Собор Парижской богоматери / Notre-Dame de Paris - стр. 2
Jupiter breathed once more.
“Messeigneurs the bourgeois,” he cried, at the top of his lungs, “we are going to begin at once.”
“Good, good,” shouted the people.
The hand clapping was deafening, and Jupiter had withdrawn.
In the meanwhile, the person who had so magically turned the tempest into calm, had retreated into the crowd. His name was Pierre Gringoire, and he was the author of the mystery that was about to take place.
Suddenly, the music of high and low instruments became audible from the interior of the stage and the tapestry was raised. Four personages emerged from it and climbed upon the upper platform. The symphony ceased.
The mystery was about to begin.
The four personages began. All four were dressed in robes of yellow and white. The first was of gold and silver brocade; the second, of silk; the third, of wool; the fourth, of linen. The first of these personages carried a sword in his right hand; the second, two golden keys; the third, a pair of scales; the fourth, a spade. They were Nobility, Clergy, Merchandise and Labor. Labor was wedded to Merchandise, and Clergy to Nobility, and the two happy couples possessed in common a magnificent golden dolphin, which they desired to adjudge to the fairest only. So they were roaming about the world seeking and searching for this beauty.
There was no ear more attentive, no heart that palpitated more, no neck more outstretched, than the ear, the neck, and the heart of the author, that brave Pierre Gringoire. He listened, looked, enjoyed. The amiable applause which had greeted the beginning of his prologue was still echoing in his chest.
Sadly, this first ecstasy was speedily disturbed.
A tattered mendicant, who could not collect any coins, decided to perch himself higher up, in order to attract looks and alms. He had hoisted himself to the cornice which ran round the balustrade at its lower edge; and there he had seated himself, soliciting the attention and the pity of the multitude.
Eventually, that caught the attention of the scholar Joanne, who started laughing and, without caring that he was interrupting the spectacle, shouted—
“Look! He’s asking alms[1]!”
Any one who has thrown a stone into a frog pond can form an idea of the effect produced by these words. The prologue stopped short, and all heads turned tumultuously towards the beggar, who saw this a good opportunity and began to whine—“Charity, please!”
Gringoire was highly displeased. He shouted to the four personages on the stage, “Go on! What the devil!—go on!”