From above he beheld the vagabonds， filled with triumph and rage， shaking their fists at the gloomy fa？ade； and both on the gypsy's account and his own he envied the wings of the owls which flitted away above his head in flocks.
His shower of stone blocks was not sufficient to repel the assailants.
At this moment of anguish， he noticed， a little lower down than the balustrade whence he was crushing the thieves， two long stone gutters which discharged immediately over the great door； the internal orifice of these gutters terminated on the pavement of the platform. An idea occurred to him； he ran in search of a fagot in his bellringer's den， placed on this fagot a great many bundles of laths， and many rolls of lead， munitions which he had not employed so far， and having arranged this pile in front of the hole to the two gutters， he set it on fire with his lantern.
During this time， since the stones no longer fell， the outcasts ceased to gaze into the air. The bandits， panting like a pack of hounds who are forcing a boar into his lair， pressed tumultuously round the great door， all disfigured by the battering ram， but still standing. They were waiting with a quiver for the great blow which should split it open. They vied with each other in pressing as close as possible， in order to dash among the first， when it should open， into that opulent cathedral， a vast reservoir where the wealth of three centuries had been piled up. They reminded each other with roars of exultation and greedy lust， of the beautiful silver crosses， the fine copes of brocade， the beautiful tombs of silver gilt， the great magnificences of the choir， the dazzling festivals， the Christmasses sparkling with torches， the Easters sparkling with sunshine，--all those splendid solemneties wherein chandeliers， ciboriums， tabernacles， and reliquaries， studded the altars with a crust of gold and diamonds. Certainly， at that fine moment， thieves and pseudo sufferers， doctors in stealing， and vagabonds， were thinking much less of delivering the gypsy than of pillaging Notre-Dame. We could even easily believe that for a goodly number among them la Esmeralda was only a pretext， if thieves needed pretexts.
All at once， at the moment when they were grouping themselves round the ram for a last effort， each one holding his breath and stiffening his muscles in order to communicate all his force to the decisive blow， a howl more frightful still than that which had burst forth and expired beneath the beam， rose among them. Those who did not cry out， those who were still alive， looked. Two streams of melted lead were falling from the summit of the edifice into the thickest of the rabble.
That sea of men had just sunk down beneath the boiling metal， which had made， at the two points where it fell， two black and smoking holes in the crowd， such as hot water would make in snow. Dying men， half consumed and groaning with anguish， could be seen writhing there. Around these two principal streams there were drops of that horrible rain， which scattered over the assailants and entered their skulls like gimlets of fire. It was a heavy fire which overwhelmed these wretches with a thousand hailstones.
The outcry was heartrending. They fled pell-mell， hurling the beam upon the bodies， the boldest as well as the most timid， and the parvis was cleared a second time.
All eyes were raised to the top of the church. They beheld there an extraordinary sight. On the crest of the highest gallery， higher than the central rose window， there was a great flame rising between the two towers with whirlwinds of sparks， a vast， disordered， and furious flame， a tongue of which was borne into the smoke by the wind， from time to time. Below that fire， below the gloomy balustrade with its trefoils showing darkly against its glare， two spouts with monster throats were vomiting forth unceasingly that burning rain， whose silvery stream stood out against the shadows of the lower fa？ade. As they approached the earth， these two jets of liquid lead spread out in sheaves， like water springing from the thousand holes of a watering-pot. Above the flame， the enormous towers， two sides of each of which were visible in sharp outline， the one wholly black， the other wholly red， seemed still more vast with all the immensity of the shadow which they cast even to the sky.
Their innumerable sculptures of demons and dragons assumed a lugubrious aspect. The restless light of the flame made them move to the eye. There were griffins which had the air of laughing， gargoyles which one fancied one heard yelping， salamanders which puffed at the fire， tarasques*which sneezed in the smoke. And among the monsters thus roused from their sleep of stone by this flame， by this noise， there was one who walked about， and who was seen， from time to time， to pass across the glowing face of the pile， like a bat in front of a candle.
* The representation of a monstrous animal solemnly drawn about in Tarascon and other French towns.
Without doubt， this strange beacon light would awaken far away， the woodcutter of the hills of Bicêtre， terrified to behold the gigantic shadow of the towers of Notre-Dame quivering over his heaths.
A terrified silence ensued among the outcasts， during which nothing was heard， but the cries of alarm of the canons shut up in their cloister， and more uneasy than horses in a burning stable， the furtive sound of windows hastily opened and still more hastily closed， the internal hurly-burly of the houses and of the H？tel-Dieu， the wind in the flame， the last death-rattle of the dying， and the continued crackling of the rain of lead upon the pavement.
In the meanwhile， the principal vagabonds had retired beneath the porch of the Gondelaurier mansion， and were holding a council of war.
The Duke of Egypt， seated on a stone post， contemplated the phantasmagorical bonfire， glowing at a height of two hundred feet in the air， with religious terror. Clopin Trouillefou bit his huge fists with rage.
