This something or, rather, some one was a blind man, a little blind fellow with a bearded, Jewish face, who, rowing away in the space about him with a stick, and towed by a large dog, droned through his nose with a Hungarian accent: "_Facitote caritatem_!" "Well, now," said Gringoire, "here's one at last who speaks a Christian tongue.

I must have a very charitable aspect, since they ask alms of me in the present lean condition of my purse.

My friend," and he turned towards the blind man, "I sold my last shirt last week; that is to say, since you understand only the language of Cicero: _Vendidi hebdomade nuper transita meam ultimam chemisan_." That said, he turned his back upon the blind man, and pursued his way.
But the blind man began to increase his stride at the same time; and, behold! the cripple and the legless man, in his bowl, came up on their side in great haste, and with great clamor of bowl and crutches, upon the pavement.

Then all three, jostling each other at poor Gringoire's heels, began to sing their song to him,-- "_Caritatem_!" chanted the blind man.
"_La buona mancia_!" chanted the cripple in the bowl.
And the lame man took up the musical phrase by repeating: "_Un pedaso de pan_!" Gringoire stopped up his ears.

"Oh, tower of Babel!" he exclaimed.
He set out to run.