The poor "cricket" stopped short. Gringoire covered up his ears.
"Oh！" he exclaimed， "accursed saw with missing teeth， which comes to break the lyre！"Meanwhile， the other spectators murmured like himself；"To the devil with the sacked nun！" said some of them.
And the old invisible kill-joy might have had occasion to repent of her aggressions against the gypsy had their attention not been diverted at this moment by the procession of the Pope of the Fools， which， after having traversed many streets and squares， debouched on the Place de Grève， with all its torches and all its uproar.
This procession， which our readers have seen set out from the Palais de Justice， had organized on the way， and had been recruited by all the knaves， idle thieves， and unemployed vagabonds in Paris； so that it presented a very respectable aspect when it arrived at the Grève.
First came Egypt. The Duke of Egypt headed it， on horseback， with his counts on foot holding his bridle and stirrups for him； behind them， the male and female Egyptians， pell-mell， with their little children crying on their shoulders；all--duke， counts， and populace--in rags and tatters. Then came the Kingdom of Argot； that is to say， all the thieves of France， arranged according to the order of their dignity； the minor people walking first. Thus defiled by fours， with the divers insignia of their grades， in that strange faculty， most of them lame， some cripples， others one-armed， shop clerks， pilgrim， ~hubins~， bootblacks， thimble-riggers， street arabs， beggars， the blear-eyed beggars， thieves， the weakly， vagabonds， merchants， sham soldiers， goldsmiths， passed masters of pickpockets， isolated thieves. A catalogue that would weary Homer. In the centre of the conclave of the passed masters of pickpockets， one had some difficulty in distinguishing the King of Argot， the grand co？sre， so called， crouching in a little cart drawn by two big dogs. After the kingdom of the Argotiers， came the Empire of Galilee. Guillaume Rousseau， Emperor of the Empire of Galilee， marched majestically in his robe of purple， spotted with wine， preceded by buffoons wrestling and executing military dances； surrounded by his macebearers， his pickpockets and clerks of the chamber of accounts. Last of all came the corporation of law clerks， with its maypoles crowned with flowers， its black robes， its music worthy of the orgy， and its large candles of yellow wax. In the centre of this crowd， the grand officers of the Brotherhood of Fools bore on their shoulders a litter more loaded down with candles than the reliquary of Sainte-Geneviève in time of pest； and on this litter shone resplendent， with crosier， cope， and mitre， the new Pope of the Fools， the bellringer of Notre-Dame， Quasimodo the hunchback.
Each section of this grotesque procession had its own music.
The Egyptians made their drums and African tambourines resound. The slang men， not a very musical race， still clung to the goat's horn trumpet and the Gothic rubebbe of the twelfth century. The Empire of Galilee was not much more advanced； among its music one could hardly distinguish some miserable rebec， from the infancy of the art， still imprisoned in the ~re-la-mi~. But it was around the Pope of the Fools that all the musical riches of the epoch were displayed in a magnificent discord. It was nothing but soprano rebecs， counter-tenor rebecs， and tenor rebecs， not to reckon the flutes and brass instruments. Alas！ our readers will remember that this was Gringoire's orchestra.
