第49章 BOOK Ⅲ(10)

From the tower on which we have taken up our stand，one obtained of the Htel Saint-Pol，though half-hidden by the four great mansions we spoke of，a very considerable and wonderful view.You could clearly distinguish in it，though skilfully welded to the main building by windowed and pillared galleries，the three mansions which Charles V had absorbed into his palace：the Htel du Petit-Muce with the fretted parapet that gracefully bordered its roof；the Htel of the Abbot of Saint-Maur，having all the appearance of a fortress，with its massive tower，its machicolations，loopholes，iron bulwarks，and over the great Saxon gate，between the two grooves for the drawbridge，the escutcheon of the Abbot；the Htel of the Comte d'ètampes，of which the keep，ruined at its summit，was arched and notched like a cock's-comb；here and there，three or four ancient oaks grouped together in one great bushy clump；a glimpse of swans floating on clear pools，all flecked with light and shadow；picturesque corners of innumerable court-yards；the Lion house，with its low Gothic arches on short Roman pillars，its iron bars and continuous roaring；cutting right through this picture the scaly spire of the Ave-Maria Chapel；on the left，the left，the Mansion of the Provost of Paris，flanked by four delicately perforated turrets；and，in the centre of it all，the Htel Saint-Pol itself，with its multiplicity of facades，its successive enrichments since the time of Charles V，the heterogeneous excrescences with which the fancy of the architects had loaded it during two centuries，with all the roofs of its chapels，all its gables，its galleries，a thousand weather-cocks turning to the four winds of heaven，and its two lofty，contiguous towers with conical roofs surrounded by battlements at the base，looking like peaked hats with the brim turned up.

Continuing to mount the steps of this amphitheatre of palaces，rising tier upon tier in the distance，having crossed the deep fissure in the roofs of the Town which marked the course of the Rue Saint-Antoine，the eye travelled on to the Logis d'Angoulême，a vast structure of several periods，parts of which were glaringly new and white，blending with the rest about as well as a crimson patch on a blue doublet.Nevertheless，the peculiarly sharp and high-pitched roof of the modern palace—bristling with sculptured gargoyles，and covered with sheets of lead，over which ran sparkling incrustations of gilded copper in a thousand fantastic arabesques—this curiously damascened roof rose gracefully out of the brown ruins of the ancient edifice，whose massive old towers，bulging cask-like with age，sinking into themselves with decrepitude，and rent from top to bottom，looked like great unbuttoned waistcoats.Behind rose the forest of spires of the Palais des Tournelles.No show-place in the world—not even Chambord or the Alhambra—could afford a more magical，more ethereal，more enchanting spectacle than this grove of spires，bell-towers，chimneys，weather-cocks，spiral stair-cases；of airy lantern towers that seemed to have been worked with a chisel；of pavilions；of spindle-shaped turrets，all diverse in shape，height，and position.It might have been a gigantic chess-board in stone.

That sheaf of enormous black towers to the right of the inky Tournelles，pressing one against the other，and bound together，as it were，by a circular moat；that donjon-keep，pierced far more numerously with shot-holes than with windows，its drawbridge always raised，its portcullis always lowered—that is the Bastile.Those objects like black beaks projecting from the embrasures of the battlements，and which，from a distance，you might take for rain-spouts，are cannon.Within their range，at the foot of the formidable pile，is the Porte Saint-Antoine，crouching between its two towers.

Beyond the Tournelles，reaching to the wall of Charles V，stretched in rich diversity of lawns and flower-beds a velvet carpet of gardens and royal parks，in the heart of which，conspicuous by its maze of trees and winding paths，one recognised the famous labyrinthine garden presented by Louis XI to Coictier.The great physician's observatory rose out of the maze like a massive，isolated column with a tiny house for its capital.Many a terrible astrological crime was perpetrated in that laboratory.This is now the Place Royale.