At the expiration of a few moments, Quasimodo cast a desperate glance upon the crowd, and repeated in a voice still more heartrending: “Drink!”
And all began to laugh.
“Drink this!” cried Robin Poussepain, throwing in his face a sponge which had been soaked in the gutter.
“There, you deaf villain, I’m your debtor.”
A woman hurled a stone at his head, —
“That will teach you to wake us up at night with your peal of a dammed soul.”
“He, good, my son!” howled a cripple, making an effort to reach him with his crutch, “will you cast any more spells on us from the top of the towers of Notre-Dame?”