WhenQuasimodosawthatthecellwasempty,thatthegypsywasnolongerthere,thatwhilehehadbeendefendinghershehadbeenabducted,hegraspedhishairwithbothhandsandstampedwithsurpriseandpain;thenhesetouttorunthroughtheentirechurchseekinghisBohemian,howlingstrangecriestoallthecornersofthewalls,strewinghisredhaironthepavement.
Itwasjustatthemomentwhentheking'sarchersweremakingtheirvictoriousentranceintoNotre–Dame,alsoinsearchofthegypsy.
Quasimodo,poor,deaffellow,aidedthemintheirfatalintentions,withoutsuspectingit;hethoughtthattheoutcastswerethegypsy'senemies.
HehimselfconductedTristanl'Hermitetoallpossiblehiding–places,openedtohimthesecretdoors,thedoublebottomsofthealtars,therearsacristries.
WhenthefatigueoffindingnothinghaddisheartenedTristan,whowasnoteasilydiscouraged,Quasimodocontinuedthesearchalone.
Hemadethetourofthechurchtwentytimes,lengthandbreadth,upanddown,ascendinganddescending,running,calling,sbouting,peeping,rummaging,ransacking,thrustinghisheadintoeveryhole,pushingatorchundereveryvault,despairing,mad.
Atlastwhenhewassure,perfectlysurethatshewasnolongerthere,thatallwasatanend,thatshehadbeensnatchedfromhim,heslowlymountedthestaircasetothetowers,thatstaircasewhichhehadascendedwithsomucheagernessandtriumphonthedaywhenhehadsavedher.
Quasimodo,leftaloneinthatvastNotre–Dame,sobesiegedandtumultuousbutashorttimebefore,oncemorebetookhimselftothecellwherethegypsyhadsleptforsomanyweeksunderhisguardianship.
When,attheturnofthegallerywhichopensontheroofofthesideaisles,heperceivedthetinycellwithitslittlewindowanditslittledoorcrouchingbeneathagreatflyingbuttresslikeabird'snestunderabranch,thepoorman'sheartfailedhim,andheleanedagainstapillartokeepfromfalling.
Heimaginedthatshemighthavereturnedthither,thatsomegoodgeniushad,nodoubt,broughtherback,thatthischamberwastootranquil,toosafe,toocharmingforhernottobethere,andhedarednottakeanotherstepforfearofdestroyinghisillusion.
Theunhappydeafmanwalkedslowlyroundit,liftedthebedandlookedbeneathit,asthoughshemightbeconcealedbetweenthepavementandthemattress,thenheshookhisheadandremainedstupefied.
Allatonce,hecrushedhistorchunderhisfoot,and,withoututteringaword,withoutgivingventtoasigh,heflunghimselfatfullspeed,headforemostagainstthewall,andfellfaintingonthefloor.
Whenherecoveredhissenses,hethrewhimselfonthebedandrollingabout,hekissedfranticallytheplacewheretheyounggirlhadsleptandwhichwasstillwarm;heremainedthereforseveralmomentsasmotionlessasthoughhewereabouttoexpire;thenherose,drippingwithperspiration,panting,mad,andbegantobeathisheadagainstthewallwiththefrightfulregularityoftheclapperofhisbells,andtheresolutionofamandeterminedtokillhimself.
Atlengthhefellasecondtime,exhausted;hedraggedhimselfonhiskneesoutsidethecell,andcroucheddownfacingthedoor,inanattitudeofastonishment.
Heremainedthusformorethananhourwithoutmakingamovement,withhiseyefixedonthedesertedcell,moregloomy,andmorepensivethanamotherseatedbetweenanemptycradleandafullcoffin.
Heutterednotaword;onlyatlongintervals,asobheavedhisbodyviolently,butitwasatearlesssob,likesummerlightningwhichmakesnonoise.
Itappearstohavebeenthen,that,seekingatthebottomofhislonelythoughtsfortheunexpectedabductorofthegypsy,hethoughtofthearchdeacon.
HerememberedthatDomClaudealonepossessedakeytothestaircaseleadingtothecell;herecalledhisnocturnalattemptsontheyounggirl,inthefirstofwhichhe,Quasimodo,hadassisted,thesecondofwhichhehadprevented.
Nevertheless,suchwashisrespectforthepriest,suchhisgratitude,hisdevotion,hisloveforthismanhadtakensuchdeeprootinhisheart,thattheyresisted,evenatthismoment,thetalonsofjealousyanddespair.
Hereflectedthatthearchdeaconhaddonethisthing,andthewrathofbloodanddeathwhichitwouldhaveevokedinhimagainstanyotherperson,turnedinthepoordeafman,fromthemomentwhenClaudeFrollowasinquestion,intoanincreaseofgriefandsorrow.
Atthemomentwhenhisthoughtwasthusfixeduponthepriest,whilethedaybreakwaswhiteningtheflyingbuttresses,heperceivedonthehigheststoryofNotre–Dame,attheangleformedbytheexternalbalustradeasitmakestheturnofthechancel,afigurewalking.Thisfigurewascomingtowardshim.Herecognizedit.Itwasthearchdeacon.
Hedidnotlookbeforehimashewalked,hewasdirectinghiscoursetowardsthenortherntower,buthisfacewasturnedasidetowardstherightbankoftheSeine,andheheldhisheadhigh,asthoughtryingtoseesomethingovertheroofs.
Thedeafman,whohadbeenpetrifiedbythissuddenapparition,beheldhimdisappearthroughthedoorofthestaircasetothenorthtower.
Quasimodoascendedthetowerstaircaseforthesakeofascendingit,forthesakeofseeingwhythepriestwasascendingit.
Moreover,thepoorbellringerdidnotknowwhathe(Quasimodo)shoulddo,whatheshouldsay,whathewished.Hewasfulloffuryandfulloffear.
Whenhereachedthesummitofthetower,beforeemergingfromtheshadowofthestaircaseandsteppingupontheplatform,hecautiouslyexaminedthepositionofthepriest.Thepriest'sbackwasturnedtohim.
Thepriest,whoseeyeslookeddownuponthetown,wasrestinghisbreastonthatoneofthefoursidesofthebalustradeswhichlooksuponthePontNotre–Dame.
Parisisamagnificentandcharmingspectacle,andespeciallyatthatday,viewedfromthetopofthetowersofNotre–Dame,inthefreshlightofasummerdawn.ThedaymighthavebeeninJuly.Theskywasperfectlyserene.
Sometardystarswerefadingawayatvariouspoints,andtherewasaverybrilliantoneintheeast,inthebrightestpartoftheheavens.
Averywhiteandverypurelightbroughtoutvividlytotheeyealltheoutlinesthatitsthousandsofhousespresenttotheeast.
Alreadyseveralcolumnsofsmokewerebeingbelchedforthfromthechimneysscatteredoverthewholesurfaceofroofs,asthroughthefissuresofanimmensesulphurouscrater.
Theriver,whichrufflesitswatersagainstthearchesofsomanybridges,againstthepointsofsomanyislands,waswaveringwithsilveryfolds.
Aroundthecity,outsidetheramparts,sightwaslostinagreatcircleoffleecyvaporsthroughwhichoneconfusedlydistinguishedtheindefinitelineoftheplains,andthegracefulswelloftheheights.
IntheParvis,somegoodwomen,whohadtheirmilkjugsintheirhands,werepointingouttoeachother,withastonishment,thesingulardilapidationofthegreatdoorofNotre–Dame,andthetwosolidifiedstreamsofleadinthecrevicesofthestone.
Outsidethebalustradeofthetower,directlyunderthepointwherethepriesthadpaused,therewasoneofthosefantasticallycarvedstonegutterswithwhichGothicedificesbristle,and,inacreviceofthatgutter,twoprettywallflowersinblossom,shakenoutandvivified,asitwere,bythebreathofair,madefrolicsomesalutationstoeachother.
Inthatimmensehorizon,whichassumedsomanyaspectsabouthim,hiscontemplationwasconcentratedonasinglepoint.
Quasimodowasburningtoaskhimwhathehaddonewiththegypsy;butthearchdeaconseemedtobeoutoftheworldatthatmoment.
Heremainedmotionlessandsilent,withhiseyessteadilyfixedonacertainpoint;andtherewassomethingsoterribleaboutthissilenceandimmobilitythatthesavagebellringershudderedbeforeitanddarednotcomeincontactwithit.
Only,andthiswasalsoonewayofinterrogatingthearchdeacon,hefollowedthedirectionofhisvision,andinthiswaytheglanceoftheunhappydeafmanfelluponthePlacedeGrève.
Itwasnotbecausehisonlyeyehadnotpreserveditslongrange,buttherewasagroupofsoldierswhichpreventedhisseeingeverything.
Moreover,atthatmomentthesunappeared,andsuchafloodoflightoverflowedthehorizonthatonewouldhavesaidthatallthepointsinParis,spires,chimneys,gables,hadsimultaneouslytakenfire.
Hewascarryingawomanonhisshoulder,ayounggirldressedinwhite;thatyounggirlhadanooseaboutherneck.Quasimodorecognizedher.
Themanreachedthetopoftheladder.Therehearrangedthenoose.Herethepriest,inordertoseethebetter,kneltuponthebalustrade.
Allatoncethemankickedawaytheladderabruptly,andQuasimodo,whohadnotbreathedforseveralmoments,beheldtheunhappychilddanglingattheendoftheropetwofathomsabovethepavement,withthemansquattingonhershoulders.
Thepriest,onhisside,withoutstretchedneckandeyesstartingfromhishead,contemplatedthishorriblegroupofthemanandtheyounggirl,—thespiderandthefly.
Atthemomentwhenitwasmosthorrible,thelaughofademon,alaughwhichonecanonlygiveventtowhenoneisnolongerhuman,burstforthonthepriest'slividface.
Thebellringerretreatedseveralpacesbehindthearchdeacon,andsuddenlyhurlinghimselfuponhimwithfury,withhishugehandshepushedhimbythebackoverintotheabyssoverwhichDomClaudewasleaning.
Heclungtoitwithdesperatehands,and,atthemomentwhenheopenedhismouthtoutterasecondcry,hebeheldtheformidableandavengingfaceofQuasimodothrustovertheedgeofthebalustradeabovehishead.
Hemerelywritheduponthespout,withincredibleeffortstoclimbupagain;buthishandshadnoholdonthegranite,hisfeetslidalongtheblackenedwallwithoutcatchingfast.
PeoplewhohaveascendedthetowersofNotre–Dameknowthatthereisaswellofthestoneimmediatelybeneaththebalustrade.
Quasimodohadbuttostretchouthishandinordertodrawhimfromthegulf;buthedidnotevenlookathim.HewaslookingattheGrève.Hewaslookingatthegallows.Hewaslookingatthegypsy.
Thedeafmanwasleaning,withhiselbowsonthebalustrade,atthespotwherethearchdeaconhadbeenamomentbefore,andthere,neverdetachinghisgazefromtheonlyobjectwhichexistedforhimintheworldatthatmoment,heremainedmotionlessandmute,likeamanstruckbylightning,andalongstreamoftearsflowedinsilencefromthateyewhich,uptothattime,hadnevershedbutonetear.
Meanwhile,thearchdeaconwaspanting.Hisbaldbrowwasdrippingwithperspiration,hisnailswerebleedingagainstthestones,hiskneeswereflayedbythewall.
Tocompletehismisfortune,thisspoutendedinaleadenpipewhichbentundertheweightofhisbody.Thearchdeaconfeltthispipeslowly
givingway.Themiserablemansaidtohimselfthat,whenhishandsshouldbewornoutwithfatigue,whenhiscassockshouldtearasunder,whentheleadshouldgiveway,hewouldbeobligedtofall,andterrorseizeduponhisveryvitals.
Nowandthenheglancedwildlyatasortofnarrowshelfformed,tenfeetlowerdown,byprojectionsofthesculpture,andheprayedheaven,fromthedepthsofhisdistressedsoul,thathemightbeallowedtofinishhislife,wereittolasttwocenturies,onthatspacetwofeetsquare.
Once,heglancedbelowhimintothePlace,intotheabyss;theheadwhichheraisedagainhaditseyesclosedanditshairstandingerect.
Therewassomethingfrightfulinthesilenceofthesetwomen.Whilethearchdeaconagonizedinthisterriblefashionafewfeetbelowhim,QuasimodoweptandgazedattheGrève.
Thearchdeacon,seeingthatallhisexertionsservedonlytoweakenthefragilesupportwhichremainedtohim,decidedtoremainquiet.
Therehehung,embracingthegutter,hardlybreathing,nolongerstirring,makingnolongeranyothermovementsthanthatmechanicalconvulsionofthestomach,whichoneexperiencesindreamswhenonefancieshimselffalling.
Helostgroundlittlebylittle,nevertheless,hisfingersslippedalongthespout;hebecamemoreandmoreconsciousofthefeeblenessofhisarmsandtheweightofhisbody.
Hegazedattheimpressivecarvings,onebyone,ofthetower,suspendedlikehimselfovertheprecipice,butwithoutterrorforthemselvesorpityforhim.
Allwasstonearoundhim;beforehiseyes,gapingmonsters;below,quiteatthebottom,inthePlace,thepavement;abovehishead,Quasimodoweeping.
IntheParvistherewereseveralgroupsofcuriousgoodpeople,whoweretranquillyseekingtodivinewhothemadmancouldbewhowasamusinghimselfinsostrangeamanner.
Hestiffenedhimselfuponthespout,pushedagainstthewallwithbothhisknees,clungtoacreviceinthestoneswithhishands,andsucceededinclimbingbackwithonefoot,perhaps;butthiseffortmadetheleadenbeakonwhichherestedbendabruptly.
Then,feelingeverythinggivewaybeneathhim,withnothingbuthisstiffenedandfailinghandstosupporthim,theunfortunatemanclosedhiseyesandletgoofthespout.Hefell.
Thearchdeacon,launchedintospace,fellatfirstheadforemost,withoutspreadhands;thenhewhirledoverandovermanytimes;thewindblewhimupontheroofofahouse,wheretheunfortunatemanbegantobreakup.
Thebellringersawhimstillendeavortoclingtoagablewithhisnails;butthesurfaceslopedtoomuch,andhehadnomorestrength.
ThenQuasimodoraisedhiseyestothegypsy,whosebodyhebeheldhangingfromthegibbet,quiveringfarawaybeneathherwhiterobewiththelastshudderingsofanguish,thenhedroppedthemonthearchdeacon,stretchedoutatthebaseofthetower,andnolongerretainingthehumanform,andhesaid,withasobwhichheavedhisdeepchest,—"Oh!allthatIhaveeverloved!"
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