ss expended about
it in bombards than in bells. Its fortress was still to be seen in 1610.
To-day, barely its church remains.

* Cut-throat. Coupe-gueule being the vulgar word for cut-weazand.

Let us return to Notre-Dame.

When the first arrangements were completed, and we must say, to the
honor of vagabond discipline, that Clopin's orders were executed in
silence, and with admirable precision, the worthy chief of the band,
mounted on the parapet of the church square, and raised his hoarse and
surly voice, turning towards Notre-Dame, and brandishing his torch whose
light, tossed by the wind, and veiled every moment by its own smoke,
made the reddish facade of the church appear and disappear before the
eye.

"To you, Louis de Beaumont, bishop of Paris, counsellor in the Court of
Parliament, I, Clopin Trouillefou, king of Thunes, grand Coesre, prince
of Argot, bishop of fools, I say: Our sister, falsely condemned for
magic, hath taken refuge in your church, you owe her asylum and safety.
Now the Court of Parliament wishes to seize her once more there, and you
consent to it; so that she would be hanged to-morrow in the Greve, if
God and the outcasts were not here. If your church is sacred, so is our
sister; if our sister is not sacred, neither is your church. That is why
we call upon you to return the girl if you wish to save your church, or
we will take possession of the girl again and pillage the church, which
will be a good thing. In token of which I here plant my banner, and may
God preserve you, bishop of Paris."

Quasimodo could not, unfortunately, hear these words uttered with a sort
of sombre and savage majesty. A vagabond presented his banner to Clopin,
who planted it solemnly between two paving-stones. It was a pitchfork
from whose points hung a bleeding quarter of carrion meat.

That done, the King of Thunes turned round and cast his eyes over his
army, a fierce multitude whose glances flashed almost equally with their
pikes. After a momentary pause,--"Forward, my Sons!" he cried; "to work,
locksmiths!"

Thirty bold men, square shouldered, and with pick-lock faces, stepped
from the ranks, with hammers, pincers, and bars of iron on their
shoulders. They betook themselves to the principal door of the church,
ascended the steps, and were soon to be seen squatting under the arch,
working at the door with pincers and levers; a throng of vagabonds
followed them to help or look on. The eleven steps