hand upon him and gave him his benediction with all the
unction of which he was capable.
“Now,” said Gondy, “there is a communion between us. I have
blessed you and you are sacred to me. Come, have you
committed some crime, pursued by human justice, from which I
can protect you?”
The beggar shook his head. “The crime which I have
committed, my lord, has no call upon human justice, and you
can only deliver me from it by blessing me frequently, as
you have just done.”
“Come, be candid,” said the coadjutor, “you have not all
your life followed the trade which you do now?”
“No, my lord. I have pursued it for six years only.”
“And previously, where were you?”
“In the Bastile.”
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“And before you went to the Bastile?”
“I will tell you, my lord, on the day when you are willing
to hear my confession.”
“Good! At whatsoever hour of the day or night you may
present yourself, remember that I shall be ready to give you
absolution.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said the mendicant in a hoarse voice.
“But I am not yet ready to receive it.”
“Very well. Adieu.”
“Adieu, your holiness,” said the mendicant, opening the door
and bending low before the prelate.
47
The Riot.
It was about eleven o’clock at night. Gondy had not walked a
hundred steps ere he perceived the strange change which had
been made in the streets of Paris.
The whole city seemed peopled with fantastic beings; silent
shadows were seen unpaving the streets and others dragging
and upsetting great wagons, whilst others again dug ditches
large enough to ingulf whole regiments of horsemen. These
active beings flitted here and there like so many demons
completing some unknown labor; these were the beggars of the
Court of Miracles — the agents of the giver of holy water
in the Square of Saint Eustache, preparing barricades for
the morrow.
Gondy gazed on these deeds of darkness, on these nocturnal
laborers, with a kind of fear; he asked himself, if, after
having called forth these foul creatures from their dens, he
should have the power of making them retire again. He felt
almost inclined to cross himself when one of these beings
happened to approach him. He reached the Rue Saint Honore
and went up it toward the Rue de la Ferronnerie; there the
aspect changed; here it was the tradesmen who were running
from shop to shop; their doors seemed closed like their
shutters, but they were only pushed to in such a manner as
to open and allow the men, who seemed fearful of showing
what they carried, to enter, closing immediately. These men
were shopkeepers, who had arms to lend to those who had
none.
One individual went from door to door, bending under the
weight of swords, guns, muskets and every kind of weapon,
which he deposited as fast as he could. By the light of a
lantern the coadjutor recognized Planchet.
The coadjutor proceeded onward to the quay by way of the Rue
de la Monnaie; there he found groups of bourgeois clad in
black cloaks or gray, according as they belonged to the
upper or lower bourgeoisie. They were standing motionless,
while single men passed from one group to another. All these
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cloaks, gray or black, were raised behind by the point of a
sword, or before by the barrel of an arquebuse or a musket.
On reaching the Pont Neuf the coadjutor found it strictly
guarded and a man approached him.
“Who are you?” asked the man. “I do not know you for one of
us.”
“Then it is because you do not know your friends, my dear
Monsieur Louvieres,” said the coadjutor, raising his hat.
Louvieres recognized him and bowed.
Gondy continued his way and went as far as the Tour de
Nesle. There he saw a lengthy chain of people gliding under
the walls. They might be said to be a procession of ghosts,
for they were all wrapped in white cloaks. When they reached
a certain spot these men appeared to be annihilated, one