rande et le(e
Sera a la Saint-Jean gele(e,
On verra, par-dessus la glace,
Sortir ceux d'Arras de leur place_*."

* When the rats eat the cats, the king will be lord of Arras;
when the sea which is great and wide, is frozen over at St. John's tide,
men will see across the ice, those who dwell in Arras quit their place.

"Well, scholar of Antichrist, may you be strangled with the entrails of
your mother!" exclaimed Phoebus, and he gave the drunken scholar a rough
push; the latter slipped against the wall, and slid flabbily to the
pavement of Philip Augustus. A remnant of fraternal pity, which never
abandons the heart of a drinker, prompted Phoebus to roll Jehan with his
foot upon one of those pillows of the poor, which Providence keeps in
readiness at the corner of all the street posts of Paris, and which
the rich blight with the name of "a rubbish-heap." The captain adjusted
Jehan's head upon an inclined plane of cabbage-stumps, and on the very
instant, the scholar fell to snoring in a magnificent bass. Meanwhile,
all malice was not extinguished in the captain's heart. "So much the
worse if the devil's cart picks you up on its passage!" he said to the
poor, sleeping clerk; and he strode off.

The man in the mantle, who had not ceased to follow him, halted for a
moment before the prostrate scholar, as though agitated by indecision;
then, uttering a profound sigh, he also strode off in pursuit of the
captain.

We, like them, will leave Jehan to slumber beneath the open sky, and
will follow them also, if it pleases the reader.

On emerging into the Rue Saint-Andre-des-Arcs, Captain Phoebus perceived
that some one was following him. On glancing sideways by chance, he
perceived a sort of shadow crawling after him along the walls. He
halted, it halted; he resumed his march, it resumed its march. This
disturbed him not overmuch. "Ah, bah!" he said to himself, "I have not a
sou."

He paused in front of the College d'Autun. It was at this college that
he had sketched out what he called his studies, and, through a scholar's
teasing habit which still lingered in him, he never passed the facade
without inflicting on the statue of Cardinal Pierre Bertrand, sculptured
to the right of the portal, the affront of which Priapus complains so
bitterly in the satire of Horace, _Olim truncus eram ficulnus_. He
had done this with so much unrelenting animosity that the inscription,
_Eduensis episcopu