Claude Frollo (for we presume that the reader, more intelligent thanPhoebus, has seen in this whole adventure no other surly monk than thearchdeacon), Claude Frollo groped about for several moments in the darklair into which the captain had bolted him. It was one of those nookswhich architects sometimes reserve at the point of junction betweenthe roof and the supporting wall. A vertical section of this kennel, asPhoebus had so justly styled it, would have made a triangle. Moreover,there was neither window nor air-hole, and the slope of the roofprevented one from standing upright. Accordingly, Claude crouched downin the dust, and the plaster which cracked beneath him; his head was onfire; rummaging around him with his hands, he found on the floor abit of broken glass, which he pressed to his brow, and whose cool-nessafforded him some relief.
What was taking place at that moment in the gloomy soul of thearchdeacon? God and himself could alone know.
In what order was he arranging in his mind la Esmeralda, Phoebus,Jacques Charmolue, his young brother so beloved, yet abandoned by him inthe mire, his archdeacon's cassock, his reputation perhaps dragged to laFalourdel's, all these adventures, all these images? I cannot say. Butit is certain that these ideas formed in his mind a horrible group.
He had been waiting a quarter of an hour; it seemed to him that he hadgrown a century older. All at once he heard the creaking of the boardsof the stairway; some one was ascending. The trapdoor opened once more;a light reappeared. There was a tolerably large crack in the worm-eatendoor of his den; he put his face to it. In this manner he could seeall that went on in the adjoining room. The cat-faced old crone was thefirst to emerge from the trap-door, lamp in hand; then Phoebus, twirlinghis moustache, then a third person, that beautiful and graceful figure,la Esmeralda. The priest beheld her rise from below like a dazzlingapparition. Claude trembled, a cloud spread over his eyes, his pulsesbeat violently, everything rustled and whirled around him; he no longersaw nor heard anything.
When he recovered himself, Phoebus and Esmeralda were alone seated onthe wooden coffer beside the lamp which made these two youthful figuresand a miserable pallet at the end of the attic stand out plainly beforethe archdeacon's eyes.
Beside the pallet was a window, whose panes broken like a spider's webupon which rain has fallen, allowed a view, through its rent meshes, ofa corner of the sky, and the moon lying far away on an eiderdown bed ofsoft clouds.
The young girl was blushing, confused, palpitating. Her long, droopinglashes shaded her crimson cheeks. The officer, to whom she darednot lift her eyes, was radiant. Mechanically, and with a charminglyunconscious gesture, she traced with the tip of her finger incoherentlines on the bench, and watched her finger. Her foot was not visible.The little goat was nestling upon it.
The captain was very gallantly clad; he had tufts of embroidery at hisneck and wrists; a great elegance at that day.
It was not without difficulty that Dom Claude managed to hear what theywere saying, through the humming of the blood, which was boiling in histemples.
(A conversation between lovers is a very commonplace affair. It is aperpetual "I love you." A musical phrase which is very insipid and verybald for indifferent listeners, when it is not ornamented with some_fioriture_; but Claude was not an indifferent listener.)
"Oh!" said the young girl, without raising her eyes, "do not despise me,monseigneur Phoebus. I feel that what I am doing is not right."
"Despise you, my pretty child!" replied the officer with an air ofsuperior and distinguished gallantry, "despise you, _tete-Dieu_! andwhy?"
"For having followed you!"
"On that point, my beauty, we don't agree. I ought not to despise you,but to hate you."
The young girl looked at him in affright: "Hate me! what have I done?"
"For having required so much urging."
"Alas!" said she, "'tis because I am breaking a vow. I shall not find myparents! The amulet will lose its virtue. But what matters it? What needhave I of father or mother now?"
So saying, she fixed upon the captain her great black eyes, moist withjoy and tenderness.
"Devil take me if I understand you!" exclaimed Phoebus. La Esmeraldaremained silent for a moment, then a tear dropped from her eyes, a sighfrom her lips, and she said,--"Oh! monseigneur, I love you."
Such a perfume of chastity, such a charm of virtue surrounded the younggirl, that Phoebus did not feel completely at his ease beside her. Butthis remark emboldened him: "You love me!" he said with rapture, and hethrew his arm round the gypsy's waist. He had only been waiting for thisopportunity.
The priest saw it, and tested with the tip of his finger the point of aponiard which he wore concealed in his breast.
"Phoebus," continued the Bohemian, gently releasing her waist from thecaptain's tenacious hands, "You are good, you are generous, you arehandsome; you saved me, me who am only a poor child lost in Bohemia. Ihad long been dreaming of an officer who should save my life. 'Twas ofyou that I was dreaming, before I knew you, my Phoebus; the officer ofmy dream had a beautiful uniform like yours, a grand look, a sword; yourname is Phoebus; 'tis a beautiful name. I love your name; I love yoursword. Draw your sword, Phoebus, that I may see it."
"Child!" said the captain, and he unsheathed his sword with a smile.
The gypsy looked at the hilt, the blade; examined the cipher on theguard with adorable curiosity, and kissed the sword, saying,--
"You are the sword of a brave man. I love my captain." Phoebus againprofited by the opportunity to impress upon her beautiful bent neck akiss which made the young girl straighten herself up as scarlet as apoppy. The priest gnashed his teeth over it in the dark.
"Phoebus," resumed the gypsy, "let me talk to you. Pray walk a little,that I may see you at full height, and that I may hear your spursjingle. How handsome you are!"
The captain rose to please her, chiding her with a smile ofsatisfaction,--
"What a child you are! By the way, my charmer, have you seen me in myarcher's ceremonial doublet?"
"Alas! no," she replied.
"It is very handsome!"
Phoebus returned and seated himself beside her, but much closer thanbefore.
"Listen, my dear--"
The gypsy gave him several little taps with her pretty hand on hismouth, with a childish mirth and grace and gayety.
"No, no, I will not listen to you. Do you love me? I want you to tell mewhether you love me."
"Do I love thee, angel of my life!" exclaimed the captain, halfkneeling. "My body, my blood, my soul, all are thine; all are for thee.I love thee, and I have never loved any one but thee."
The captain had repeated this phrase so many times, in many similarconjunctures, that he delivered it all in one breath, without committinga single mistake. At this passionate declaration, the gypsy raised tothe dirty ceiling which served for the skies a glance full of angelichappiness.
"Oh!" she murmured, "this is the moment when one should die!"
Phoebus found "the moment" favorable for robbing her of another kiss,which went to torture the unhappy archdeacon in his nook. "Die!"exclaimed the amorous captain, "What are you saying, my lovely angel?'Tis a time for living, or Jupiter is only a scamp! Die at the beginningof so sweet a thing! _Corne-de-boeuf_, what a jest! It is not that.Listen, my dear Similar, Esmenarda--Pardon! you have so prodigiouslySaracen a name that I never can get it straight. 'Tis a thicket whichstops me short."
"Good heavens!" said the poor girl, "and I thought my name prettybecause of its singularity! But since it displeases you, I would that Iwere called Goton."
"Ah! do not weep for such a trifle, my graceful maid! 'tis a name towhich one must get accustomed, that is all. When I once know it byheart, all will go smoothly. Listen then, my dear Similar; I adore youpassionately. I love you so that 'tis simply miraculous. I know a girlwho is bursting with rage over it--"
The jealous girl interrupted him: "Who?"
"What matters that to us?" said Phoebus; "do you love me?"
"Oh!"--said she.
&nb
sp; "Well! that is all. You shall see how I love you also. May the greatdevil Neptunus spear me if I do not make you the happiest woman in theworld. We will have a pretty little house somewhere. I will make myarchers parade before your windows. They are all mounted, and set atdefiance those of Captain Mignon. There are _voulgiers, cranequiniers_and hand _couleveiniers_*. I will take you to the great sights of theParisians at the storehouse of Rully. Eighty thousand armed men, thirtythousand white harnesses, short coats or coats of mail; the sixty-sevenbanners of the trades; the standards of the parliaments, of the chamberof accounts, of the treasury of the generals, of the aides of the mint;a devilish fine array, in short! I will conduct you to see the lions ofthe Hotel du Roi, which are wild beasts. All women love that."
* Varieties of the crossbow.
For several moments the young girl, absorbed in her charming thoughts,was dreaming to the sound of his voice, without listening to the senseof his words.
"Oh! how happy you will be!" continued the captain, and at the same timehe gently unbuckled the gypsy's girdle.
"What are you doing?" she said quickly. This "act of violence" hadroused her from her revery.
"Nothing," replied Phoebus, "I was only saying that you must abandon allthis garb of folly, and the street corner when you are with me."
"When I am with you, Phoebus!" said the young girl tenderly.
She became pensive and silent once more.
The captain, emboldened by her gentleness, clasped her waist withoutresistance; then began softly to unlace the poor child's corsage, anddisarranged her tucker to such an extent that the panting priest beheldthe gypsy's beautiful shoulder emerge from the gauze, as round and brownas the moon rising through the mists of the horizon.
The young girl allowed Phoebus to have his way. She did not appear toperceive it. The eye of the bold captain flashed.
Suddenly she turned towards him,--
"Phoebus," she said, with an expression of infinite love, "instruct mein thy religion."
"My religion!" exclaimed the captain, bursting with laughter, "Iinstruct you in my religion! _Corne et tonnerre_! What do you want withmy religion?"
"In order that we may be married," she replied.
The captain's face assumed an expression of mingled surprise anddisdain, of carelessness and libertine passion.
"Ah, bah!" said he, "do people marry?"
The Bohemian turned pale, and her head drooped sadly on her breast.
"My beautiful love," resumed Phoebus, tenderly, "what nonsense is this?A great thing is marriage, truly! one is none the less loving for nothaving spit Latin into a priest's shop!"
While speaking thus in his softest voice, he approached extremely nearthe gypsy; his caressing hands resumed their place around her supple anddelicate waist, his eye flashed more and more, and everything announcedthat Monsieur Phoebus was on the verge of one of those moments whenJupiter himself commits so many follies that Homer is obliged to summona cloud to his rescue.
But Dom Claude saw everything. The door was made of thoroughly rottencask staves, which left large apertures for the passage of his hawklikegaze. This brown-skinned, broad-shouldered priest, hitherto condemned tothe austere virginity of the cloister, was quivering and boiling in thepresence of this night scene of love and voluptuousness. This youngand beautiful girl given over in disarray to the ardent young man, mademelted lead flow in his-veins; his eyes darted with sensual jealousybeneath all those loosened pins. Any one who could, at that moment, haveseen the face of the unhappy man glued to the wormeaten bars, would havethought that he beheld the face of a tiger glaring from the depths ofa cage at some jackal devouring a gazelle. His eye shone like a candlethrough the cracks of the door.
All at once, Phoebus, with a rapid gesture, removed the gypsy'sgorgerette. The poor child, who had remained pale and dreamy, awokewith a start; she recoiled hastily from the enterprising officer, and,casting a glance at her bare neck and shoulders, red, confused, mutewith shame, she crossed her two beautiful arms on her breast to concealit. Had it not been for the flame which burned in her cheeks, at thesight of her so silent and motionless, one would have declared her astatue of Modesty. Her eyes were lowered.
But the captain's gesture had revealed the mysterious amulet which shewore about her neck.
"What is that?" he said, seizing this pretext to approach once more thebeautiful creature whom he had just alarmed.
"Don't touch it!" she replied, quickly, "'tis my guardian. It will makeme find my family again, if I remain worthy to do so. Oh, leave me,monsieur le capitaine! My mother! My poor mother! My mother! Where artthou? Come to my rescue! Have pity, Monsieur Phoebus, give me back mygorgerette!"
Phoebus retreated amid said in a cold tone,--
"Oh, mademoiselle! I see plainly that you do not love me!"
"I do not love him!" exclaimed the unhappy child, and at the same timeshe clung to the captain, whom she drew to a seat beside her. "I do notlove thee, my Phoebus? What art thou saying, wicked man, to break myheart? Oh, take me! take all! do what you will with me, I am thine. Whatmatters to me the amulet! What matters to me my mother! 'Tis thou whoart my mother since I love thee! Phoebus, my beloved Phoebus, dost thousee me? 'Tis I. Look at me; 'tis the little one whom thou wilt surelynot repulse, who comes, who comes herself to seek thee. My soul, mylife, my body, my person, all is one thing--which is thine, my captain.Well, no! We will not marry, since that displeases thee; and then, whatam I? a miserable girl of the gutters; whilst thou, my Phoebus, art agentleman. A fine thing, truly! A dancer wed an officer! I was mad. No,Phoebus, no; I will be thy mistress, thy amusement, thy pleasure, whenthou wilt; a girl who shall belong to thee. I was only made for that,soiled, despised, dishonored, but what matters it?--beloved. I shall bethe proudest and the most joyous of women. And when I grow old or ugly,Phoebus, when I am no longer good to love you, you will suffer me toserve you still. Others will embroider scarfs for you; 'tis I, theservant, who will care for them. You will let me polish your spurs,brush your doublet, dust your riding-boots. You will have that pity,will you not, Phoebus? Meanwhile, take me! here, Phoebus, all thisbelongs to thee, only love me! We gypsies need only air and love."
So saying, she threw her arms round the officer's neck; she looked upat him, supplicatingly, with a beautiful smile, and all in tears.Her delicate neck rubbed against his cloth doublet with its roughembroideries. She writhed on her knees, her beautiful body half naked.The intoxicated captain pressed his ardent lips to those lovely Africanshoulders. The young girl, her eyes bent on the ceiling, as she leanedbackwards, quivered, all palpitating, beneath this kiss.
All at once, above Phoebus's head she beheld another head; a green,livid, convulsed face, with the look of a lost soul; near this face wasa hand grasping a poniard.--It was the face and hand of the priest; hehad broken the door and he was there. Phoebus could not see him. Theyoung girl remained motionless, frozen with terror, dumb, beneath thatterrible apparition, like a dove which should raise its head at themoment when the hawk is gazing into her nest with its round eyes.
She could not even utter a cry. She saw the poniard descend uponPhoebus, and rise again, reeking.
"Maledictions!" said the captain, and fell.
She fainted.
At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her,she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted upon her lips, akiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.
When she recovered her senses, she was surrounded by soldiers of thewatch they were carrying away the captain, bathed in his blood thepriest had disappeared; the window at the back of the room which openedon the river was wide open; they picked up a cloak which they supposedto belong to the officer and she heard them saying around her,
"'Tis a sorceress who has stabbed a captain."
BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER I. THE CROWN CHANGED INTO A DRY LEAF.