按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
And then； Phoebus was alive； she was sure of it； she had seen him。 To her the fact of Phoebus being alive was everything。 After the series of fatal shocks which had overturned everything within her； she had found but one thing intact in her soul； one sentiment；her love for the captain。 Love is like a tree； it sprouts forth of itself； sends its roots out deeply through our whole being； and often continues to flourish greenly over a heart in ruins。
And the inexplicable point about it is that the more blind is this passion； the more tenacious it is。 It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it。
La Esmeralda did not think of the captain without bitterness； no doubt。 No doubt it was terrible that he also should have been deceived； that he should have believed that impossible thing； that he could have conceived of a stab dealt by her who would have given a thousand lives for him。 But； after all； she must not be too angry with him for it； had she not confessed her crime？ had she not yielded； weak woman that she was； to torture？ The fault was entirely hers。 She should have allowed her finger nails to be torn out rather than such a word to be wrenched from her。 In short； if she could but see Phoebus once more； for a single minute； only one word would be required； one look； in order to undeceive him； to bring him back。 She did not doubt it。 She was astonished also at many singular things； at the accident of Phoebus's presence on the day of the penance； at the young girl with whom he had been。 She was his sister； no doubt。 An unreasonable explanation； but she contented herself with it； because she needed to believe that Phoebus still loved her； and loved her alone。 Had he not sworn it to her？ What more was needed； simple and credulous as she was？ And then； in this matter； were not appearances much more against her than against him？ Accordingly； she waited。 She hoped。
Let us add that the church； that vast church； which surrounded her on every side； which guarded her； which saved her； was itself a sovereign tranquillizer。 The solemn lines of that architecture； the religious attitude of all the objects which surrounded the young girl； the serene and pious thoughts which emanated； so to speak； from all the pores of that stone； acted upon her without her being aware of it。 The edifice had also sounds fraught with such benediction and such majesty； that they soothed this ailing soul。 The monotonous chanting of the celebrants； the responses of the people to the priest； sometimes inarticulate； sometimes thunderous； the harmonious trembling of the painted windows； the organ； bursting forth like a hundred trumpets； the three belfries； humming like hives of huge bees； that whole orchestra on which bounded a gigantic scale； ascending； descending incessantly from the voice of a throng to that of one bell； dulled her memory； her imagination； her grief。 The bells； in particular； lulled her。 It was something like a powerful magnetism which those vast instruments shed over her in great waves。
Thus every sunrise found her more calm； breathing better； less pale。 In proportion as her inward wounds closed； her grace and beauty blossomed once more on her countenance； but more thoughtful； more reposeful。 Her former character also returned to her； somewhat even of her gayety； her pretty pout； her love for her goat； her love for singing； her modesty。 She took care to dress herself in the morning in the corner of her cell for fear some inhabitants of the neighboring attics might see her through the window。
When the thought of Phoebus left her time； the gypsy sometimes thought of Quasimodo。 He was the sole bond； the sole connection； the sole communication which remained to her with men； with the living。 Unfortunate girl！ she was more outside the world than Quasimodo。 She understood not in the least the strange friend whom chance had given her。 She often reproached herself for not feeling a gratitude which should close her eyes； but decidedly； she could not accustom herself to the poor bellringer。 He was too ugly。
She had left the whistle which he had given her lying on the ground。 This did not prevent Quasimodo from making his appearance from time to time during the first few days。 She did her best not to turn aside with too much repugnance when he came to bring her her basket of provisions or her jug of water； but he always perceived the slightest movement of this sort； and then he withdrew sadly。
Once he came at the moment when she was caressing Djali。 He stood pensively for several minutes before this graceful group of the goat and the gypsy； at last he said； shaking his heavy and ill…formed head；
〃My misfortune is that I still resemble a man too much。 I should like to be wholly a beast like that goat。〃
She gazed at him in amazement。
He replied to the glance；
〃Oh！ I well know why；〃 and he went away。
On another occasion he presented himself at the door of the cell （which he never entered） at the moment when la Esmeralda was singing an old Spanish ballad； the words of which she did not understand； but which had lingered in her ear because the gypsy women had lulled her to sleep with it when she was a little child。 At the sight of that villanous form which made its appearance so abruptly in the middle of her song； the young girl paused with an involuntary gesture of alarm。 The unhappy bellringer fell upon his knees on the threshold； and clasped his large； misshapen hands with a suppliant air。 〃Oh！〃 he said； sorrowfully； 〃continue； I implore you； and do not drive me away。〃 She did not wish to pain him； and resumed her lay； trembling all over。 By degrees； however； her terror disappeared； and she yielded herself wholly to the slow and melancholy air which she was singing。 He remained on his knees with hands clasped； as in prayer； attentive； hardly breathing； his gaze riveted upon the gypsy's brilliant eyes。
On another occasion； he came to her with an awkward and timid air。 〃Listen；〃 he said； with an effort； 〃I have something to say to you。〃 She made him a sign that she was listening。 Then he began to sigh； half opened his lips； appeared for a moment to be on the point of speaking； then he looked at her again； shook his head； and withdrew slowly； with his brow in his hand； leaving the gypsy stupefied。 Among the grotesque personages sculptured on the wall； there was one to whom he was particularly attached； and with which he often seemed to exchange fraternal glances。 Once the gypsy heard him saying to it；
〃Oh！ why am not I of stone； like you！〃
At last； one morning； la Esmeralda had advanced to the edge of the roof； and was looking into the Place over the pointed roof of Saint…Jean le Rond。 Quasimodo was standing behind her。 He had placed himself in that position in order to spare the young girl； as far as possible； the displeasure of seeing him。 All at once the gypsy started； a tear and a flash of joy gleamed simultaneously in her eyes； she knelt on the brink of the roof and extended her arms towards the Place with anguish； exclaiming： 〃Phoebus！ come！ come！ a word； a single word in the name of heaven！ Phoebus！ Phoebus！〃 Her voice； her face； her gesture； her whole person b