| BOOK SEVENTH.
CHAPTER 2. A PRIEST AND A PHILOSOPHER ARE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS.
 (continued)La Esmeralda, in the judgment of Gringoire, was an inoffensive
 and charming creature, pretty, with the exception of a
 pout which was peculiar to her; a naïve and passionate damsel,
 ignorant of everything and enthusiastic about everything;
 not yet aware of the difference between a man and a woman,
 even in her dreams; made like that; wild especially over
 dancing, noise, the open air; a sort of woman bee, with
 invisible wings on her feet, and living in a whirlwind.  She
 owed this nature to the wandering life which she had always
 led.  Gringoire had succeeded in learning that, while a mere
 child, she had traversed Spain and Catalonia, even to Sicily;
 he believed that she had even been taken by the caravan of
 Zingari, of which she formed a part, to the kingdom of Algiers,
 a country situated in Achaia, which country adjoins, on one
 side Albania and Greece; on the other, the Sicilian Sea, which
 is the road to Constantinople.  The Bohemians, said Gringoire,
 were vassals of the King of Algiers, in his quality of chief of
 the White Moors.  One thing is certain, that la Esmeralda
 had come to France while still very young, by way of
 Hungary.  From all these countries the young girl had brought
 back fragments of queer jargons, songs, and strange ideas,
 which made her language as motley as her costume, half
 Parisian, half African.  However, the people of the quarters
 which she frequented loved her for her gayety, her daintiness,
 her lively manners, her dances, and her songs.  She believed
 herself to be hated, in all the city, by but two persons, of
 whom she often spoke in terror: the sacked nun of the
 Tour-Roland, a villanous recluse who cherished some secret
 grudge against these gypsies, and who cursed the poor dancer
 every time that the latter passed before her window; and a
 priest, who never met her without casting at her looks and
 words which frightened her. |