Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

I So Ugly and You So Beautiful

Part III: Repercussion

When Quasimodo wasn't among bells, he spent his time sculpting wooden figures. Currently he was working on modifying the porch of the cathedral. They changed the building often and it was difficult to keep his model up to date.

Stone and wood were more patient than people. He had never known his family, and with his deformity, there was little chance of friends. The mere sight of him repulsed the city folk, so naturally, the only things in his life were his master and the cathedral. He lived because of them and for them. No one else mattered. Or, it used to be like that until she came.

Frollo had sometimes been skeptical of Quasimodo's sanity, and he had to agree. Loneliness was an old acquaintance, and he worried that one day, out of desperation, the gargoyles would start appearing more human than people. That's why his first reaction upon hearing his name was to dismiss it as a trick of his mind. But he heard it again, and this time, he heard it clearly. His heart fluttered at recognizing the sweet voice. It couldn't be.

But it didn't matter. Just the chance that she might be there was a risk he willed to take. Grabbing a quick glimpse in the mirror, he fixed his hair and galloped out of the room. In elation his course of action was to sprint upstairs, into the cell meant for sanctuary. He cursed himself remembering that she wasn't there anymore.

'Is anyone here?'

The stairs. His large frame raced back towards them, half-swung upon the railings before landing on the ground. It was reality. A few feet away, Esmeralda stood where his master did, bearing the same expression he did.

And to see her in front of him, alive and well, was a heavenly sight to the bell-ringer. "She must be thinking that I am a madman," he thought, aware of the broad smile on his face. She cast an indifferent glance across the tower. 'The archdeacon is going out of the city for work, so he told me to give you food. You're fine with me coming here, aren't you?'

'O-of course, he uttered, pulling his master's chair. 'Please sit down.' She did so and placed the basket on the table. Akin to the noblewomen he had seen from the tower, she too wore a hefty headdress with a veil that enveloped her head and neck. 'You can take that off here. It's hot.' Her hands raised to remove it, but abruptly stopped. 'I am alright.'

He noticed that she wasn't looking at him; not seeing his physiognomy for long must've lessened the familiarity. She shifted the basket. 'Eat, please.' He picked up a piece of bread.

As he ate, he perceived that something was wrong with Esmeralda. Her fingers picked at the stem of a bunch of grapes in the basket, her eyes insipid and fixated on the table. She almost seemed as lost and dejected as she was when he brought her to the cathedral. "Of course she's upset. The one she loved has gotten married."

'You must be missing him.'

To his startlement, the girl's shoulders shivered at this comment. 'No, a week isn't long. It would've been better had he gone for a year.'

He would've corrected her on the subject of his sentence, but then he recalled the previous evening. 'I hope that you're doing well; I heard about Phoebus's banquet.' She didn't reply, but began to rub her upper arm lightly. Her once-rosy, presently bloodless mouth broke into a grimace.

'I am sorry,' he said straight away. 'I didn't mean to discomfit you. I was only worried.'

'It's fine. You shouldn't worry,' she said, giving a smile that betrayed equivalent pity and annoyance before resuming her toying with the stem. Quasimodo could feel his back crook more as regret seeped in. She was hiding something, and it was no wonder that she didn't consider him worthy to unburden herself in. How could he have the audacity to surmise that this ethereal beauty would want to share the same space as him?