"It must be a dream," the girl murmured, when she heard the sentence.
But, if Esmeralda had yielded at the first turn of the rack, nothing would make her yield to Claude Frollo when he came to see her in prison.
In vain he promised her life and liberty if she would only agree to love him. In vain he reproached her with having brought disturbance and disquiet into his soul. All that Esmeralda could say was, "Have pity on me!--have pity on me!" But she would not give up Phoebus. And when the priest declared Phoebus was dead, she turned upon him and called him "monster and a.s.sa.s.sin!" Claude Frollo, unable to move her, decided to let her die, and the day of execution arrived. As for Captain Phoebus, he recovered; but, as he was about to be engaged to a young lady of wealth, he thought it better to say nothing about the gypsy girl.
But Esmeralda was not hanged that day. Just as the hangman"s a.s.sistants were about to do their work, Quasimodo, who had been watching everything from his gallery in Notre Dame, slid down by a rope to the ground, rushed at the two executioners, flung them to the earth with his huge fists, seized the gypsy girl, as a child might a doll, and with one bound was in the church, holding her above his head, and shouting in a tremendous voice, "Sanctuary!"
"Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" The mob took up the cry, and ten thousand hands clapped approval.
The hangman stood stupefied. Within the precincts of Notre Dame the prisoner was secure; the cathedral was a sure refuge, all human justice ended at its threshold.
_IV.--The Attack on Notre Dame_
Quasimodo did not stop running and shouting "Sanctuary!" till he reached a cell built over the aisles in Notre Dame. Here he deposited Esmeralda carefully, untied the ropes which bruised her arms, and spread a mattress on the floor; then he left her, and returned with a basket of provisions.
The girl lifted her eyes to thank him, but could not utter a word, so frightful was he to look at. Quasimodo only said, "I frighten you because I am ugly. Do not look at me, then, but listen. All day you must stay here, at night you can walk anywhere about the church. But, day or night, do not leave the church, or you will be lost. They would kill you, and I should die." Then he vanished, but when she awoke next morning she saw him at the window of her cell.
"Don"t be frightened," he said. "I am your friend. I only came to see if you were asleep. I am deaf, you did not know that? I never realised how ugly I was till now. I seem to you like some awful beast, eh? And you--you are a sunbeam!"
As the days went by calm returned to Esmeralda"s soul, and with calm had come the sense of security, and with security hope.
Two forces were now at work to remove her from Notre Dame.
The archdeacon, leaving Paris to avoid her execution, had returned--to learn where Esmeralda was situated. From his cell in Notre Dame he observed her movements, and, in his madness, jealous of Quasimodo"s service to her, resolved to have her removed. If she still refused him he would give her up to justice.
Esmeralda"s friends, all the gypsies, vagrants, cutthroats, and pick-pockets of Paris, to the number of six thousand, also resolved that they would forcibly rescue her from Notre Dame, lest some evil should overtake her. Paris at that time had neither police nor adequate city watchmen.
At midnight the monstrous army of vagrants set out, and it was not until they were outside the church that they lit their torches. Quasimodo, every night on the watch, at once supposed that the invaders had some foul purpose against Esmeralda, and determined to defend the church at all cost.
The battle raged furiously at the great west doors. Hammers, pincers, and crow-bars were at work outside. Quasimodo retaliated by heaving first a great beam of wood, and then stones and other missiles on the besiegers. Finally, when they had reared a tall ladder to the first gallery, and had crowded it with men, Quasimodo, by sheer force, pushed the ladder away, and it tottered and fell right back. The battle only ended on the arrival of a large company of King"s Archers, when the vagrants, defeated by Quasimodo, retired fighting.
While the battle raged Claude Frollo, with the aid of a disreputable young student of his acquaintance, persuaded Esmeralda to leave the church by a secret door at the back, and to escape by the river. The priest was so hidden in his cloak that the girl did not recognise him till they were alone in the city. In the Greve, at the foot of the public scaffold where the gallows stood, Claude Frollo made his last appeal.
"Listen!" he said. "I have saved you, and I can save you altogether, if you choose. Choose between me and the gibbet!"
There was silence, and then Esmeralda said, "It is less horrible to me than you are."
He poured out his soul pa.s.sionately, telling her that his life was nothing without her love, but the girl never moved.
It was daylight now.
"For the last time, will you be mine?"
She answered emphatically, "No!"
Then he called out as loud as he could, and presently a body of armed men appeared. Soon the public hangman was aroused, and the execution which had been interrupted by Quasimodo"s heroic rescue was carried out.
Meantime, what of Quasimodo?
He had rushed to her cell when the king"s troops, having beaten off the vagrants, entered the church, and it was empty! Then he had explored every nook and cranny of Notre Dame, and again and again gone the round of the church. For an hour he sat in despair, his body convulsed by sobs.
Suddenly he remembered that Claude Frollo had a secret key, and decided that the priest must have carried her off.
At that very moment Claude returned to Notre Dame, after handing over Esmeralda to the hangman. Quasimodo watched him ascend to the bal.u.s.trade at the top of the tower, and then followed him; the priest"s attention was too absorbed to hear the hunchback"s step.
Claude rested his arms on the bal.u.s.trade, and gazed intently at the gallows in the Greve. Quasimodo tried to make out what it was the priest stared at, and then he recognised Esmeralda in the hangman"s arms on the ladder, and in another second the hangman had done his work.
A demoniac laugh broke from the livid lips of Claude Frollo; Quasimodo could not hear this laughter, but he saw it.
He rushed furiously upon the archdeacon, and with his great fists he hurled Claude Frollo into the abyss over which he leaned.
The archdeacon caught at a gutter, and hung suspended for a few minutes, and then fell--more than two hundred feet.
Quasimodo raised his eyes to the gypsy, whose body still swung from the gibbet; and then lowered them to the shapeless ma.s.s on the pavement beneath. "And these were all I have ever loved!" he said, sobbing.
He was never seen again in Notre Dame.
Some two years later, when there were certain clearances in the vault where the body of Esmeralda had been deposited, the skeleton of a man, deformed and twisted, was found in close embrace with the skeleton of a woman. A little silk bag which Esmeralda had always worn was around the neck of the skeleton of the woman.
The Toilers of the Sea
Victor Hugo"s third great romance, "The Toilers of the Sea"
("Les Travailleurs de la Mer"), published in 1866, was written during his exile in Guernsey. Of all Hugo"s romances, both in prose and in verse, none surpa.s.ses this for sheer splendour of imagination and diction, for eloquence and sublimity of truth.
It is, in short, an idyll of pa.s.sion, adventure, and self-sacrifice. The description of the moods and mysteries of the sea is well-nigh incomparable; and not even in the whole of Hugo"s works can there be found anything more vivid than Gilliatt"s battle with the devil-fish. The scene of the story is laid in the Channel Islands, and the book itself is dedicated to the "Isle of Guernsey, severe yet gentle, my present asylum, my probable tomb." The story was immensely successful on its appearance, and was at once translated into several European languages.
_I.--A Lonely Man_
A Guernseyman named Gilliatt, who was avoided by his neighbours on account of lonely habits, and a certain love of nature which the suspicious people regarded as indicating some connection with the devil, was one day returning on a rising tide from his fishing, when he fancied he saw in a certain projection of the cliff a shadow of a man.
The place probably attracted Gilliatt"s gaze because it was a favourite sojourn of his--a natural seat cut in the great cliffs, and affording a magnificent view of the sea. It was a place to which some uninitiated traveller would climb with delight from the sh.o.r.e and sit entranced by the scene before him, all oblivious of the rising ocean till he was completely cut off from escape. No shout would reach the ear of man from that desolate giant"s chair in the rock.
Gilliatt steered his ship nearer to the cliff, and saw that the shadow was a man. The sea was already high. The rock was encircled. Gilliatt drew nearer. The man was asleep.
He was attired in black, and looked like a priest. Gilliatt had never seen him before. The fisherman wore off, skirted the rock wall, and, approaching so close to the dangerous cliff that by standing on the gunwale of his sloop he could touch the foot of the sleeper, succeeded in arousing him.
The man roused, and muttered, "I was looking about."
Gilliatt bade him jump into the boat. When he had landed this young priest, who had a somewhat feminine cast of features, a clear eye, and a grave manner, Gilliatt perceived that he was holding out a sovereign in a very white hand. Gilliatt moved the hand gently away. There was a pause. Then the young man bowed, and left him.