Читать книгу Собор Парижской богоматери / Notre-Dame de Paris - Виктор Мари Гюго, Clara Inés Bravo Villarreal - Страница 2

On the sixth of January, 1482, the Parisians awoke to the sound of the bells.

What put the whole population of Paris in commotion, were the two events happening at once: the Epiphany and the Feast of Fools.

On that day, there was to be a bonfire on the Place de Grève, a maypole at the Chapelle de Braque, and a mystery at the Palais de Justice. So the citizens, male and female, having closed their houses and shops, walked from every direction, towards one of the three spots designated.

The people knew knew that the Flemish ambassadors, who had arrived two days previously, intended to be present at the representation of the mystery, and at the election of the Pope of the Fools, which was also to take place in the grand hall. So it was no easy matter on that day, to force one’s way into that grand hall. Thousands of faces were at the windows, the doors, the dormer windows, the roofs, gazing at the palace, gazing at the populace, and asking nothing more; for many Parisians that was enough.

The piece was only to begin at midday. It was very late, no doubt, for a theatrical representation, but it was necessary to suit the convenience of the ambassadors.

Now, the crowd had been waiting since morning. People had been shivering since daybreak before the grand staircase of the palace; some even spent the night across the threshold of the great door, in order to make sure that they were the first to go in. The crowd grew more dense every moment. People were impatient and weary.

Midday sounded.

Each person arranged himself and assumed his post. Then came a great silence; all necks remained outstretched, all mouths remained open, all glances were directed towards the marble table in the middle. Nothing made its appearance there. All eyes turned to the places reserved for the Flemish envoys. The door remained closed, the platform empty. No one had arrived on time.

On this occasion, it was too much.

They waited one, two, three, five minutes, a quarter of an hour; nothing came. The impatience turned to wrath. “The mystery! The mystery!” they murmured, in hollow voices. Just when the crowd’s impatience was about to turn violent, the tapestry of the dressing-room was raised, and a person stepped in. The mere sight of him suddenly stopped the crowd, and changed its wrath into curiosity.

“Silence! silence!”

The person advanced to the edge of the marble table with a vast amount of bows.

Tranquillity had gradually been restored.

“Messieurs and Mesdemoiselles, we shall have the honor of declaiming and representing, before his eminence, the cardinal, a very beautiful morality which has for its title, ‘The Good Judgment of Madame the Virgin Mary.’ I am to play Jupiter. His eminence is, at this moment, escorting the very honorable embassy of the Duke of Austria; which is detained, at present, listening to the rector of the university, at the gate Baudets. As soon as the cardinal arrives, we will begin.”