"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins' 1 Peter, 4:8.
While sitting on the prison floor, La Esmerelda mused that the Archdeacon of Josas' eyes were rather beautiful, they shone a brilliant blue. And seemed to be the only gateway into Claude Frollo's emotions, they might darken with lust or shine a bright cobalt with unshed tears. In fact, the man himself was exceedingly handsome in a compelling way.
However, no matter how much Esmerelda found the older man appealing. He still scared her. The feeling of turmoil brushed through her, Claude Frollo was obsessed with her to the point of madness, his touches burned and scared her. She was 16 years old, he 36. The gap in their ages was one of her reasons for dismissing the man. Furthermore, the only place that she knew and felt safe was the Court of Miracles where her friend Clopin was King, she was also … a gypsy. He was a priest, a Catholic whose Church's teaching on celibacy was restrictive and demanding.
And she still loved her knight in shining armour, her Phoebus … His gold locks glowing like a halo in the Parisian sunlight, his name sounding beautiful on her tongue.
The night before she was to finally meet her maker, the Archdeacon had entered her cell. No one would dare question Claude Frollo's authority, as a man of the church and especially one so powerful in Notre Dame, the guards assumed that he was giving her the last rites, even though she was but a gypsy. His determined but feverish face met hers, in one sudden motion he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her after him, his robes fluttering in the wind. His iron grip did not lessen even though she wanted to pull her hand from his and tell him that she did not need his assistance. But not wanting to appear ungrateful for this hastily executed rescue mission. Esmerelda let herself be pulled outside, the cool air of Paris was refreshing after the putrid air of the prison, and the wails of the other inmates which left her immobile with terror. Quasimodo, ever gentle, Quasimodo had hold of a rather sturdy horse which looked like it could carry two people, realising what was going to happen, that it was more of an abduction rather than a rescue. She tried to struggle against the Archdeacon;
"No. You can't take me away. Not you."
Her struggles were all in vain. The Archdeacon's grasp tightened, almost painful. And motioned to Quasimodo to help Esmerelda up on the horse, she let the other man grab her round the waist, and placed her gently as he could sideways on the saddle, Frollo without assistance from his adopted son swung himself behind her and grappled hold of the reins;
"Thank you, my child. For all that you have done. After you have settled things in Notre Dame, please come to the place in which I spoke of. God bless you Quasimodo.".
The Archdeacon murmured to the younger man. And with that final salutation, the Archdeacon and his charge Esmerelda left into the dark night.
