BOOK SECOND.
CHAPTER 7. A BRIDAL NIGHT.
(continued)
"A man."
"And I--" said he, "what, then, am I?"
"A man has a hemlet on his head, a sword in his hand, and
golden spurs on his heels."
"Good," said Gringoire, "without a horse, no man. Do
you love any one?"
"As a lover?--"
"Yes."
She remained thoughtful for a moment, then said with a
peculiar expression: "That I shall know soon."
"Why not this evening?" resumed the poet tenderly. "Why
not me?"
She cast a grave glance upon him and said,--
"I can never love a man who cannot protect me."
Gringoire colored, and took the hint. It was evident that
the young girl was alluding to the slight assistance which he
had rendered her in the critical situation in which she had
found herself two hours previously. This memory, effaced by
his own adventures of the evening, now recurred to him. He
smote his brow.
"By the way, mademoiselle, I ought to have begun there.
Pardon my foolish absence of mind. How did you contrive
to escape from the claws of Quasimodo?"
This question made the gypsy shudder.
"Oh! the horrible hunchback," said she, hiding her face in
her hands. And she shuddered as though with violent cold.
"Horrible, in truth," said Gringoire, who clung to his idea;
"but how did you manage to escape him?"
La Esmeralda smiled, sighed, and remained silent.
"Do you know why he followed you?" began Gringoire again,
seeking to return to his question by a circuitous route.
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