e rouge, and the huge red beard, each of which covered one-half of
his face,--had it not been for the roll of gilded cardboard, spangled,
and all bristling with strips of tinsel, which he held in his hand, and
in which the eyes of the initiated easily recognized thunderbolts,--had
not his feet been flesh-colored, and banded with ribbons in Greek
fashion, he might have borne comparison, so far as the severity of his
mien was concerned, with a Breton archer from the guard of Monsieur de
Berry.

CHAPTER II. PIERRE GRINGOIRE.

Nevertheless, as be 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