The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Victor Hugo [168]
Night had now fallen. The candles, whose number had not been increased, cast so little light that the walls of the court-room could not be seen. Shadows wrapped everything in a sort of mist. The apathetic faces of some of the judges could just be distinguished in the gloom. Opposite them, at the extreme end of the long hall, they could make out a vague white patch against the dark background. It was the prisoner.
She had dragged herself painfully to her place. When Charmolue had magisterially installed himself in his, he sat down, then rose, and said, without too great a show of vanity at his success, “The prisoner has confessed everything.”
“Gipsy girl,” began the president, “have you confessed all your crimes of sorcery, prostitution, and murder committed upon Phœbus de Châteaupers?”
Her heart sank within her, and she sobbed aloud in the darkness.
“Whatever you please,” she replied feebly; “but kill me quickly!”
“Sir Proxy to the Ecclesiastical Court,” said the president, “the court is ready to hear your requisitions.”
Master Charmolue drew forth a tremendous bundle of papers, and began to read, with many gestures, and the exaggerated emphasis common to lawyers, a Latin speech, in which all the evidence produced during the trial was set forth in Ciceronian periphrases, flanked by quotations from Plautus, his favorite comic author. We regret that we cannot present our readers with this remarkable piece of oratory. The speaker delivered it with wonderful effect. Long before he had ended the exordium, the perspiration poured down his face, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.
All at once, in the very middle of a period, he paused, and his glance, usually mild enough and even stupid, became withering.
“Gentlemen,” he exclaimed (but in French, for this was not set down in his manuscript), “Satan plays so large a part in this affair, that yonder he stands, listening to our discussions and making a mock of their majesty. Behold!”
As he spoke, he pointed to the little goat, which, seeing Charmolue gesticulate, sincerely thought that it was but right for her to do the same, and sitting up on her haunches, was imitating to the best of her ability, with her fore-feet and her bearded head, the pathetic pantomime of the king’s proxy. This was, it may be remembered, one of her best tricks. This incident—this final proof-produced a great effect. The goat’s feet were tied together, and the king’s proxy resumed the thread of his eloquence.
His speech was very long, but the peroration was admirable. We give the concluding phrase; the reader may imagine Master Charmolue’s hoarse voice and frantic gestures:—
“Ideo, Domni, coram stryga demonstrata, crimine patente, intentione criminis existente, in nomine sanctæ ecclesiæ Nostrœ-Dominæ Parisiensis, quœ est in saisina habendi omni-modam altam et bassam justitiam in illa hac intemerata Civitatis insula, tenore præsentium declaramus nos requirere, primo, aliguandam pecuniariam indemnitatem; secundo, amendationem honorabilem ante portalium maximum Nostræ-Dominæ, ecclesiœ cathedralis; tertio, sententiam in virtute cujus ista stryga cum sua capella, seu in trivio vulgariter dicto the Grève, seu in insula exeunte in fluvio se cancœ, juxta pointam jardini regalis, executatœ sint!”‘cz
He put on his cap and sat down.
“Eheu!” said the agonized Gringoire; “bassa latinitas!”da
Another man in a black gown, near the prisoner, rose. This was her lawyer. The judges, being hungry, began to murmur.
“Be brief, Sir Lawyer,” said the president.
“Mr. President,” replied the lawyer, “the defendant having confessed her crime, I have but a few words to say to the bench. It is laid down in the Salic law that ‘If a witch have devoured a man, and she be convicted of the crime, she shall pay a fine of eight thousand farthings, which make two hundred pence in gold.’ May it please the court to sentence my client to pay this fine.”
“That law is obsolete,” said