And without adding another word

 he emptied the purse on a neighboring post, with the air of a Roman saving his country.

"True God!" muttered phoebus Jingling the change in his hand he shook his head, "targes, big-blanks, little blanks, mailles,* every two worth one of Tournay, farthings of paris, real eagle liards!'Tis dazzling!"

*An ancient copper coin, the forty-fourth part of a sou or the twelfth part of a farthing.

Jehan remained dignified and immovable.Several liards had rolled into the mud; the captain in his enthusiasm stooped to pick them up.Jehan restrained him.

"Fye, Captain phoebus de Chateaupers!"

phoebus counted the coins, and turning towards Jehan with solemnity, "Do you know, Jehan, that there are three and twenty sous parisis! whom have you plundered to-night, in the Street Cut-Weazand?"

Jehan flung back his blonde and curly head, and said, half- closing his eyes disdainfully,--

"We have a brother who is an archdeacon and a fool."

"~Corne de Dieu~!" exclaimed phoebus, "the worthy man!"

"Let us go and drink," said Jehan.

"Where shall we go?" said phoebus; "'To Eve's Apple.'"

"No, captain, to 'Ancient Science.'An old woman sawing a basket handle*; 'tis a rebus, and I like that."

* ~Une vielle qui scie une anse~.

"A plague on rebuses, Jehan! the wine is better at 'Eve's Apple'; and then, beside the door there is a vine in the sun which cheers me while I am drinking."

"Well! here goes for Eve and her apple," said the student, and taking phoebus's arm."By the way, my dear captain, you just mentioned the Rue Coupe-Gueule* That is a very bad form of speech; people are no longer so barbarous.They say, Coupe-Gorge**."

*Cut-Weazand Street.

** Cut-Throat Street.

The two friends set out towards "Eve's Apple."It is unnecessary to mention that they had first gathered up the money, and that the archdeacon followed them.

The archdeacon followed them, gloomy and haggard.Was this the phoebus whose accursed name had been mingled with all his thoughts ever since his interview with Gringoire?He did not know it, but it was at least a phoebus, and that magic name sufficed to make the archdeacon follow the two heedless comrades with the stealthy tread of a wolf, listening to their words and observing their slightest gestures with anxious attention.Moreover, nothing was easier than to hear everything they said, as they talked loudly, not in the least concerned that the passers-by were taken into their confidence.They talked of duels, wenches, wine pots, and folly.