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巴黎圣母院|Notre-Dame de Paris

Book 7 Chapter 4 Anarkh|Book 7 Chapter 4 Anarkh

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 维克多-雨果] 阅读：[34232]
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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就在这同一个三月里一个美好的早晨，我想就是二十九日那个礼拜六吧，那天是圣厄斯达谢纪念日，我们的年青朋友，磨房的若望·孚罗洛披衣下床的时候，发觉他放在裤子口袋里那只装得满满的钱包里已经没有半点钱币的响声了。“可怜的钱包啊，”他把钱包从裤子口袋里掏出来说，“怎么，连一枚小银币都没有啦！赌博、啤酒和维纳斯多么残酷地把你掏空了！你变得多么空虚和皱缩，松垮得多么厉害呀！你真象一张发怒的嘴似的。西塞罗先生和塞伦加先生，你们的著作，那些包了角的书都散在我的地板上。我请问你们，尽管我比一位造币厂厂长或者欧项热桥的犹太人更清楚，一个有王冠的金币值三十五个昂仁，一个昂仁值二十五个巴黎索尔零八个德尼埃，一个带新月的银币值三十六个昂仁，每个昂仁值二十六个杜尔索尔零六个德尼埃，但这有什么用呀？假若我连可以去压一次双六的可怜的黑铜钱都没有。

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西塞罗执政官，这个灾难可不是凭一个比拟法或是几个‘怎样’和几个‘但是’就逃得掉的呀！”

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他不高兴地穿好衣服，扣钮扣的当儿忽然起了一个念头，起先他克制住不去想，这会儿却又想起来，弄得他背心都穿反了，显然是他心里有什么在剧烈斗争。最后他使劲把帽子扔到地上嚷道：“糟透了！随它去吧！我要去找我的哥哥。我会挨一顿骂，可是我会拿到一个银币。”

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于是他急忙披上装有皮领的外衣，捡起帽子怏怏不乐地出了门。

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他从竖琴街向旧城区走去。经过号角街的时候，那不断飘散在风中的烤野味的香气送进了他的鼻孔，他向一家烤肉店爱慕地看了一眼，那个烤肉店曾经在某一天使那个方济各会的修士卡拉塔齐罗纳发出了可怜的感叹：“这些小酒馆的确了不起啊！”可是若望吃不上早点啦，他深深叹了口气走进了小沙特雷门的城门洞，那里有一群三叶形高塔护卫着旧城区的入口。

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他甚至没有工夫象往常那样朝倍西内·勒克韦尔的雕像扔一块石头。把查理六世的巴黎送给了英国人的就是这个倍西内·勒克韦尔，为了惩罚他，人们把他的脸孔打破了，涂满了污泥，三个世纪以来他一直在竖琴街和比西街上受着折磨，就象是在一座永久性的刑台上一样。

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过了小桥，走完新圣热纳维埃夫街，若望·德·梅朗狄诺就站在圣母院前面了，他又犹豫起来，在勒格里先生的塑像周围徘徊了一会，烦恼地连声说：“挨骂是准定的，银币却不一定弄得到手！”

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他拦住从修道院出来的一个仆役问道：“若扎斯的副主教先生在什么地方？”

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“我想他是在塔上他自己的小房间里吧，”仆役说，“我劝你不要到那里去打扰他，除非你是教皇或是国王陛下派来的什么人。”

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若望拍起手来。“真见鬼！这正是看看那魔窟的一个好机会呢！”

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这样一想他便下了决心，冲向那道黑黑的小门，开始去爬那通向钟塔顶上的弯弯曲曲的楼梯了。“我倒要看看，”他一路走一路说道，“凭圣母的名义，那一定是个神秘的地方，我那可敬的哥哥把自己小心地关在里面，人家说他有时在那里烧起地狱的火炉，用大火烤那块炼金石呢。我看那块炼金石不过是块普通的石头罢咧，比起世界上最大的炼金石来，我倒宁愿在他的火炉里找到一块复活节的脂油蛋糕！”

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到了柱廊跟前，他停下来喘了一口气，接着便用千万个魔鬼的名字咒骂起那走不完的梯级来了，随后他鼓足勇气向如今禁止普通人上去的通到北边那座钟塔的小门走去。经过挂钟的那个栅栏几分钟后，他碰到一个侧面的壁龛和一道低矮的尖拱门，正对着螺旋梯扶壁的地方有一个枪眼，使他看得见门上的那把大锁和那高高的铁框。如今来访问的人，看到刻在发黑的墙上的这几个白色的字一定会十分惊讶，这些字是“我崇拜果拉里。一八二九年，雨仁签署。”“签署”一词是原文所有的。

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“嘘！”中学生说道，“一定是这里了。”

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钥匙插在钥匙孔里，房门没有锁住，他把门轻轻推开一点，然后探头朝房里看去。

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读者一定看见过伦勃朗（他是画家里面的莎士比亚）的杰作吧。那许多卓绝的版画中，特别有一幅铜版画，好象画的是浮士德博士，使你一看就不能不被它迷住。那幅画上画着一个阴暗的小房间，房间中央有一张桌子，桌上摆满了好些可怕的东西：死人头骨、地球仪、蒸馏器、罗盘以及写着象形文字的羊皮纸。那位博士坐在桌前，穿着粗布宽袍，插羽毛的帽子拉到眉毛上，你只能看见他的上半身。他在他那巨大的安乐椅上半抬着身子，两个紧握着的拳头撑在桌上，好奇地恐怖地望着一个用魔幻文字构成的光亮的圈子，它在小屋尽头墙上闪亮着，在那阴暗的屋子里仿佛是太阳的幽灵一样。

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这个阴暗的太阳好象在眼睛里颤动，把它神秘的光辉充满了那个小房间，真是又好看又可怕。

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若望把脑袋伸进半开的房门时，某种与浮士德的密室十分相似的景象呈现到他的眼前：也是同样阴森森的不大明亮的房间，同样也有一把安乐椅和一张大桌子，几只罗盘，几只蒸馏器，天花板上也挂着动物的骨头，地板上滚着一个球仪，乱七八糟地放着几只装着各色药汁的玻璃瓶，有几片金色的树叶在里面颤动，几个死人头骨放在写满奇怪文字画满人像的羊皮纸上，一叠不当心折坏了角的易脆的羊皮纸手稿摊开在桌上，还有一股化学药品的怪气味。在那些乱七八糟的东西上面到处是灰尘和蛛网，不过那里并没有光亮的文字所构成的光圈，也没有出神的博士象鹫鹰一样在望着光辉的幻影。

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不过这间小屋里并不是没有人的，有个男人坐在一把安乐椅上，手肘靠着桌子。他是背着若望的，若望只能看见他的肩膀和后脑勺，但是他不难认出那个秃头，大自然给了那个头颅永远的削发式，好象是要从外貌的特征来表现副主教的无与伦比的圣职。

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若望认得那就是他的哥哥，不过他推门的声音很轻，以致堂·克洛德丝毫没有觉察他的到来。好奇的学生便利用这个机会把那小房间察看了一番。

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他起先没有注意到椅子右边的窗口下有一只大火炉，从窗口射进来的日光穿过一张又大又圆的蜘蛛网，有趣地在窗子的尖拱上雕镂出一个大菊花形，那虫豸建筑家象是菊形网的轴心似的盘据在当中。火炉上杂乱地放着各种瓶瓶罐罐，小玻璃药瓶、曲颈瓶、椭圆瓶。若望看见火炉上连口小锅都没有，不禁感叹起来。“这可新鲜哪，这套厨房家具！”他想道。

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而且火炉里并没有火，好象很久就没有生过火了。在那些化学仪器中间，若望看见一个玻璃做的面具，那当然是副主教做危险的实验时用来遮住脸孔的了，它放在一个角落里，被灰尘盖满了，好象被人遗忘了似的。旁边有一只同样满是灰尘的风箱，上面有铜刻的铭文“灵感，要有信心”。

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墙上还有大量炼金家常用的铭文，有些是用墨水写的，有些是用一把金属刻刀刻成的，哥特文、希伯来文、希腊文和罗马文混在一起，一个盖住一个，新的字迹盖没了旧的字迹，就象参差不齐的树枝互相交错着，又象正在交战中的戈和矛一样，那的确是一切哲学，一切梦幻，一切人类学问的杂乱的混合。其中有一个字在其余的字迹上闪亮，好象一面旗子在一堆戈矛中一样。大部分是中世纪人撰写得挺好的拉丁的或希腊的格言短句：“从何时？

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从何地？”“对人来说人是怪物。”“星、星座、名称、神明。”“一本伟大的书，一次巨大的痛苦。”“敢于追求智慧。”“需要的时候就会产生思想。”等等，等等。有时又是一个并无半点明显意义的希腊字，其中或许包含着修道院制度的痛苦的暗示。有的是写成六音步诗句的圣职训规：“你在大地上的统治是靠了上天之力。”还有一些杂乱的希伯来草书，只认得很少几个希腊字的若望一点也不懂。在所有这些文字中间还到处点缀着星星、人像、动物图形和交叉三角形，把墙壁弄得活象猴儿用饱蘸墨汁的笔划得乱七八糟的一张纸一样。

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这个小房间其余部分呈现着破败景象，从那些杂乱的器具看来，可以猜到房间的主人长久忙于别的事情，放弃了自己的工作。

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这时房间的主人正低头在看画满图形的手稿，好象被一种不断来到他心里的念头弄得昏头昏脑，至少若望打赌说他听到主教象在梦中大声讲话的梦游人那样嚷道： “是呀，玛鲁是这样说的，查拉图士特拉是这样训诫的。太阳生于火，月亮生于太阳。火是宇宙的灵魂，它所有的原子不断形成无数细流，向地球倾泻流注，这些细流在空气里相遇的焦点就产生光，在地球上相遇的焦点就产生黄金。”“光和黄金是同样的东西，它们都是由火凝集而成。在这两种相同的物质之间，只有可见与可触、液体与固体、气体与冰块之间的差异，这并不是梦幻。”“这是自然的一般规律。但是怎样用科学去把这种一般规律的秘密探寻出来呢？怎么，照在我手上的这种光竟是黄金吗？这些原子按照某种法则扩散开去，只要按照另一种法则把它们凝结起来就行啦！”“怎么办？”“有人曾经梦想过藏起一道阳光来。”“阿威罗伊。”“是呀，是阿威罗伊。”“阿威罗伊曾经在戈尔都清真寺的可汗陵墓左边，在第一根柱头底下埋了一道阳光，但是没有人能把那墓穴掘开看看那个试验在八千年后成功了没有。”

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“见鬼！”若望在一旁说道，“为了一个银币得等很久呢！”

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“……有人曾经想过，”副主教依旧象在做梦似的自言自语，“不如用一道天狼星的光去试验更好些。但是要找到天狼星的光可就困难了，别的星辰的光同它搅在一起。弗拉梅尔断定用地狱的火去试验就比较简单。”“弗拉梅尔！这是哪一位预言家的名字呀！弗拉马——对了，弗拉马就是火，原来如此。宝石是在煤炭里，黄金是在火里。”“但是怎样去把它取出来呢？

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马吉斯特里认为有些妇女的名字具有某种非常甜蜜非常神秘的魔力，适合在做试验的时候念出来。”“咱们读一读玛鲁的话吧：‘在妇女被尊重的地方，这些格言原文是希腊文和拉丁文。

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这个希腊字的意思是“强制的饮食作息制度，就象竞技者要遵守的那一种”。

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训规的原文是拉丁文。

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神心里欢喜；在她们被轻视的地方，向上帝祷告也没用。’”“女人的嘴唇是永远纯洁的，那是流水，那是一道阳光。”“一个女人的名字应该是甜蜜的，可爱的，虚幻的，结尾是一长串元音字母，就象祷告辞里用的字一样。”

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“是呀，这位学者有道理，事实上，玛丽亚，索菲亚，爱斯梅拉……见鬼！

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老是这个念头！”

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他把书使劲合上了。

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他用手按住额头，仿佛想把那使他痛苦的念头赶开，随后他放了一枚钉子和一把小铁锤在桌子上，锤柄上怪诞地刻着些神秘字句。

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“好久以来，”他痛苦地笑笑说，“我的试验老是失败，有一种想法老是纠缠着我，象一块烧红的烙铁在我的脑子里一样。我连伽斯阿朵尔的秘密都不能发现，他曾经制造过一盏不用灯芯也不用油就能点燃的灯。这本是挺简单的东西嘛！”

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“见鬼！”若望嘀咕道。

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“只要一个可怜的念头，”神甫接着说道，“就能使人软弱和疯狂！让克洛德·倍尔奈尔笑话我吧，让她去说这种念头并不曾使尼古拉·弗拉梅尔发昏过一刻！怎么！我手里握的是塞西埃雷的魔锤呀！在那可怕的法师的小屋里，他每用锤敲一下钉子，他所诅咒的两千里外的仇敌就会沉落到地底下一胳膊深。就连法兰西国王本人，某个晚上也因为轻率地敲了一下那个魔法师的门，就在巴黎的大街上陷落下去，一直陷到了膝盖。”“这件事发生了还不到三个世纪。”“好哇！我有钉子和锤子，它们在我的手里并不比刀具工手里的尺子更可怕。”“可是关键只在于要找到塞西埃雷敲钉子时念的那个魔术般的字。”

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“无聊！”若望想道。

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“咱们要瞧瞧，咱们要试试！”副主教说得较快，“要是我试验成功了，我就会看见一朵蓝色的火焰从钉子头上迸出来。”“艾芒——艾当！艾芒——艾当！不是这样念法。”“西日阿尼！西日阿尼！”“让这个钉子给那名叫弗比斯的人掘开坟墓吧！……该死，总是……老是……永远是这个同样的念头！”

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他气恼地扔掉了锤子，随后他便颓丧地坐在桌前的椅子上，被高大的椅背挡住了，若望看不见他，有好几分钟若望只看得见他的拳头紧握着放在一本书上。忽然，堂·克洛德站立起来，拿起一只罗盘针，默默地在墙上刻下这个大写的希腊字：’ANA ΓKH“我哥哥疯啦，”若望自言自语道，“要是写成拉丁文不是简单得多吗？

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并不是每个人都非懂得希腊文不可呀！”

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副主教又在椅子上坐下来，把头埋在两只手里，好象一个发热的病人，头很沉。

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中学生惊讶地观察他的哥哥，这个心地坦白的人，这个除了自然法则之外便不知世上还有别种法则的人，这个听凭感情自然流露的人，他心里的强烈感情的湖泊永远是干涸的，他十分习惯于每天早上挖些新的沟渠来把其中的水排掉。他可不知道这种人类感情的海洋假若被人堵住了出口，就会多么疯狂地汹涌奔腾，会怎样暴涨，怎样升高，怎样泛滥，怎样刺透人的心，怎样使人心里发出叹息，怎样使人发狂，直到它冲破堤岸泛滥成灾。克洛德·孚罗洛的严厉冷峻的形象，他表面上难以企及的矜持，往往使若望受骗。那快活的学生从来没有想到过在那座埃特纳火山雪白的山岩下竟会有汹涌的、深沉的、疯狂的岩浆。

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我们不知道他此刻有没有这些想法，但性情愉快的他知道自己看见了不应该看见的景象，他这才发觉他的兄长的灵魂进入了一种最最神秘的境界，他一定不能让克洛德发现他在跟前。看见副主教又沉到他的坐椅中，象先前那样纹丝不动了，他便极轻地把头缩回来，在门后面踏响几声，好象他是刚刚到来，在向人通报一样。

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“进来！”副主教在密室里喊道，“我等着你呢。我明明把钥匙放在钥匙孔里的。进来吧，雅克阁下。”

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那个学生大着胆子进去了。这个时候碰到这样一种来访，使副主教相当不便，他在椅子里抖了一下说，“怎么！是你呀，若望？”“总算也是一个名字用同一个字母开头的人呀，”学生涨红着脸，厚颜地愉快地回答。

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堂·克洛德又板起那副严厉的面孔来了。

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“你到这里来干什么？”

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“我的哥哥，”学生装出一副可怜巴巴的、稳重而谦恭的样子，以一副清白无辜的神气转动着手里的帽子，“我来向你讨求……”

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“什么？”

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“一点我极其需要的教训。”若望不敢大声说出“还要一点我极其需要的钱。”这后半句根本没有说出来。

52
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“先生，”副主教用冷淡的口气说，“我对你很不满意。”“哎！”学生叹了一口气。

53
-

堂·克洛德把他的椅子转动了一下，牢牢盯住若望说：“我正要见你。”

54
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这是一个不吉的预兆，若望准备狠狠地挨一顿骂了。

55
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“若望，每天都有人向我报告你的恶劣行为。你同那个阿倍尔·德·拉蒙相小伯爵打架是怎么回事？”

56
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“啊，”若望说，“那算什么大不了！那坏小子骑着马在泥浆里跑，把同学们溅了一身污泥！”

57
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“那又是怎么回事呢，”副主教又问道，“你为什么撕掉马西耶·法尔吉的衣服呢？那人诉苦说‘都撕光了’。”

58
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“不对，才不过撕破了一块劣等蒙泰古头巾罢了！”

59
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“那人说的是‘撕光’，不是‘撕破’，你懂拉丁文么？”若望没有回答。

60
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“是呀，”神甫摇摇头接着说，“现在不大流行学语言啦，难得听到人讲拉丁语。叙利亚语没人懂，希腊语那么被人厌恶，连大学者碰到一个希腊字都跳过去不念，他们说：‘这是个希腊字，没法念。’”

61
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于是学生就大胆地抬起眼睛：“我的兄长大人，你愿意我用上好的法语把墙上那个希腊字解释给你听吗？”

62
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副主教的脸上泛起淡淡的红潮，好象火山由于内在的秘密震动产生的烟缕。那学生倒没怎么注意。

63
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“好呀，若望，”兄长勉强结结巴巴地说，“这个字是什么意思呢？”

64
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“是‘命运’。”

65
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堂·克洛德脸色发白了，那个学生还不在乎地说下去：“还有下边那个字，同一个人的手刻下的那另一个希腊字，意思是‘淫秽’。你看我的希腊文学得不错呢。”

66
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副主教默不出声，这个希腊文课程使他沉思起来。具备惯坏了的孩子一切本领的若望，看出那正是提出他要求的好时机，便装出极温柔的声音说：“我的好哥哥，你一定不会因为我同一群猫狗般的孩子——一群丑八怪中间有点小小的口角和斗殴就讨厌我吧？你看我的拉丁语学得不错呀。”

67
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但是这假装的哀求在那位严厉的兄长身上并没有产生往常惯有的效果，猎狗是不吃奶油蛋糕的啊。副主教额上的皱纹一丝也没有舒展开。

68
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“你究竟是来干什么的？”他用毫无感情的口气问道。

69
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“哎呀，真是！”若望鼓起勇气答道，“我要钱。”

70
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听见这个坦率的告白，副主教脸上立刻有了一种好象父亲教训儿子似的表情。

71
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“若望先生，你知道我们蒂尔夏浦领地的收入并不好，那二十一所房子的租金和别的捐税，只有三十九个巴黎里弗十一索尔六德尼埃。这比巴克雷修士那时候要多一半了，可是并不算多呢。”

72
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“我要钱。”若望无动于衷地说道。

73
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“你知道官府决定要我们拆迁那靠近主教管区的二十一所房子，除非付给尊敬的主教两个值六巴黎里弗的金马克，才能赎补这项过失。我还没有积蓄下这两个金马克呢，这你是知道的。”

74
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“我只知道我需要钱。”若望第三次说道。

75
-

“你要钱干什么？”

76
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这句问话使若望的眼睛里闪出一道希望的光，他重新装出温柔可爱的样子。

77
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“听我说呀，亲爱的哥哥，我不会因为乱花钱来求你的。我并不是想把你的钱拿去花在酒店里，也不是想拿去买件花缎衣服穿在身上，让听差们跟着在巴黎的大街上出风头。都不是呀，哥哥，我是要拿去做件好事。”

78
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“什么好事？”克洛德有点惊异地问道。

79
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“我有两个朋友想给圣母升天会的一个穷寡妇的孩子买襁褓布。那要值三个银币。我也要出一份。”

80
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“你那两个朋友叫什么名字？”

81
-

“比埃尔·拉索梅尔和巴甫第斯特·克罗格·阿瓦松。”

82
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“嗯！”副主教说，“要想叫这两个家伙做好事，等于想在神坛上放炮仗！”

83
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若望挑选了这样两个人做朋友真是糟糕，可是他明白得太晚了。

84
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“而且，”精明的克洛德继续追问道，“什么样的襁褓布能值三个银币？

85
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那种襁褓布是圣母升天会的孩子用的吗？那个寡妇什么时候有包在襁褓里的婴孩呀？”

86
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若望又一次厚着脸皮说：“是啊，我要钱是为了今天晚上到爱情谷去看依莎波·拉·蒂耶里。”

87
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“不要脸的东西！”神甫叫喊起来。

88
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“‘淫秽’的东西。”若望说。

89
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学生可能是不怀好意地借用了写在房间墙上的这个词，但这个词却对神甫产生了奇怪的作用，他咬着嘴唇，气得脸都红了。

90
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“滚出去吧，”他向若望说，“我正在等一个人。”

91
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那个学生打算再作一番努力。“克洛德哥哥，至少给我一枚小银币去吃晚饭吧。”

92
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“你那格阿纪昂的教令课读到哪儿了？”堂·克洛德问。

93
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“我的练习本丢掉啦。”

94
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“你的拉丁人文科学读到哪儿了？”

95
-

“我的贺拉斯的讲义被人偷去啦。”

96
-

“你的亚里士多德读到哪儿了？”

97
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“真的呀，哥哥，教堂里的神父为什么说异教徒老是在亚里士多德的哲学里寻找遁词呢？什么亚里士多德！我可不愿意让亚里士多德的哲学破坏我的宗教信仰！”

98
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“年轻人，”副主教说道，“上次国王进京的时候，有一位名叫菲立浦·德·果明的绅士，在他的马鞍上绣着一句格言，我来背给你听听：‘不劳动者不得食。’”

99
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学生沉默了一会，抓着耳朵，眼望着地下，脸上带着怒容。他忽然用鹡鸰般的敏捷转身向着克洛德：“那么，好哥哥，你连买一块面包皮的小银币也不肯给我的了？”

100
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“不劳动者不得食。”

101
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听见副主教这句不变的答话，若望便双手捂着脸，象个哭哭啼啼的妇女那样失望地嚷道：“呵嗬呵嗬呵嗬咦！”

102
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“这是什么意思呀，先生？”听了他这种声音感到十分诧异的副主教问道。

103
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学生用拳头把眼睛揉得红红的，装出刚刚流过泪的样子，然后抬头望着克洛德说：“怎么！这是希腊文呀！这是埃斯库罗斯的一个抑抑扬格，表示伤心透顶。”

104
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于是他发出一串抖抖索索的笑声，使副主教也不得不微笑起来了。这实在是克洛德自己的错，他为什么要把他娇宠坏了呢？

105
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“啊，克洛德哥哥，”被这个微笑鼓起了勇气的若望说道，“看看我的破靴子吧！连底都快没啦，你看见过比这更惨的吗？”

106
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副主教马上又恢复了先前的严厉。“我会给你一双新靴子，但钱是没有的。”

107
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“只不过要一个小银币呀，哥哥！”若望苦苦哀求道，“我会背诵感恩祈祷，会相信上帝，会成为一个科学和真理方面的毕达哥拉斯呢，但是给我一个小银币吧，我求求你！你愿意我被饥饿吞掉吗？饥饿就在我面前大张着嘴，比出家人或是鞑靼人的鼻子更黑，更脏，更深。”

108
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堂·克洛德皱起眉头。“不劳动者——”

109
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若望不让他说下去了。

110
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“得啦！”他嚷道，“见鬼呀！快乐万岁！我要去赌钱，我要去打架，我要打破酒缸，我要去找姑娘！”

111
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他说着便把帽子往墙上一扔，把手指捏得象响板一样响。

112
-

副主教板起脸看着他。

113
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“若望，你没有灵魂。”

114
-

“这个吗？用伊壁鸠鲁的话来说，我是缺少一种没什么用的无名的东西。”

115
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“若望，应该想着认真地改悔才好。”

116
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“那呀，”学生看看他的哥哥又看看那些装在盒子里的蒸馏器，“这里一切都挺古怪，这些念头和这些瓶子！”

117
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“若望，你已经站在很陡的斜坡上了，你知道你会滑到哪儿去吗？”

118
-

“到酒店去。”若望答道。

119
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“酒店会把你带上刑台。”

120
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“那不过是同另一盏灯一样的灯，狄奥瑞纳或许就是用这盏灯找到了他伙伴的。”

121
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“刑台会把你带上绞刑架。”

122
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“绞刑架是一个天平，它的一头是人，另一头是整个的大地，当那个人可是件妙事。”

123
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“绞刑架会把你带进地狱。”

124
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“那是一炉很旺的火。”

125
-

“若望，若望，那结果会是很惨的。”

126
-

“那开头一定很好。”

127
-

这时楼梯上传来了脚步声。

128
-

“别出声！”副主教把一个手指头放在嘴唇上说道，“是雅克阁下来啦。

129
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听着，若望，”他放低声音接着说，“永远不要说出你在这里听见看见的一切。快躲到那边火炉下面去，不要出声。”学生爬到火炉底下去了，他忽然有了一个美妙的念头：“好呀，克洛德哥哥，要我不出声，你得给我一个银币。”

130
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“别响！我答应你。”

131
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“得马上拿给我。”

132
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“拿去！”副主教生气地把自己的钱包扔给他。若望躲到了火炉底下，房门被推开来了。

133
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It chanced that upon a fine morning in this same month of March, I think it was on Saturday the 29th, Saint Eustache’s day, our young friend the student, Jehan Frollo du Moulin, perceived, as he was dressing himself, that his breeches, which contained his purse, gave out no metallic ring. "Poor purse," he said, drawing it from his fob, "what! not the smallest parisis! how cruelly the dice, beer-pots, and Venus have depleted thee! How empty, wrinkled, limp, thou art! Thou resemblest the throat of a fury! I ask you, Messer Cicero, and Messer Seneca, copies of whom, all dog’s-eared, I behold scattered on the floor, what profits it me to know, better than any governor of the mint, or any Jew on the Pont aux Changeurs, that a golden crown stamped with a crown is worth thirty-five unzains of twenty-five sous, and eight deniers parisis apiece, and that a crown stamped with a crescent is worth thirty-six unzains of twenty-six sous, six deniers tournois apiece, if I have not a single wretched black liard to risk on the double-six! Oh! Consul Cicero! this is no calamity from which one extricates one’s self with periphrases, ~quemadmodum~, and ~verum enim vero~!"

1

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He dressed himself sadly. An idea had occurred to him as he laced his boots, but he rejected it at first; nevertheless, it returned, and he put on his waistcoat wrong side out, an evident sign of violent internal combat. At last he dashed his cap roughly on the floor, and exclaimed: "So much the worse! Let come of it what may. I am going to my brother! I shall catch a sermon, but I shall catch a crown."

2

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Then be hastily donned his long jacket with furred half- sleeves, picked up his cap, and went out like a man driven to desperation.

3

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He descended the Rue de la Harpe toward the City. As he passed the Rue de la Huchette, the odor of those admirable spits, which were incessantly turning, tickled his olfactory apparatus, and he bestowed a loving glance toward the Cyclopean roast, which one day drew from the Franciscan friar, Calatagirone, this pathetic exclamation: ~Veramente, queste rotisserie sono cosa stupenda~!* But Jehan had not the wherewithal to buy a breakfast, and he plunged, with a profound sigh, under the gateway of the Petit-Chatelet, that enormous double trefoil of massive towers which guarded the entrance to the City.

4

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* Truly, these roastings are a stupendous thing!

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He did not even take the trouble to cast a stone in passing, as was the usage, at the miserable statue of that Périnet Leclerc who had delivered up the Paris of Charles VI. to the English, a crime which his effigy, its face battered with stones and soiled with mud, expiated for three centuries at the corner of the Rue de la Harpe and the Rue de Buci, as in an eternal pillory.

6

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The Petit-Pont traversed, the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève crossed, Jehan de Molendino found himself in front of Notre- Dame. Then indecision seized upon him once more, and he paced for several minutes round the statue of M. Legris, repeating to himself with anguish: "The sermon is sure, the crown is doubtful."

7

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He stopped a beadle who emerged from the cloister,--"Where is monsieur the archdeacon of Josas?"

8

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"I believe that he is in his secret cell in the tower," said the beadle; "I should advise you not to disturb him there, unless you come from some one like the pope or monsieur the king."

9

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Jehan clapped his hands.

10

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"~Bécliable~! here’s a magnificent chance to see the famous sorcery cell!"

11

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This reflection having brought him to a decision, he plunged resolutely into the small black doorway, and began the ascent of the spiral of Saint-Gilles, which leads to the upper stories of the tower. "I am going to see," he said to himself on the way. "By the ravens of the Holy Virgin! it must needs be a curious thing, that cell which my reverend brother hides so secretly! ’Tis said that he lights up the kitchens of hell there, and that he cooks the philosopher’s stone there over a hot fire. ~Bédieu~! I care no more for the philosopher’s stone than for a pebble, and I would rather find over his furnace an omelette of Easter eggs and bacon, than the biggest philosopher’s stone in the world."’

12

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On arriving at the gallery of slender columns, he took breath for a moment, and swore against the interminable staircase by I know not how many million cartloads of devils; then he resumed his ascent through the narrow door of the north tower, now closed to the public. Several moments after passing the bell chamber, he came upon a little landing-place, built in a lateral niche, and under the vault of a low, pointed door, whose enormous lock and strong iron bars he was enabled to see through a loophole pierced in the opposite circular wall of the staircase. Persons desirous of visiting this door at the present day will recognize it by this inscription engraved in white letters on the black wall: "J’ADORE CORALIE, 1823. SIGNE UGENE." "Signé" stands in the text.

13

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"Ugh!" said the scholar; "’tis here, no doubt."

14

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The key was in the lock, the door was very close to him; he gave it a gentle push and thrust his head through the opening.

15

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The reader cannot have failed to turn over the admirable works of Rembrandt, that Shakespeare of painting. Amid so many marvellous engravings, there is one etching in particular, which is supposed to represent Doctor Faust, and which it is impossible to contemplate without being dazzled. It represents a gloomy cell; in the centre is a table loaded with hideous objects; skulls, spheres, alembics, compasses, hieroglyphic parchments. The doctor is before this table clad in his large coat and covered to the very eyebrows with his furred cap. He is visible only to his waist. He has half risen from his immense arm-chair, his clenched fists rest on the table, and he is gazing with curiosity and terror at a large luminous circle, formed of magic letters, which gleams from the wall beyond, like the solar spectrum in a dark chamber. This cabalistic sun seems to tremble before the eye, and fills the wan cell with its mysterious radiance. It is horrible and it is beautiful.

16

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Something very similar to Faust’s cell presented itself to Jehan’s view, when he ventured his head through the half- open door. It also was a gloomy and sparsely lighted retreat. There also stood a large arm-chair and a large table, compasses, alembics, skeletons of animals suspended from the ceiling, a globe rolling on the floor, hippocephali mingled promiscuously with drinking cups, in which quivered leaves of gold, skulls placed upon vellum checkered with figures and characters, huge manuscripts piled up wide open, without mercy on the cracking corners of the parchment; in short, all the rubbish of science, and everywhere on this confusion dust and spiders’ webs; but there was no circle of luminous letters, no doctor in an ecstasy contemplating the flaming vision, as the eagle gazes upon the sun.

17

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Nevertheless, the cell was not deserted. A man was seated in the arm-chair, and bending over the table. Jehan, to whom his back was turned, could see only his shoulders and the back of his skull; but he had no difficulty in recognizing that bald head, which nature had provided with an eternal tonsure, as though desirous of marking, by this external symbol, the archdeacon’s irresistible clerical vocation.

18

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Jehan accordingly recognized his brother; but the door had been opened so softly, that nothing warned Dom Claude of his presence. The inquisitive scholar took advantage of this circumstance to examine the cell for a few moments at his leisure. A large furnace, which he had not at first observed, stood to the left of the arm-chair, beneath the window. The ray of light which penetrated through this aperture made its way through a spider’s circular web, which tastefully inscribed its delicate rose in the arch of the window, and in the centre of which the insect architect hung motionless, like the hub of this wheel of lace. Upon the furnace were accumulated in disorder, all sorts of vases, earthenware bottles, glass retorts, and mattresses of charcoal. Jehan observed, with a sigh, that there was no frying-pan. "How cold the kitchen utensils are!" he said to himself.

19

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In fact, there was no fire in the furnace, and it seemed as though none had been lighted for a long time. A glass mask, which Jehan noticed among the utensils of alchemy, and which served no doubt, to protect the archdeacon’s face when he was working over some substance to be dreaded, lay in one corner covered with dust and apparently forgotten. Beside it lay a pair of bellows no less dusty, the upper side of which bore this inscription incrusted in copper letters: SPIRA SPERA.

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Other inscriptions were written, in accordance with the fashion of the hermetics, in great numbers on the walls; some traced with ink, others engraved with a metal point. There were, moreover, Gothic letters, Hebrew letters, Greek letters, and Roman letters, pell-mell; the inscriptions overflowed at haphazard, on top of each other, the more recent effacing the more ancient, and all entangled with each other, like the branches in a thicket, like pikes in an affray. It was, in fact, a strangely confused mingling of all human philosophies, all reveries, all human wisdom. Here and there one shone out from among the rest like a banner among lance heads. Generally, it was a brief Greek or Roman device, such as the Middle Ages knew so well how to formulate.--~Unde? Inde?--Homo homini monstrurn-Ast’ra, castra, nomen, numen.--Meya Bibklov, ueya xaxov.--Sapere aude. Fiat ubi vult~--etc.; sometimes a word devoid of all apparent sense, ~Avayxoqpayia~, which possibly contained a bitter allusion to the regime of the cloister; sometimes a simple maxim of clerical discipline formulated in a regular hexameter ~Coelestem dominum terrestrem dicite dominum~. There was also Hebrew jargon, of which Jehan, who as yet knew but little Greek, understood nothing; and all were traversed in every direction by stars, by figures of men or animals, and by intersecting triangles; and this contributed not a little to make the scrawled wall of the cell resemble a sheet of paper over which a monkey had drawn back and forth a pen filled with ink.

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The whole chamber, moreover, presented a general aspect of abandonment and dilapidation; and the bad state of the utensils induced the supposition that their owner had long been distracted from his labors by other preoccupations. Meanwhile, this master, bent over a vast manuscript, ornamented with fantastical illustrations, appeared to be tormented by an idea which incessantly mingled with his meditations. That at least was Jehan’s idea, when he heard him exclaim, with the thoughtful breaks of a dreamer thinking aloud,--

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"Yes, Manou said it, and Zoroaster taught it! the sun is born from fire, the moon from the sun; fire is the soul of the universe; its elementary atoms pour forth and flow incessantly upon the world through infinite channels! At the point where these currents intersect each other in the heavens, they produce light; at their points of intersection on earth, they produce gold. Light, gold; the same thing! From fire to the concrete state. The difference between the visible and the palpable, between the fluid and the solid in the same substance, between water and ice, nothing more. These are no dreams; it is the general law of nature. But what is one to do in order to extract from science the secret of this general law? What! this light which inundates my hand is gold! These same atoms dilated in accordance with a certain law need only be condensed in accordance with another law. How is it to be done? Some have fancied by burying a ray of sunlight, Averro?s,--yes, ’tis Averro?s,-- Averro?s buried one under the first pillar on the left of the sanctuary of the Koran, in the great Mahometan mosque of Cordova; but the vault cannot he opened for the purpose of ascertaining whether the operation has succeeded, until after the lapse of eight thousand years.

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"The devil!" said Jehan, to himself, "’tis a long while to wait for a crown!"

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"Others have thought," continued the dreamy archdeacon, "that it would be better worth while to operate upon a ray of Sirius. But ’tis exceeding hard to obtain this ray pure, because of the simultaneous presence of other stars whose rays mingle with it. Flamel esteemed it more simple to operate upon terrestrial fire. Flamel! there’s predestination in the name! ~Flamma~! yes, fire. All lies there. The diamond is contained in the carbon, gold is in the fire. But how to extract it? Magistri affirms that there are certain feminine names, which possess a charm so sweet and mysterious, that it suffices to pronounce them during the operation. Let us read what Manon says on the matter: ’Where women are honored, the divinities are rejoiced; where they are despised, it is useless to pray to God. The mouth of a woman is constantly pure; it is a running water, it is a ray of sunlight. The name of a woman should be agreeable, sweet, fanciful; it should end in long vowels, and resemble words of benediction.’ Yes, the sage is right; in truth, Maria, Sophia, la Esmeral--Damnation! always that thought!"

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And he closed the book violently.

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He passed his hand over his brow, as though to brush away the idea which assailed him; then he took from the table a nail and a small hammer, whose handle was curiously painted with cabalistic letters.

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"For some time," he said with a bitter smile, "I have failed in all my experiments! one fixed idea possesses me, and sears my brain like fire. I have not even been able to discover the secret of Cassiodorus, whose lamp burned without wick and without oil. A simple matter, nevertheless--"

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"The deuce!" muttered Jehan in his beard.

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"Hence," continued the priest, "one wretched thought is sufficient to render a man weak and beside himself! Oh! how Claude Pernelle would laugh at me. She who could not turn Nicholas Flamel aside, for one moment, from his pursuit of the great work! What! I hold in my hand the magic hammer of Zéchiélé! at every blow dealt by the formidable rabbi, from the depths of his cell, upon this nail, that one of his enemies whom he had condemned, were he a thousand leagues away, was buried a cubit deep in the earth which swallowed him. The King of France himself, in consequence of once having inconsiderately knocked at the door of the thermaturgist, sank to the knees through the pavement of his own Paris. This took place three centuries ago. Well! I possess the hammer and the nail, and in my hands they are utensils no more formidable than a club in the hands of a maker of edge tools. And yet all that is required is to find the magic word which Zéchiélé pronounced when he struck his nail."

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"What nonsense!" thought Jehan.

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"Let us see, let us try!" resumed the archdeacon briskly. "Were I to succeed, I should behold the blue spark flash from the head of the nail. Emen-Hétan! Emen-Hétan! That’s not it. Sigéani! Sigéani! May this nail open the tomb to any one who bears the name of Phoebus! A curse upon it! Always and eternally the same idea!"

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And he flung away the hammer in a rage. Then he sank down so deeply on the arm-chair and the table, that Jehan lost him from view behind the great pile of manuscripts. For the space of several minutes, all that he saw was his fist convulsively clenched on a book. Suddenly, Dom Claude sprang up, seized a compass and engraved in silence upon the wall in capital letters, this Greek word

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~ANArKH~.

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"My brother is mad," said Jehan to himself; "it would have been far more simple to write ~Fatum~, every one is not obliged to know Greek."

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The archdeacon returned and seated himself in his armchair, and placed his head on both his hands, as a sick man does, whose head is heavy and burning.

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The student watched his brother with surprise. He did not know, he who wore his heart on his sleeve, he who observed only the good old law of Nature in the world, he who allowed his passions to follow their inclinations, and in whom the lake of great emotions was always dry, so freely did he let it off each day by fresh drains,--he did not know with what fury the sea of human passions ferments and boils when all egress is denied to it, how it accumulates, how it swells, how it overflows, how it hollows out the heart; how it breaks in inward sobs, and dull convulsions, until it has rent its dikes and burst its bed. The austere and glacial envelope of Claude Frollo, that cold surface of steep and inaccessible virtue, had always deceived Jehan. The merry scholar had never dreamed that there was boiling lava, furious and profound, beneath the snowy brow of AEtna.

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We do not know whether he suddenly became conscious of these things; but, giddy as he was, he understood that he had seen what he ought not to have seen, that he had just surprised the soul of his elder brother in one of its most secret altitudes, and that Claude must not be allowed to know it. Seeing that the archdeacon had fallen back into his former immobility, he withdrew his head very softly, and made some noise with his feet outside the door, like a person who has just arrived and is giving warning of his approach.

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"Enter!" cried the archdeacon, from the interior of his cell; "I was expecting you. I left the door unlocked expressly; enter Master Jacques!"

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The scholar entered boldly. The archdeacon, who was very much embarrassed by such a visit in such a place, trembled in his arm-chair. "What! ’tis you, Jehan?"

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"Brother," replied the scholar, making an effort to assume a decent, pitiful, and modest mien, and twirling his cap in his hands with an innocent air; "I am come to ask of you--"

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"What?"

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