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The orgy grew iven but a very imperfect idea of it Let the reader picture to himself in bacchanal forer either scholars or aer any Clopin Trouillefou, nor Gilles Lecornu, nor Marie Quatrelivres, nor Robin Poussepain All was universal license The grand hall was no longer anything but a vast furnace of effrontry and joviality, where everyshouted and howled The strange visages which canash their teeth in the rose ere like so many brands cast into the brazier; and fro crowd, there escaped, as fro like the wings of a gnat

"Ho hé! curse it!"

"Just look at that face!"

"It's not good for anything"

"Guilleerepuis, just look at that bull's muzzle; it only lacks the horns It can't be your husband"

"Another!"

"Belly of the pope! what sort of a gri One must show only one's face"

"That damned Perrette Callebotte! she's capable of that!"

"Good! Good!"

"I'h!" Etc, etc

But we must do justice to our friend Jehan In the midst of this witches' sabbath, he was still to be seen on the top of his pillar, like the cabin-boy on the topmast He floundered about with incredible fury His mouth ide open, and from it there escaped a cry which no one heard, not that it was covered by the general clareat as that was but because it attained, no doubt, the limit of perceptible sharp sounds, the thousand vibrations of Sauveur, or the eight thousand of Biot

As for Gringoire, the first ained his coainst adversity---"Continue!" he had said for the third ti reat strides in front of the o and appear in his turn at the aperture of the chapel, were it only for the pleasure of rateful populace--"But no, that would not be worthy of us; no, vengeance! let us combat until the end," he repeated to hi therimaces or polite literature"

Alas! he had been left the sole spectator of his piece It was far worse than it had been a little while before He no longer beheld anything but backs