advocate，and therefore not yet obscured by that forest of chicanery and circumlocution planted in it by these two lawyers at the beginning of the sixteenth century.All was still clear，rapid，and to the point.There was no beating about the bush，and straight before you，at the end of every path，you had a full view of the wheel，the gibbet，or the pillory.You knew，at least，exactly where you were.

The clerk presented the sentence to the Provost，who affixed his seal to it and then departed，to continue his round through the several courts of law，in a frame of mind which seemed likely，for that day，to fill every jail in Paris.Jehan Frollo and Robin Poussepain were laughing in their sleeve，while Quasimodo regarded the whole scene with an air of surprise and indifference.

Nevertheless，the clerk，while M re Florian was engaged in reading over the judgment before signing it in his turn，felt some qualms of compassion for the poor devil under sentence，and in the hope of obtaining some mitigation of his penalties，bent as near as he could to the examiner's ear，and said，pointing to Quasimodo，'The man is deaf.'

He hoped that the knowledge of a common infirmity would awaken M re Florian's interest in favour of the condemned.But in the first place，as we have already explained，M re Florian did not like to have his deafness commented upon；and secondly，that he was so hard of hearing that he did not catch one word the clerk was saying.Desiring，however，to conceal this fact，he replied：'Ah！that makes all the difference.I did not know that.In that case，one more hour of pillory for him.'And，this modification made，he signed the sentence.

'And serve him right too，'said Robin Poussepain，who still owed Quasimodo a grudge；'that'll teach him to handle folks so roughly.'

1　This comet，for deliverance from which，Pope Calixtus，uncle to Borgia，ordered public prayer，is the same which reappeared in 1835.—Author's Note.

2　A dignity to which is attached no little power in dealing with the public safety，together with many prerogatives and rights.

3　Crown accounts，1383.—Author's Note.

Chapter 2-The Rat-hole

With the reader's permission we will now return to the Place de Grève，which was quitted yesterday with Gringoire，to follow Esmeralda.

It is ten in the morning，and everywhere are the unmistakable signs of the day after a public holiday.The ground is strewn with débris of every deion，ribbons，rags，plumes，drops of wax from the torches，scraps from the public feast.A good many of the townsfolk are'loafing about'—as we would say to-day—turning over the extinguished brands of the bonfire，standing in front of the Maison aux Piliers rapturously recalling the fine hangings of the day before，and gazing now at the nails which fastened them—last taste of vanished joy—while the venders of beer and cider roll their casks among the idle groups.A few pass to and fro，intent on business；the tradespeople gossip and call to one another from their shop doors.The Festival，the Ambassadors，Coppenole，the Pope of Fools，are in every mouth，each vying with the other as to who shall make the wittiest comments and laugh the loudest；while four mounted officers of the peace，who have just posted themselves at the four corners of the pillory，have already drawn away a considerable portion of the idlers scattered about the square，who cheerfully submit to any amount of tediousness and waiting，in expectation of a little exhibition of Justice.

If now，after contemplating this stirring and clamorous scene which is being enacted at every corner of the Place，the reader will turn his attention towards the ancient building—half Gothic，half Romanesque—called the Tour-Roland，forming the western angle of the quay，he will notice，at one of its corners，a large，richly illuminated breviary for the use of the public，protected from the rain by a small pent-house and from thieves by a grating，which，however，allows of the passer-by turning over the leaves.Close beside this breviary is a narrow，pointed window looking on to the square and closed by an iron cross-bar，the only aperture by which a little air and light can penetrate to a small，doorless cell constructed on the level of the ground within the thickness of the wall of the old mansion and filled with a quiet the more profound，a silence the more oppressive，that a public square，the noisiest and most populous in Paris，is swarming and clamouring round it.