re? A hundred livres parisian, fine to the
king! That Barbedienne strikes like a deaf man,--as he is! I'll be my
brother the archdeacon, if that keeps me from gaming; gaming by day,
gaming by night, living at play, dying at play, and gaming away my soul
after my shirt. Holy Virgin, what damsels! One after the other my lambs.
Ambroise Lecuyere, Isabeau la Paynette, Berarde Gironin! I know them
all, by Heavens! A fine! a fine! That's what will teach you to wear
gilded girdles! ten sous parisis! you coquettes! Oh! the old snout of
a judge! deaf and imbecile! Oh! Florian the dolt! Oh! Barbedienne the
blockhead! There he is at the table! He's eating the plaintiff, he's
eating the suits, he eats, he chews, he crams, he fills himself. Fines,
lost goods, taxes, expenses, loyal charges, salaries, damages, and
interests, gehenna, prison, and jail, and fetters with expenses are
Christmas spice cake and marchpanes of Saint-John to him! Look at
him, the pig!--Come! Good! Another amorous woman! Thibaud-la-Thibaude,
neither more nor less! For having come from the Rue Glatigny! What
fellow is this? Gieffroy Mabonne, gendarme bearing the crossbow. He
has cursed the name of the Father. A fine for la Thibaude! A fine for
Gieffroy! A fine for them both! The deaf old fool! he must have mixed up
the two cases! Ten to one that he makes the wench pay for the oath and
the gendarme for the amour! Attention, Robin Poussepain! What are
they going to bring in? Here are many sergeants! By Jupiter! all the
bloodhounds of the pack are there. It must be the great beast of the
hunt--a wild boar. And 'tis one, Robin, 'tis one. And a fine one too!
_Hercle_! 'tis our prince of yesterday, our Pope of the Fools,
our bellringer, our one-eyed man, our hunchback, our grimace! 'Tis
Quasimodo!"

It was he indeed.

It was Quasimodo, bound, encircled, roped, pinioned, and under good
guard. The squad of policemen who surrounded him was assisted by the
chevalier of the watch in person, wearing the arms of France embroidered
on his breast, and the arms of the city on his back. There was nothing,
however, about Quasimodo, except his deformity, which could justify the
display of halberds and arquebuses; he was gloomy, silent, and tranquil.
Only now and then did his single eye cast a sly and wrathful glance upon
the bonds with which he was loaded.

He cast the same glance about him, but it was so dull and sleepy that
the women only pointed him out to each other in der