Gringoire, torn from his meditations, began to watch the wild and noisy scene which surrounded him, muttering between his teeth: "~Luxuriosa res vinum et tumultuosa ebrietas~. Alas! what good reason I have not to drink, and how excellently spoke Saint-Benoit: '~Vinum apostatare facit etiam sapientes!'"
At that moment, Clopin returned and shouted in a voice of thunder: "Midnight!"
At this word, which produced the effect of the call to boot and saddle on a regiment at a halt, all the outcasts, men, women, children, rushed in a mass from the tavern, with great noise of arms and old iron implements.
The moon was obscured.
The Cour des Miracles was entirely dark. There was not a single light. One could make out there a throng of men and women conversing in low tones. They could be heard buzzing, and a gleam of all sorts of weapons was visible in the darkness. Clopin mounted a large stone.
"To your ranks, Argot!"* he cried. "Fall into line, Egypt! Form ranks, Galilee!"
* Men of the brotherhood of slang: thieves.
A movement began in the darkness. The immense multitude appeared to form in a column. After a few minutes, the King of Thunes raised his voice once more,-"Now, silence to march through Paris! The password is, 'Little sword in pocket!' The torches will not be lighted till we reach Notre-Dame! Forward, march!"
Ten minutes later, the cavaliers of the watch fled in terror before a long procession of black and silent men which was descending towards the Pont an Change, through the tortuous streets which pierce the close-built neighborhood of the markets in every direction.