BOOK ELEVENTH.
CHAPTER 2. THE BEAUTIFUL CREATURE CLAD IN WHITE. (Dante.)
When Quasimodo saw that the cell was empty, that the
gypsy was no longer there, that while he had been defending
her she had been abducted, he grasped his hair with both
hands and stamped with surprise and pain; then he set out
to run through the entire church seeking his Bohemian,
howling strange cries to all the corners of the walls, strewing
his red hair on the pavement. It was just at the moment when
the king's archers were making their victorious entrance into
Notre-Dame, also in search of the gypsy. Quasimodo, poor,
deaf fellow, aided them in their fatal intentions, without
suspecting it; he thought that the outcasts were the gypsy's
enemies. He himself conducted Tristan l'Hermite to all
possible hiding-places, opened to him the secret doors, the
double bottoms of the altars, the rear sacristries. If the
unfortunate girl had still been there, it would have been he
himself who would have delivered her up.
When the fatigue of finding nothing had disheartened Tristan,
who was not easily discouraged, Quasimodo continued the search
alone. He made the tour of the church twenty times, length and
breadth, up and down, ascending and descending, running, calling,
sbouting, peeping, rummaging, ransacking, thrusting his head into
every hole, pushing a torch under every vault, despairing, mad. A
male who has lost his female is no more roaring nor more haggard.
At last when he was sure, perfectly sure that she was no
longer there, that all was at an end, that she had been
snatched from him, he slowly mounted the staircase to the
towers, that staircase which he had ascended with so much
eagerness and triumph on the day when he had saved her.
He passed those same places once more with drooping head,
voiceless, tearless, almost breathless. The church was again
deserted, and had fallen back into its silence. The archers
had quitted it to track the sorceress in the city. Quasimodo,
left alone in that vast Notre-Dame, so besieged and tumultuous
but a short time before, once more betook himself to the cell
where the gypsy had slept for so many weeks under his guardianship.
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