on
with his anger, was the thought of what the gypsy would suffer could she
behold it. It is true that the night was very dark, that la Esmeralda,
if she had remained at her post (and he had no doubt of this), was very
far away, and that it was all that he himself could do to distinguish
the lovers on the balcony. This consoled him.

Meanwhile, their conversation grew more and more animated. The young
lady appeared to be entreating the officer to ask nothing more of her.
Of all this Quasimodo could distinguish only the beautiful clasped
hands, the smiles mingled with tears, the young girl's glances directed
to the stars, the eyes of the captain lowered ardently upon her.

Fortunately, for the young girl was beginning to resist but feebly, the
door of the balcony suddenly opened once more and an old dame appeared;
the beauty seemed confused, the officer assumed an air of displeasure,
and all three withdrew.

A moment later, a horse was champing his bit under the porch, and the
brilliant officer, enveloped in his night cloak, passed rapidly before
Quasimodo.

The bellringer allowed him to turn the corner of the street, then he ran
after him with his ape-like agility, shouting: "Hey there! captain!"

The captain halted.

"What wants this knave with me?" he said, catching sight through the
gloom of that hipshot form which ran limping after him.

Meanwhile, Quasimodo had caught up with him, and had boldly grasped his
horse's bridle: "Follow me, captain; there is one here who desires to
speak with you!

"_Cornemahom_!" grumbled Phoebus, "here's a villanous; ruffled bird
which I fancy I have seen somewhere. Hola master, will you let my
horse's bridle alone?"

"Captain," replied the deaf man, "do you not ask me who it is?"

"I tell you to release my horse," retorted Phoebus, impatiently. "What
means the knave by clinging to the bridle of my steed? Do you take my
horse for a gallows?"

Quasimodo, far from releasing the bridle, prepared to force him to
retrace his steps. Unable to comprehend the captain's resistance, he
hastened to say to him,--

"Come, captain, 'tis a woman who is waiting for you." He added with an
effort: "A woman who loves you."

"A rare rascal!" said the captain, "who thinks me obliged to go to all
the women who love me! or who say they do. And what if, by chance, she
should resemble you, you face of a screech-owl? Tell the woman who has
sent you that I am about to marry, and that she may go