an once the laundress of the Terrain
charged "with washing the chapter" had observed, not without affright,
the marks of nails and clenched fingers on the surplice of monsieur the
archdeacon of Josas.

However, he redoubled his severity, and had never been more exemplary.
By profession as well as by character, he had always held himself aloof
from women; he seemed to hate them more than ever. The mere rustling
of a silken petticoat caused his hood to fall over his eyes. Upon this
score he was so jealous of austerity and reserve, that when the Dame de
Beaujeu, the king's daughter, came to visit the cloister of Notre-Dame,
in the month of December, 1481, he gravely opposed her entrance,
reminding the bishop of the statute of the Black Book, dating from the
vigil of Saint-Barthelemy, 1334, which interdicts access to the cloister
to "any woman whatever, old or young, mistress or maid." Upon which the
bishop had been constrained to recite to him the ordinance of Legate
Odo, which excepts certain great dames, _aliquoe magnates mulieres,
quoe sine scandalo vitari non possunt_. And again the archdeacon had
protested, objecting that the ordinance of the legate, which dated back
to 1207, was anterior by a hundred and twenty-seven years to the Black
Book, and consequently was abrogated in fact by it. And he had refused
to appear before the princess.

It was also noticed that his horror for Bohemian women and gypsies had
seemed to redouble for some time past. He had petitioned the bishop for
an edict which expressly forbade the Bohemian women to come and dance
and beat their tambourines on the place of the Parvis; and for about the
same length of time, he had been ransacking the mouldy placards of
the officialty, in order to collect the cases of sorcerers and witches
condemned to fire or the rope, for complicity in crimes with rams, sows,
or goats.

CHAPTER VI. UNPOPULARITY.

The archdeacon and the bellringer, as we have already said, were but
little loved by the populace great and small, in the vicinity of the
cathedral. When Claude and Quasimodo went out together, which frequently
happened, and when they were seen traversing in company, the valet
behind the master, the cold, narrow, and gloomy streets of the block of
Notre-Dame, more than one evil word, more than one ironical quaver, more
than one insulting jest greeted them on their way, unless Claude Frollo,
which was rarely the case, walked with head upright and