That night, la Esmeralda had fallen asleep in her cell, full ofoblivion, of hope, and of sweet thoughts. She had already been asleepfor some time, dreaming as always, of Phoebus, when it seemed to herthat she heard a noise near her. She slept lightly and uneasily, thesleep of a bird; a mere nothing waked her. She opened her eyes. Thenight was very dark. Nevertheless, she saw a figure gazing at herthrough the window; a lamp lighted up this apparition. The moment thatthe figure saw that la Esmeralda had perceived it, it blew out thelamp. But the young girl had had time to catch a glimpse of it; her eyesclosed again with terror.
"Oh!" she said in a faint voice, "the priest!"
All her past unhappiness came back to her like a flash of lightning. Shefell back on her bed, chilled.
A moment later she felt a touch along her body which made her shudderso that she straightened herself up in a sitting posture, wide awake andfurious.
The priest had just slipped in beside her. He encircled her with botharms.
She tried to scream and could not.
"Begone, monster! begone assassin!" she said, in a voice which was lowand trembling with wrath and terror.
"Mercy! mercy!" murmured the priest, pressing his lips to her shoulder.
She seized his bald head by its remnant of hair and tried to thrustaside his kisses as though they had been bites.
"Mercy!" repeated the unfortunate man. "If you but knew what my love foryou is! 'Tis fire, melted lead, a thousand daggers in my heart."
She stopped his two arms with superhuman force.
"Let me go," she said, "or I will spit in your face!"
He released her. "Vilify me, strike me, be malicious! Do what you will!But have mercy! love me!"
Then she struck him with the fury of a child. She made her beautifulhands stiff to bruise his face. "Begone, demon!"
"Love me! love mepity!" cried the poor priest returning her blows withcaresses.
All at once she felt him stronger than herself.
"There must be an end to this!" he said, gnashing his teeth.
She was conquered, palpitating in his arms, and in his power. She felt awanton hand straying over her. She made a last effort, and began to cry:"Help! Help! A vampire! a vampire!"
Nothing came. Djali alone was awake and bleating with anguish.
"Hush!" said the panting priest.
All at once, as she struggled and crawled on the floor, the gypsy's handcame in contact with something cold and metal-lic-it was Quasimodo'swhistle. She seized it with a convulsive hope, raised it to her lips andblew with all the strength that she had left. The whistle gave a clear,piercing sound.
"What is that?" said the priest.
Almost at the same instant he felt himself raised by a vigorous arm. Thecell was dark; he could not distinguish clearly who it was that heldhim thus; but he heard teeth chattering with rage, and there was justsufficient light scattered among the gloom to allow him to see above hishead the blade of a large knife.
The priest fancied that he perceived the form of Quasimodo. He assumedthat it could be no one but he. He remembered to have stumbled, ashe entered, over a bundle which was stretched across the door on theoutside. But, as the newcomer did not utter a word, he knew not whatto think. He flung himself on the arm which held the knife, crying:"Quasimodo!" He forgot, at that moment of distress, that Quasimodo wasdeaf.
In a twinkling, the priest was overthrown and a leaden knee rested onhis breast.
From the angular imprint of that knee he recognized Quasimodo; but whatwas to be done? how could he make the other recognize him? the darknessrendered the deaf man blind.
He was lost. The young girl, pitiless as an enraged tigress, did notintervene to save him. The knife was approaching his head; themoment was critical. All at once, his adversary seemed stricken withhesitation.
"No blood on her!" he said in a dull voice.
It was, in fact, Quasimodo's voice.
Then the priest felt a large hand dragging him feet first out of thecell; it was there that he was to die. Fortunately for him, the moon hadrisen a few moments before.
When they had passed through the door of the cell, its pale rays fellupon the priest's countenance. Quasimodo looked him full in the face, atrembling seized him, and he released the priest and shrank back.
The gypsy, who had advanced to the threshold of her cell, beheldwith surprise their roles abruptly changed. It was now the priest whomenaced, Quasimodo who was the suppliant.
The priest, who was overwhelming the deaf man with gestures of wrath andreproach, made the latter a violent sign to retire.
The deaf man dropped his head, then he came and knelt at the gypsy'sdoor,--"Monseigneur," he said, in a grave and resigned voice, "you shalldo all that you please afterwards, but kill me first."
So saying, he presented his knife to the priest. The priest, besidehimself, was about to seize it. But the young girl was quicker than be;she wrenched the knife from Quasimodo's hands and burst into a franticlaugh,--"Approach," she said to the priest.
She held the blade high. The priest remained undecided.
She would certainly have struck him.
Then she added with a pitiless expression, well aware that she was aboutto pierce the priest's heart with thousands of red-hot irons,--
"Ah! I know that Phoebus is not dead!"
The priest overturned Quasimodo on the floor with a kick, and, quiveringwith rage, darted back under the vault of the staircase.
When he was gone, Quasimodo picked up the whistle which had just savedthe gypsy.
"It was getting rusty," he said, as he handed it back to her; then heleft her alone.
The young girl, deeply agitated by this violent scene, fell backexhausted on her bed, and began to sob and weep. Her horizon wasbecoming gloomy once more.
The priest had groped his way back to his cell.
It was settled. Dom Claude was jealous of Quasimodo!
He repeated with a thoughtful air his fatal words: "No one shall haveher."
BOOK TENTH.
CHAPTER I. GRINGOIRE HAS MANY GOOD IDEAS IN SUCCESSION.--RUE DESBERNARDINS.