the hunchback of notre dame-第42部分

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he　only　opening　which　admits　a　small　quantity　of　light　and　air　to　a　little　cell　without　a　door；　constructed　on　the　ground…floor；　in　the　thickness　of　the　walls　of　the　old　house；　and　filled　with　a　peace　all　the　more　profound；　with　a　silence　all　the　more　gloomy；　because　a　public　place；　the　most　populous　and　most　noisy　in　Paris　swarms　and　shrieks　around　it。

This　little　cell　had　been　celebrated　in　Paris　for　nearly　three　centuries；　ever　since　Madame　Rolande　de　la　Tour…Roland；　in　mourning　for　her　father　who　died　in　the　Crusades；　had　caused　it　to　be　hollowed　out　in　the　wall　of　her　own　house；　in　order　to　immure　herself　there　forever；　keeping　of　all　her　palace　only　this　lodging　whose　door　was　walled　up；　and　whose　window　stood　open；　winter　and　summer；　giving　all　the　rest　to　the　poor　and　to　God。　　The　afflicted　damsel　had；　in　fact；　waited　twenty　years　for　death　in　this　premature　tomb；　praying　night　and　day　for　the　soul　of　her　father；　sleeping　in　ashes；　without　even　a　stone　for　a　pillow；　clothed　in　a　black　sack；　and　subsisting　on　the　bread　and　water　which　the　compassion　of　the　passers…by　led　them　to　deposit　on　the　ledge　of　her　window；　thus　receiving　charity　after　having　bestowed　it。　　At　her　death；　at　the　moment　when　she　was　passing　to　the　other　sepulchre；　she　had　bequeathed　this　one　in　perpetuity　to　afflicted　women；　mothers；　widows；　or　maidens；　who　should　wish　to　pray　much　for　others　or　for　themselves；　and　who　should　desire　to　inter　themselves　alive　in　a　great　grief　or　a　great　penance。　　The　poor　of　her　day　had　made　her　a　fine　funeral；　with　tears　and　benedictions；　but；　to　their　great　regret；　the　pious　maid　had　not　been　canonized；　for　lack　of　influence。　　Those　among　them　who　were　a　little　inclined　to　impiety；　had　hoped　that　the　matter　might　be　accomplished　in　Paradise　more　easily　than　at　Rome；　and　had　frankly　besought　God；　instead　of　the　pope；　in　behalf　of　the　deceased。　　The　majority　had　contented　themselves　with　holding　the　memory　of　Rolande　sacred；　and　converting　her　rags　into　relics。　　The　city；　on　its　side；　had　founded　in　honor　of　the　damoiselle；　a　public　breviary；　which　had　been　fastened　near　the　window　of　the　cell；　in　order　that　passers…by　might　halt　there　from　time　to　time；　were　it　only　to　pray；　that　prayer　might　remind　them　of　alms；　and　that　the　poor　recluses；　heiresses　of　Madame　Rolande's　vault；　might　not　die　outright　of　hunger　and　forgetfulness。

Moreover；　this　sort　of　tomb　was　not　so　very　rare　a　thing　in　the　cities　of　the　Middle　Ages。　　One　often　encountered　in　the　most　frequented　street；　in　the　most　crowded　and　noisy　market；　in　the　very　middle；　under　the　feet　of　the　horses；　under　the　wheels　of　the　carts；　as　it　were；　a　cellar；　a　well；　a　tiny　walled　and　grated　cabin；　at　the　bottom　of　which　a　human　being　prayed　night　and　day；　voluntarily　devoted　to　some　eternal　lamentation；　to　some　great　expiation。　　And　all　the　reflections　which　that　strange　spectacle　would　awaken　in　us　to…day；　that　horrible　cell；　a　sort　of　intermediary　link　between　a　house　and　the　tomb；　the　cemetery　and　the　city；　that　living　being　cut　off　from　the　human　community；　and　thenceforth　reckoned　among　the　dead；　that　lamp　consuming　its　last　drop　of　oil　in　the　darkness；　that　remnant　of　life　flickering　in　the　grave；　that　breath；　that　voice；　that　eternal　prayer　in　a　box　of　stone；　that　face　forever　turned　towards　the　other　world；　that　eye　already　illuminated　with　another　sun；　that　ear　pressed　to　the　walls　of　a　tomb；　that　soul　a　prisoner　in　that　body；　that　body　a　prisoner　in　that　dungeon　cell；　and　beneath　that　double　envelope　of　flesh　and　granite；　the　murmur　of　that　soul　in　pain；nothing　of　all　this　was　perceived　by　the　crowd。　The　piety　of　that　age；　not　very　subtle　nor　much　given　to　reasoning；　did　not　see　so　many　facets　in　an　act　of　religion。　It　took　the　thing　in　the　block；　honored；　venerated；　hallowed　the　sacrifice　at　need；　but　did　not　analyze　the　sufferings；　and　felt　but　moderate　pity　for　them。　　It　brought　some　pittance　to　the　miserable　penitent　from　time　to　time；　looked　through　the　hole　to　see　whether　he　were　still　living；　forgot　his　name；　hardly　knew　how　many　years　ago　he　had　begun　to　die；　and　to　the　stranger；　who　questioned　them　about　the　living　skeleton　who　was　perishing　in　that　cellar；　the　neighbors　replied　simply；　〃It　is　the　recluse。〃

Everything　was　then　viewed　without　metaphysics；　without　exaggeration；　without　magnifying　glass；　with　the　naked　eye。　The　microscope　had　not　yet　been　invented；　either　for　things　of　matter　or　for　things　of　the　mind。

Moreover；　although　people　were　but　little　surprised　by　it；　the　examples　of　this　sort　of　cloistration　in　the　hearts　of　cities　were　in　truth　frequent；　as　we　have　just　said。　　There　were　in　Paris　a　considerable　number　of　these　cells；　for　praying　to　God　and　doing　penance；　they　were　nearly　all　occupied。　　It　is　true　that　the　clergy　did　not　like　to　have　them　empty；　since　that　implied　lukewarmness　in　believers；　and　that　lepers　were　put　into　them　when　there　were　no　penitents　on　hand。　　Besides　the　cell　on　the　Grève；　there　was　one　at　Montfau？on；　one　at　the　Charnier　des　Innocents；　another　I　hardly　know　where；at　the　Clichon　House；　I　think；　others　still　at　many　spots　where　traces　of　them　are　found　in　traditions；　in　default　of　memorials。　The　University　had　also　its　own。　　On　Mount　Sainte…Geneviève　a　sort　of　Job　of　the　Middle　Ages；　for　the　space　of　thirty　years；　chanted　the　seven　penitential　psalms　on　a　dunghill　at　the　bottom　of　a　cistern；　beginning　anew　when　he　had　finished；　singing　loudest　at　night；　~magna　voce　per　umbras~；　and　to…day；　the　antiquary　fancies　that　he　hears　his　voice　as　he　enters　the　Rue　du　Puits…qui…parlethe　street　of　the　〃Speaking　Well。〃

To　confine　ourselves　to　the　cell　in　the　Tour…Roland；　we　must　say　that　it　had　never　lacked　recluses。　　After　the　death　of　Madame　Roland；　it　had　stood　vacant　for　a　year　or　two；　though　rarely。　　Many　women　had　come　thither　to　mourn；　until　their　death；　for　relatives；　lovers；　faults。　　Parisian　malice；　which　thrusts　its　finger　into　everything；　even　into　things　which　concern　it　the　least；　affirmed　that　it　had　beheld　but　few　widows　there。

In　accordance　with　the　fashion　of　the　epoch；　a　Latin　inscription　on　the　wall　indicated　to　the　learned　passer…by　the　pious　purpose　of　this　cell。　　The　custom　was　retained　until　the　middle　of　the　sixteenth　century　of　explaining　an　edifice　by　a　brief　device　inscribed　above　the　door。　　Thus；　one　still　reads　in　France；　above　the　wicket　of　the　prison　in　the　seignorial　mansion　of　Tourville；　~Sileto　et　spera~；　in　Ireland；　beneath　the　armorial　bearings　which　surmount　the　grand　door　to　Fortescue　Castle；　~Forte　scutum；　salus　ducum~；　in　England；　over　the　principal　entrance　to　the　hospitable　mansion　of　the　Earls　Cowper：　~Tuum　est~。　　At　that　time　every　edifice　was　a　thought。

As　there　was　no　door　to　the　walled　cell　of　the　Tour…Roland；　these　two　words　had　been　carved　in　large　Roman　capitals　over　the　window；


　　　TU；　ORA。


And　this　caused　the　people；　whose　good　sense　does　not　perceive　so　much　refinement　in　things；　and　likes　to　translate　_Ludovico　Magno_　by　〃Porte　Saint…Denis；〃　to　give　to　this　dark；　gloomy；　damp　cavity；　the　name　of　〃The　Rat…Hole。〃　　An　explanation　less　sublime；　perhaps；　than　the　other；　but；　on　the　other　hand；　more　picturesque。



CHAPTER　III。

HISTORY　OF　A　LEAVENED　CAKE　OF　MAIZE。



At　the　epoch　of　this　history；　the　cell　in　the　Tour…Roland　was　occupied。　　If　the　reader　desires　to　know　by　whom；　he　has　only　to　lend　an　ear　to　the　conversation　of　three　worthy　gossips；　who；　at　the　moment　when　we　have　directed　his　attention　to　the　Rat…Hole；　were　directing　their　steps　towards　the　same　spot；　coming　up　along　the　water's　edge　from　the　Chatelet；　towards　the　Grève。

Two　of　these　women　were　dressed　like　good　~bourgeoises~　of　Paris。　　Their　fine　white　ruffs；　their　petticoats　of　linsey…　woolsey；　striped　red　and　blue；　their　white　knitted　stockings；　with　clocks　embroidered　in　colors；　well　drawn　upon　their　legs；　the　square…toed　shoes　of　tawny　leather　with　black　soles；　and；　above　all；　their　headgear；　that　sort　of　tinsel　horn；　loaded　down　with　ribbons　and　laces；　which　the　women　of　Champagne　still　wear；　in　company　with　the　grenadiers　of　the　imperial　guard　of　Russia；　announced　that　they　belonged　to　that　class　wives　which　holds　the　middle　ground　between　what　the　lackeys　call　a　woman　and　what　they　term　a　lady。　　They　wore　neither　rings　nor　gold　crosses；　and　it　was　easy　to　see　that；　in　their　ease；　this　did　not　proceed　from　poverty；　but　simply　from　fear　of　being　fined。　　Their　companion　was　attired　in　very　much　the　same　manner；　but　there　was　that　indescribable　something　about　her　dress　and　bearing　which　suggested　the　wife　of　a　provincial　notary。　　One　could　see；　by　the　way　in　which　her　girdle　rose　above　her　hips；　that　she　had　not　been　long　in　Paris。Add　to　this　a　plaited　tucker；　knots　of　ribbon　on　her　shoesand　that　the　stripes　of　her　petticoat　ran　horizontally　instead　of　vertically；　and　a　thousand　other　enormities　which　shocked　good　taste。

The　two　first　walked　with　that　step　peculiar　to　Parisian　ladies；　showing　Paris　to　women　from　the　country。　　The　provincial　held　by　the　hand　a　big　boy；　who　held　in　his　a　large；　flat　cake。

We　regret　to　be　obliged　to　add；　that；　owing　to　the　rigor　of　the　season；　he　was　using　his　tongue　as　a　handkerchief。

The　child　was　making　them　drag　him　along；　~non　passibus　Cequis~；　as　Virgil　says；　and　stumbling　at　every　moment；　to　the　great　indignation　of　his　mother。　　It　is　true　that　he　was　looking　at　his　cake　more　than　at　the　pavement。　　Some　serious　motive；　no　doubt；　prevented　his　biting　it　（the　cake）；　for　he　contented　himself　with　gazing　tenderly　at　it。　　But　the　mother　should　have　rather　taken　charge　of　the　cake。　　It　was　cruel　to　make　a　Tantalus　of　the　chubby…checked　boy。

Meanwhile；　the　three　demoiselles　（for　the　name　of　dames　was　then　reserved　for　noble　women）　were　all　talking　at　once。

〃Let　us　make　haste；　Demoiselle　Mahiette；〃　said　the　youngest　of　the　three；　who　was　also　the　largest；　to　the　provincial；　〃I　greatly　fear　that　we　shall　arrive　too　late；　they　told　us　at　the　Chatelet　that　they　were　going　to　take　him　directly　to　the　pillory。〃

〃Ah；　bah！　what　are　you　saying；　Demoiselle　Oudarde　Musnier？〃　interposed　the　other　Parisienne。　　〃There　are　two　hours　yet　to　the　pillory。　　We　have　time　enough。　　Have　you　ever　seen　any　one　pilloried；　my　dear　Mahiette？〃