32
THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE !DAME.
M

i
female of superior beauty, especially when there
is but one man in the party.
The reception of the Bohemian was of course
marvelously cold. They surveyed her from head
to foot, then looked at each other with an expres-
sion which told their meaning as plainly as words
could have done. Meanwhile the stranger,
daunted to such a degree that she durst not raise
her eyes, stood waiting to be spoken to.
The captain was the first to break silence. " A
charming creature, by my fay ! " cried he, in his
straightforward, blundering manner. "What
think you of her, my pretty cousin ?"
This ejaculation, which a more delicate admirer
would at least have uttered in a less audible tone,
was not likely to disperse the feminine jealousies
arrayed against the Bohemian.
"Not amiss," replied Fleur de Lys to the cap-
tain's question, with affected disdain. The others
whispered together.
At length Madame Aloise, who felt not the less
jealousy "because she was jealous on behalf of her
daughter, accosted the dancer. "Come hither,
my girl," said she. The Egyptian advanced to the
lady.
" My pretty girl," said Phoebus, taking a few
steps towards her, " I know not whether you recol-
lect me--------"
" 0 yes ! " said she, interrupting him, with a
smile and a look of inexpressible kindness.
" She has a good memory," observed Fleur de
Lys.
"How was it," resumed Phoebus, "that you
slipped away in such a hurry the other night ?
Did I frighten you?"
" 0 no ! " said the Bohemian.
In the accent with which this "0 no! "was
uttered immediately after the " 0 yes ! " there
was an indefinable something which wounded
Fleur de Lys to the quick.
" In your stead," continued the captain, whose
tongue ran glibly enough in talking to one, whom
from her occupation he took to be a girl of loose
manners, " you left me a grim-faced, one-eyed,
hunchbacked fellow—the bishop's bell-ringer, I
think they say. Some will have it that the Arch-
deacon, and others that the devil, is his father.
He has a comical name—I have quite forgot what
—taken from some festival or other. What the
devil did the owl of a fellow want with you,
hey?»
"I don't know," answered she.
" Curse his impudence !—a rascally bell-ringer
run away with a girl like a viscount ! A common
fellow poach on the game of gentlemen ! Who
ever heard of such a thing ! But he paid dearly
for it. Master Pierrat Torterue is the roughest
groom that ever trimmed a varlet ; and I assure
you, if that can do you any good, he curried the
bell-ringer's hide most soundly."
" Poor fellow ! " said the Bohemian, who at the
captain's words eould not help calling to mind the
scene at the pillory.
" Zounds I " cried the captain, laughing outright,
" that pity is as well bestowed as a feather on a
pig's tail.   May I be —------"   He stopped short.
" I beg pardon, ladies, I had like to have forgotten
myself."
" Fie, sir ! " said Gaillefontaine.
" He is only talking to that creature in her own
language," said Fleur de Lys in an under-tone,
her vexation increasing every moment. Nor was it
diminished when she saw the captain, enchanted
with the Bohemian and still more with himself,
make a pirouette, repeating with blunt soldierlike
gallantry : "A fine girl, upon my soul !"
" But very uncouthly dressed," said Diane de
Christeuil, grinning and showing her beautiful
teeth.
This remark was a new light to her companions.
It showed them the assailable side of the
Egyptian ; as they could not carp at her beauty,
they fell foul of her dress.
"How comes it, my girl," said Montmichel,
" that you run about the streets in this manner,
without neckerchief or stomacher ? "
"And then, what a short petticoat !" exclaimed
Gaillefontaine.   " Quite shocking, I declare ! "
" My dear," said Fleur de Lys, in a tone of any
thing but kindness, " the officers of the Chatelet
will take you up for wearing that gilt belt."
"My girl," resumed Christeuil, with a bitter
smile, " if you were to cover your arms decently
with sleeves, they would not ba so sunburned."
It was in truth a sight worthy of a more intel-
ligent spectator than Phoebus, to see how these
fair damsels, with their keen and envenomed
tongues, twisted, glided, and writhed, around the
dancing-girl ; they were at once cruel and grace-
ful ; they spitefully fell foul of her poor but
whimsical toilet of tinsel and spangles. There
was no end to their laughs, and jeers, and sar-
casms. You would have taken them for some of
those young Boman ladies, who amused them-
selves with thrusting gold pins into the breasts of
a beautiful slave ; or they might be likened to
elegant grey-hounds, turning, with distended
nostrils and glaring eyes, round a poor fawn,
which the look of their master forbids them to
devour.
What after all was a poor street-dancer to these
scions of distinguished families ! They seemed to
take no account of her presence, and talked of
her before her face, and even to herself, as of an
object at once very disgusting, very mean, and
very pretty.
The Bohemian was not insensible to their sting-
ing remarks. From time to time the glow of
shame or the flash of anger flushed her cheek or
lit up her eye ; a disdainful word seemed to hover
upon her lips ; her contempt expressed itself in
that pout with which the reader is already ac-
quainted ; but she stood motionless, fixing upon
Phoebus a look of resignation, sadness, and good-
nature. In that look there was also an expression
of tenderness and anxiety. You would have said
that she restrained her feelings for fear of being
turned out.
Meanwhile Phoebus laughed and began to take
the part of the Bohemian, with a mixture of im-
pertinence and pity. " Let them talk as they like,
my dear," said he clanking his gold spurs ; " your
dress is certainly somewhat whimsical and out of
the way, but, for such a charming creature as you
are, what does that signify ? "
" Dear me ! " exclaimed the fair Gaillefontaine,
bridling up, with a sarcastic smile, " how soon the
gentlemen archers of the King's ordnance take
hre at bright Egyptian eyes ! "
" Why not ? " said Phoabus.
At this reply, carelessly uttered by the captain,
Colombe laughed, so did Diane, so did Amelotte,
so did Fleur de Lys, though it is true that a tear
started at the same time into the eye of the latter.
The Bohemian, who had hung down her head at
the remark of Colombe de Gaillefontaine, raised
her eyes glistening with joy and pride, and again
fixed them on Phcebus. She was passing beauti-
ful at that moment.
The old lady, who watched this scene, felt of-
fended, though she knew not why. " Holy Vir-
gin ! " cried she all at once, " what have I got about
me ? Ah ! the nasty beast !"
It was the goat, which, in springing toward her
mistress, had entangled her horns in the load of
drapery which fell upon the feet of the noble lady
when she was seated. This was a diversion. The
Bohemian without saying a word disengaged the
animal.
" Oh ! here is the pretty little goat with golden
feet ! " cried Berangere, leaping for joy.
The Bohemian crouched upon her knees, and
pressed her cheek against the head of the fond-
ling goat, while Diane, stooping to the ear of
Colombe, whispered : "Howvery stupid of me not
to think of it sooner ! Why, it is the Egyptian
with the goat. It is reported that she is a witch,
and that her goat performs tricks absolutely mir-
aculous."
"Well," said Colombe, "the goat must per-
form one of its miracles and amuse us in its
turn."
Diane and Colombe eagerly addressed the
Egyptian. " My girl," said they, " make your goat
perform a miracle for us."
"I know not what you mean," replied the
dancer.
" A miracle, a piece of magic, or witchcraft, in
short."
"I don't understand you," she rejoined and
again began fondling the pretty creature, repeat-
ing, "Djali! Djali!"
At this moment Fleur de Lys remarked a small
embroidered leathern bag hung around the neck
of the goat.   "What is that?" she asked the
Fleur de Lys, come and see what the goat ha»
done !"
Fleur de Lys ran to her and shuddered The
letters which the goat had arranged upon the floor
formed the name
¦ PHCEBUS.
" Was it the goat that did this ? " she asked in a
tremulous voice.
" Yes, indeed it was, godmother," replied Beran
gere.   It was impossible to doubt the fact.
"The secret is out," thought Fleur de Lys.
At the outcry of the child, all who were present
the mother and the young ladies, and the Bo'
hemian, and the officer, hastened to the spot. The
dancing-girl saw at once what a slippery trick the
goat had played her. She changed color, and
began to tremble, like one who had committed
some crime, before the captain, who eyed her with
a smile of astonishment and gratification.
For a moment the young ladies were struck
dumb. "Phoebus ! " they at length whispered to
one another, " why, that is the name of the cap-
tain ! "
"You have a wonderful memory,"said Fleur de
Lys to the petrified Bohemian. Then bursting
into sobs, "Oh!" she stammered, in a tone of
anguish, covering her face with both her fair
hands, "she is a sorceress !" the while a voice, in
still more thrilling accents, cried in the recesses of
her heart, " She is a rival I " She sank fainting on
the floor.
" My daughter ! my daughter ! " shrieked the
affrighted mother. " Get thee gone, child of per-
dition ! " said she to the Bohemian.
La Esmeralda picked up the unlucky letters in
the twinkling of an eye, made a sign to her Djali,
and retired at one door, while Fleur de Lys was
borne away by another.
Captain Phcebus, being left by himself, wavered
for a moment between the two doors, and then
followed the gypsy girl.
Chapter IL—A Priest and a Philosopher are
Two Different Persons.
Egyptian,
" The girl raised her large eyes toward her and
gravely answered : " That is my secret."
I should like to know what your secret is,
thought Fleur de Lys.
The good lady had meanwhile risen. "Girl,"
said she sharply, " if neither you nor your goat
have any dance to show us, why do you stay
her.e?"
The Bohemian, without making any reply, drew
leisurely toward the door. The nearer she ap-
proached it, the more slowly she moved. An in-
vincible lodestone seemed to detain her. All at
once she turned her eyes glistening with tears to-
ward Phoebus and stood still.
" By my fay ! " cried the captain, " you sha'n't
get off thus. Come back and give us a dance. By
the by, what is your name, my pretty dear ?"
" La Esmeralda," said the dancing-girl, whose
eyes were still fixed upon him.
At this strange name, the young ladies burst
into a loud laugh.
"A terrible name that for a damoiselle !" said
Diane.
" You see plainly enough," observed Amelotte,
" that she is a witch."
" My girl," said Dame Aloise in a solemn tone,
"your parents never found that name for you in
the font."
While this scene was passing, Beranger» had
enticed the goat into a corner of the room with a
marchpane. They were at once the best friends
in the world. The inquisitive girl loosed the little
bag from the neck of the animal, opened it, and
emptied its contents upon the mat : they consisted
of an alphabet, each letter being separately in-
scribed upon a small piece of hox-wood. No
sooner were these playthings spread out upon the
mat than, to the astonishment of the child, the
goat—one of whose miracles this no doubt was—
sorted out certain letters with her golden foot,
arranged them and shuffled them gently together,
in a particular order, so as to make a word, which
the animal formed with such readiness that she
seemed to have had a good deal of practice in put-
ting it together. Berangere, clapping her hands
in admiration, suddenly exclaimed : "Godmother
The priest whom the young ladies had observed
on the top of the north tower stooping over the
place, and intently watching the motions of the
Bohemian, was, in fact, the Archdeacon Claude
Frollo.
Our readers have not forgotten the mysterious
cell which the Archdeacon had reserved for him-
self in that tower. I know not, be it remarked by
the way, whether this is not the same cell, the in-
terior of which may still be seen through a small
square aperture on the east Bide, at about the
height of a man, on the platform from which the
towers rise. It is a small room, naked, empty.
dilapidated, the ill-plastered walls of which are at
the present day adorned with yellow engravings
representing the fronts of cathedrals. This hole
is, I presume, inhabited conjointly by bats and
spiders, and consequently a double war of exter-
mination is carried on there against the unfor-
tunate flies.
Every day, an hour before sunset, the Arch-
deacon ascended the staircase of the tower, and
shut himself up in this cell, where he frequently
passed whole nights. On this day, just as he had
reached the low door of his retreat, and put into
the lock the little complicated key which he always
carried with him in the pouch hanging at his side,
the soundB of a tambourine and castanets struck
his ear.
These sounds came from the Place du Parvis,
The cell, as we have already stated, had but one
window, looking upon the roof of the church.
Claude Frollo hastily withdrew the key, and the
next moment he was on the top of the tower, in
the attitude of profound reverie in which the
young ladies had perceived him.
There he was, grave, motionless, absorbed —all
eye, all ear, all thought. All Paris was at his feet,
with the thousand spires of its buildings, and its
circular horizon of gentle hills, with its river
winding beneath its bridges, and its population
pouring through its streets, with its clouds of
smoke, and its mountain-chain ot roofs, crowding
close upon Notre Dame, with its double slopes of
mail; but in this whole city the Archdeacon's eye
sought but one point of the pavement, the Place
du Parvis, and among the whole multitude but one
figure, the Bohemian.
It would have been difficult to decide what was
the nature of that look, and of the fire that flashed
from it. It was a fixed look, but full of tumult
and perturbation. And yet, from the profound
quiescence of his whole body, scarcely shaken
now and then by a mechanical shudder, as a tree
by the wind; from the stiffness of his arms, more
marble-like than the balustrade upon which tney
leaned; from the petrified smile which contracted
his face, you would have said that Claude Frollo
had nothing alive about him but his eyes.
The Bohemian was dancing ; she made ner
tambourine spin round on the tip of her nnger,
and threw it up in the air while she danced Pro-
vencal sarabands — light, agile, joyous, and nm,
aware of the weight of that formidable loos
which fell plump upon her head.                     .
The crowd thronged around her : from «mew
time a man habited in a yellow and red loosei coai.
went round the circle of spectators to keep tnem
back ; he then seated himself in a chair, at tne
distance of a few paces from the dancer, taums