This outburst over，he returned to his seat，and went on in a voice of cold and concentrated rage：'Hither，Tristan.We have with us in this Bastille fifty lances of the Vicomte de Gif，which makes three hundred horses；you will take them.There is also a company of the archers of our bodyguard，under Monsieur de Chateaupers；you will take them.You are provost-marshal，and have the men of your provostry；you will take them.At the Htel Saint-Pol you will find forty archers of the new guard of Monsieur the Dauphin；take them，and with all these you will speed to Notre-Dame.Ah，messieurs，the commons of Paris，do you fly thus in the face of the crown of France，of the sanctity of Notre-Dame，and the peace of this commonwealth！Exterminate，Tristan！exterminate！and let not one escape for Montfaucon！'
Tristan bowed.'Very good，Sire！And what am I to do with the witch？'he added after a moment's pause.
This question gave the King food for reflection.'Ah，to be sure，'said he，'the witch？M.d'Estouteville，what did the people want to do with her？'
'Sire，'answered the Provost of Paris，'I imagine，that as the people were come to drag her out of sanctuary in Notre-Dame，it is her impunity that offends them，and that they desire to hang her.'
The King appeared to reflect profoundly；then，addressing himself to Tristan l'Hermite：
'Very well，Compére；exterminate the people and hang the witch.'
'In other words，'whispered Rym to Coppenole，'punish the people for wanting to do a thing，and then do it yourself！'
'Very good，Sire，'returned Tristan.'And if the witch is still inside the Cathedral，are we to disregard the sanctuary and take her away？'
'Pasque-Dieu！the sanctuary，'said the King，scratching his ear；'and yet the woman must be hanged.'
Then，as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him，he fell on his knees before his chair，took off his hat，laid it on the seat，and gazing devoutly at one of the little lead images with which it was encircled：'Oh！'he cried，clasping his hands，'Our Lady of Paris，my gracious patroness，give me pardon，I will do it only this once.This criminal must be punished.I do assure you，Madame the Virgin，my good mistress，that it is a sorceress，unworthy of your kind protection.You know，Madame，that many very devout princes have trespassed on the privileges of the Church for the glory of God and the necessity of the state.Saint-Hugh，Bishop of England，permitted King Edward to seize a magician in his church.My master，Saint-Louis of France，transgressed for the like purpose in the Church of Saint-Paul，and Monsieur Alphonse，son of the King of Jerusalem，in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself.Pardon me，then，for this once，Our Lady of Paris！I will never again transgress in this manner，and I will give you a fair statue of silver，like that I gave last year to Our Lady of ècouys.So be it！'
He made the sign of the cross，rose to his feet，replaced his hat，and turned to Tristan.'Make all speed，Compére.Take M.de Chateaupers with you.You will sound the tocsin，crush the people，hang the witch—that is all.You will defray all the charges of the execution and bring me the account.Come，Olivier，I shall not go to bed to-night.Shave me.'
Tristan l'Hermite bowed and left.The King then dismissed Rym and Coppenole with a wave of the hand.'God keep you，my good Flemish friends.Go and take a little rest.The night is far advanced，and we are nearer the morning than the evening.'
They both withdrew.On reaching their apartments under the escort of the captain of the Bastille，Coppenole remarked to Rym，'Hum！I've had enough of this coughing King.I have seen Charles of Burgundy drunk，but he was not near so wicked as Louis XI sick.'
'M re Jacques，'returned Rym，'that is because kings are not half so bloodthirsty in their wine as in their medicine-cups.'
1 Without steward or cup-bearer.
2 Pulse rapid，full，jerking，irregular.
Chapter 6-The Pass-Word
On quitting the Bastille，Gringoire fled down the Rue Saint-Antoine with the speed of a runaway horse.Arrived at the Baudoyer Gate，he made straight for the stone cross in the middle of the square as if he discerned in the dark the figure of a man，clothed and hooded in black，sitting upon its steps.
'Is that you，master？'said Gringoire.
The figure rose.'Death and hell！you drive me mad，Gringoire.The watch on the tower of Saint-Gervais has just called the half after one.'
'It is no fault of mine，'returned Gringoire，'but of the watch and the King.I've had a narrow escape.I always miss being hanged within an ace.It is my predestination.'
'You miss everything，'retorted the other.'But come quickly now.Hast thou the pass-word？'
'Only think，master，I have seen the King.I've just left him.He wears worsted breeches.It was an adventure，I can tell you！'
