Bab Bab 2 · PIERRE GRINGOIRE.

. PIERRE GRINGOIRE.

Nevertheless, as he harangued them, the satisfaction and

admiration unanimously excited by his costume were dissipated by

his words; and when he reached that untoward conclusion: “As soon

as his illustrious eminence, the cardinal, arrives, we will

begin,” his voice was drowned in a thunder of hooting.

“Begin instantly! The mystery! the mystery immediately!” shrieked

the people. And above all the voices, that of Johannes de

Molendino was audible, piercing the uproar like the fife’s

derisive serenade: “Commence instantly!” yelped the scholar.

“Down with Jupiter and the Cardinal de Bourbon!” vociferated

Robin Poussepain and the other clerks perched in the window.

“The morality this very instant!” repeated the crowd; “this very

instant! the sack and the rope for the comedians, and the

cardinal!”

Poor Jupiter, haggard, frightened, pale beneath his rouge,

dropped his thunderbolt, took his cap in his hand; then he bowed

and trembled and stammered: “His eminence—the ambassadors—Madame

Marguerite of Flanders—.” He did not know what to say. In truth,

he was afraid of being hung.

Hung by the populace for waiting, hung by the cardinal for not

having waited, he saw between the two dilemmas only an abyss;

that is to say, a gallows.

Luckily, some one came to rescue him from his embarrassment, and

assume the responsibility.

An individual who was standing beyond the railing, in the free

space around the marble table, and whom no one had yet caught

sight of, since his long, thin body was completely sheltered from

every visual ray by the diameter of the pillar against which he

was leaning; this individual, we say, tall, gaunt, pallid, blond,

still young, although already wrinkled about the brow and cheeks,

with brilliant eyes and a smiling mouth, clad in garments of

black serge, worn and shining with age, approached the marble

table, and made a sign to the poor sufferer. But the other was so

confused that he did not see him. The new comer advanced another

step.

“Jupiter,” said he, “my dear Jupiter!”

The other did not hear.

At last, the tall blond, driven out of patience, shrieked almost

in his face,—

“Michel Giborne!”

“Who calls me?” said Jupiter, as though awakened with a start.

“I,” replied the person clad in black.

“Ah!” said Jupiter.

“Begin at once,” went on the other. “Satisfy the populace; I

undertake to appease the bailiff, who will appease