"The devil!" said the poet, finding at the bottom of his pocket the reality, that is, to say, a void.

In the meantime, the pretty girl stood there, gazing at him with her big eyes, and holding out her tambourine to him and waiting.
Gringoire broke into a violent perspiration.
If he had all Peru in his pocket, he would certainly have given it to the dancer; but Gringoire had not Peru, and, moreover, America had not yet been discovered.
Happily, an unexpected incident came to his rescue.
"Will you take yourself off, you Egyptian grasshopper ?" cried a sharp voice, which proceeded from the darkest corner of the Place.
The young girl turned round in affright.

It was no longer the voice of the bald man; it was the voice of a woman, bigoted and malicious.
However, this cry, which alarmed the gypsy, delighted a troop of children who were prowling about there.
"It is the recluse of the Tour-Roland," they exclaimed, with wild laughter, "it is the sacked nun who is scolding! Hasn't she supped?
Let's carry her the remains of the city refreshments!" All rushed towards the Pillar House.
In the meanwhile, Gringoire had taken advantage of the dancer's embarrassment, to disappear.

The children's shouts had reminded him that he, also, had not supped, so he ran to the public buffet.

But the little rascals had better legs than he; when he arrived, they had stripped the table.