It was only the day before that she had arrived into his care. She feared him, she loathed his presence yet had still taken to heart his plight months before. He stared down at her angelic features, wishing he had what she desired so much. It was a pointless wish, a wish that no one could ever grant. The most radiant beauty is something hidden behind something unbecoming; she could not see inside his heart.
The young girl moved as she slept, her arms moving under her head and her legs curling close to her body. He set the blanket on her gently, upon her naked skin. Of course the poor girl would be chilled, the clothes she wore were not meant for warmth. They were dead-mans clothes.
He walked from the small room and began to question his actions. She was meant to die, her bones to join those of thieves and beggars. She lay not far from him at this very moment, breathing softly under a tattered blanket and perhaps dreaming sweet dreams. Had it been a sin to take her? Had he done wrong in snatching her from the hungry jaws of the populace? She was so small, so full of life, beauty and innocence. He prayed he had done the right thing. Were it a crime, he would gladly die for her. His heart ached, he would have died had she been claimed by the noose.
He could not bear to be away from her. He returned to the small room and remained sitting at the doorway, watching her sleep. Everything about her was so perfect, every one of her features angelic. Did she even know she had come so close to losing her life? Would she regard him with even the least bit of gratitude when she awoke? The thought of her rejection was more than he could bear. He had risked so much in saving her, his safety, his wellbeing and his soul.
Throughout the day he left her, only to return soon after. She should have woke, yet she remained in sleep. All the while his thoughts were on what she had been through until now, until he had placed her in this small room on his bed. She was thin, weak and exhausted. Perhaps she had not slept well in days, if not weeks. Now that she was safe and warm, her tired body took advantage of it. She was safe, part of her had to be certain of that.
His mind continued to ache, as well. What would the poor girl think of being in his care? She feared him, and rightly so, after what he had been forced to do to her against his own better judgement. He had prayed forgiveness, from God and her. To have this delicate flower loathe him forever was much to bear, a thought only surpassed by the thought of seeing her suffer. It was he who would suffer, not this fragile young girl.
It was soon evening and she remained sleeping. He carefully placed another blanket over her to help take off the evening chill. He placed the bundle of clothes at the foot of the bed and sat outside the room. He stared at his wine bottle and dinner. There was no point in trying to eat. One thought consumed his mind, the thought of having her with him. The slim chance that she would acknowledge him. She would never love him, in that he was certain. He left her room periodically, but returned each time to his previous spot. He leaned against the red door, staring at the provisions intermittanly. She would be starved for food.
It was early the next morning when he saw her movement through the doorway. Her eyes remained closed. By the way she moved about he knew it would not be long until she awoke from her long sleep. Quasimodo swallowed anxiously, sitting still and unable to move, as she opened her eyes to face him.