which, translated freely into English, would mean:—
"I find this fine."
And, from that day to this, the country above the City of Orleans, in France, has been called La Beauce.
[CHAPTER IX.]
THE PARISIANS LAUGH AT GARGANTUA.—HE TAKES HIS REVENGE BY STEALING THE GREAT BELLS OF NÔTRE-DÂME.
The first thing Gargantua did, on reaching Paris, was to make a resolve that he and his people should have a gay time. Some days after, when they had all rested well and had feasted until they were full of good eating and drinking, Gargantua started on a stroll through the town to find what was to be seen. The Paris Gargantua saw was not the Paris of to-day,—not nearly so mighty a city as it has since become. But its people then were every bit as fond of merry-making and of seeing shows as they are now. One who lived in those days, and who boasted that he knew the Parisians better than they did themselves, says that they were so silly and so stupid by nature that it only took a rope-dancer, dancing on his rope, or a Merry-Andrew playing at his tricks, or a bawler of old scraps, or a blind fiddler, or a hurdy-gurdy in the market-place, to appear, to draw a bigger crowd than the holiest and most eloquent preacher. Now, a Giant like Gargantua was himself such a show as the people of Paris had never before set their silly eyes on. Of course they swarmed around him with staring eyes and open mouths, pushing against him here, and knocking against him there, in their strong desire to see as much of him as they could. They troubled him almost as much as the flies and hornets of La Beauce had troubled his mare. Some, bolder than the rest, even ran in and out between his legs as he strode along the street. At first, Gargantua took the crowd good-naturedly enough. By and by, he began to think that all this squeezing and tickling were getting just a little tiresome. He looked around in a helpless sort of way, until, by good luck, his eyes fell on the tall towers of Nôtre Dâme Cathedral, near by. "Ha! ha! that's the very place for me," he cried, and, without further ado, resting one hand on the top of the roof to steady himself, he went whizzing with a great leap past the statues of Adam and Eve, that looked wonderingly out from their stony niches. The idle crowd was afraid to follow Gargantua; but it stood packed up close together in the open space which surrounded the old church, gazing at him as he went through the air, and wondering all the time what the Giant was going to do with their famous towers. It was not long before they found out. No sooner was he on the roof than Gargantua caught sight of the great tanks filled with water which were then to be found there. Chuckling to himself, he cried: "Now for some fun! I shall pledge this good people of Paris in a glass of wine." Up he caught one of the tanks, poised it for a moment in the air, and then shouting out: "To your health, good folks!" tipped it just a bit. Down poured its water in a full stream. Then he threw the tank after it. Quick, before one could think or breathe, the others followed. So sudden was the down-pour of water that the people thought a tremendous water-spout, in passing over their city, had burst upon them. Two hundred and sixty thousand, four hundred and eighteen persons were drowned on that day by the water, or crushed by the tanks, or killed by being run over by those seeking to escape. Those who were lucky got away as fast as they could. In less than three minutes the square was empty, for the water, as it rolled out into the streets, washed all the dead away.
GARGANTUA ENTERS PARIS.