I'm sorry it's been so long! please forgive me?

Hello again. It has been some time, yes? I'm sorry, but life is not inclined to wait, no matter how fascinating the story. Clopin will continue from where I left off last time.

It had been weeks since we had visited Jeanne and Chante, the older sister. All our mother would tell us was that it was too dangerous to go to the market anymore. That we could be arrested simply for being there and buying things. Ah, mon dieu, twas a terrible time to be gypsy. People would spit at us for walking down the street. But, my story continues on from this dark time, with a little ray of something akin to hope.

"Marie! Open up! Before I knock down this door!" Jeanne whispered hoarsely, knocking as loud as she dared. She knew damn well why Marie had been keeping herself and the kids locked up here. It wasn't safe for gypsies on the streets of Paris anymore, even decent ones who'd been living here longer than the guards arresting them. Under the new judge, anyone who looked even slightly out of place was under suspicion.

"Come in, come in," the door opened, and Jeanne heard the whisper. Surreptitiously, she slipped inside. "Jeanne. Dieu merci, your safe. How is Chante?"

"Fine, we're fine Marie." She looked around the house curiously, noting the half finished dress in one corner, and the bread dough rising on the counter. She took a deep breath, and turned back to face the round, middle aged woman. She was only fourteen. How could she possibly- No. She would not think like that. Something needed to be done, and she would help.

"We need to ask a favor." Marie's hands stopped, and shrewd, world-wise eyes found the younger face. "We're calling a meeting of as many gy-" She swallowed, remembering Marie's distaste for the name, "As many Gypsies as possible. Something needs to be done. Not everyone has safe walls and thick doors to keep the Guardsmen out."

Marie's eyes flicked away, guilty. She knew that things couldn't continue the way they had been, but she still feared getting caught if she left.

"When." "Tonight, the basement of the old Theatre." Deep sigh. "If I am caught, what will happen to Clopin and Esmeralda?" Jeanne's blue eyes met her brown ones honestly.

"We will not abandon them, ever."

"I will be there."

Clopin leaned back, away from the doorway, his eleven-year old face screwed up in anger. His mother was going to be leaving tonight, and he would bet good money that he and Esme would get left behind. Of course, she couldn't go along. She was eight, much too young for such important talks, but to his mind he was plenty old enough. The indecency of it all! Getting left behind! He wouldn't just sit back and let his mother get caught or something. So, he formed his plan.

He pretended to sleep, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, all the while thinking about his plan. Focusing, he heard his mother move here and there around the house, and mutter in annoyance when something jingled. Every nerve in Clopin's body was alive with curiosity, but he could not go check. If he did, she'd know he hadn't been sleeping, so he held himself as still as possible. After an eternity, the big front door squeaked open, and closed. Instantly, he was up on his feet, whipping on his clothes as silently and quickly as he could. Esmeralda was sleeping right next door, after all. Therefore, imagine his shock when he crept downstairs, just to see Esme standing there, waiting for him.

"Where's Mother going?" She whispered, peering at him through the dark.

"To a Gypsy Meeting." Clopin was about to send Esmeralda back to her bed, to sleep, when he saw the joy on her face.

"Really? You're going, right? Can I come? Please?" She was so excited, he simply couldn't find it in his heart to turn her down. Those big green eyes.

"Fine. Grab your stuff." She always had a bundle that she kept with her. It had food, clothes, her favorite doll, everything really important to her. An aftereffect of her years on the street, Clopin thought. She carried it with her everywhere.

The found their way easily, simply because everyone else who was out that night was also headed there. The old theatre was filled with people, chattering dark skinned gypsies. Esmeralda leaned closer to Clopin and stared at the multitudes, her eyes wide. A few moments after they got settled, a thin, lithe figure vaulted onto the stage. She turned to help someone else, an older girl, up behind her.

"Everyone!" The crowd settled slowly, focusing itself on the two. "You know why we've called you here. Things can't continue the way they have. Senseless arrests? No trial, no crime, only punishment? Someone has to stand up to them!" Her voice was strong, but there were voices of dissent among the crowd.

"Lookit ye, jest a kid. What can ye do t'help us? An' why'd you want to?" Voices yelled from the crowd.

"There is a place. Me and my sister have rights to it as our own, from our father." The dark girl yelled back. Clopin saw Chante put her hand on her sister's shoulder, and he recognized her expression as worried. Jeanne smiled slightly.

"If there is a place, would you go? Not just brigands and thieves, but honest people, too? Start up our own market, of sorts?" The response was uproarious. Gypsy mothers, decent people, who'd been unable to work or buy food for months yelled as loud as they could in agreement. It took a long time to let the cry die down, but when it did one man stood up from the crowd. He looked at the sisters carefully, his face strong and proud. A leader.

"If there is such a place, we will go." His voice rang with the conviction of the entire room.

"How many of you are on the streets?" Chante's voice was smooth and clear. "Try to find somewhere else to stay. The home of a friend, for example. Rough types will be filling the streets tonight." This announcement caused a stir among the gypsies, but they settled quick enough. Slowly, they began to trickle out in groups of two to five. The Leader stayed at the front, and a few other gypsies came up to talk to the sisters as well. Clopin and Esme snuck outside, and realized promptly that they were totally lost.

Boys, older, tougher boys collected in one corner, clearly waiting for someone. Clopin recognized Jeanne when she walked outside, because he'd seen the Thief's jaunty walk before. The Thief walked with Chante, introducing her to the gang who awaited them. All the boys treated her as an equal lad, and headed out after being joined by a large group of armed gypsy men. Jeanne led the mob. The children followed, fascinated by the bubbling group of men. They followed all the way to the gates of the cemetery. There, they paused, Esme tugging on Clopin's sleeve a little. She wanted to go in there, too, but she was worried. Instead of going home, however, they waited for a moment before slipping down after the big people. There were loud voices, protesting male voices, and the children followed them further into the sewers.

"Look, all of you have a choice. You can leave, or you can stay if you swear to abide by our laws." Chante was polite, reasonable. The male voices still muttered though, until one spoke up, yelling above the crowd.

"An' 'ow do we know yer really 'is kids?"

Another male voice responded.

"Ye've got eyes, dontcha? They've got the mark."

Clopin and Esmeralda crept foreward in the tunnel until they could see the room. Jeanne was pulling down her sleeve over her forearm, covering something. Big, rough men stood in a semicircle around the gypsies. Their tents were there as well, but most of the huge room was empty, and dark. Just as the children reached the entrance, the men seemed to make up their minds. About half grudgingly went and tore down their tents, packing up and leaving under the stern eye of the gypsy men. The other half went off with Chante. The Thief and her gang of boys headed back to the tunnel that Clopin and Esme hid in.

"What have we here?" Clopin nearly jumped out of his skin when the boy spoke from right behind him. A strong hand clamped around his collar and lifted him off his feet. No matter how much he struggled he couldn't get away. The older boy grabbed Esmeralda's arm, and dragged the two of them out, where the Thief could see them.

"Caught 'em sneaking around." He told the Thief when she raised an eyebrow at his unusual baggage.

"Huh. Well, put them down. I know these two." Clopin was set gently back on his feet, and he brushed at his clothes unhappily. His mother would kill him if this tunic was dirty tomorrow. The Thief surveyed them both slowly before turning to the gang.

"You four, come with me. I need to get these two rascals home, before their mother finds their beds empty." The boys nodded, including the big one who'd picked Clopin up earlier.

As they walked, he introduced himself as Pierre, and apologized for earlier. They both forgave him. The Thief took them through several back roads and alleyways, until Clopin began to recognize the neighborhood they here in.

"Nice area." Pierre noted, "But does it always smell like fire?"

It was true. The air was smelling smokier and smokier the closer they got to home, but it wasn't until they rounded the corner that Clopin realized what was burning. Their home was engulfed in flame, and their mother stood in front of it, tears running down her face. Men on horseback stood on either side of her. One held a torch. He was a thin, pale man with hard features. His eyes never moved from their mother's face. Clopin started to run foreward, his face contorting with anger, but for the second time that day he was picked up, lifted off his feet, and one of Pierre's hands clamped over his mouth. They slipped back quietly, The Thief holding Esmeralda and Pierre carrying Clopin.

The last thing that Clopin heard was the pale man saying loudly, to everyone,

"The ground is purified of the Gypsy's contamination. She will be brought back to the palace of justice for questioning."

With that simple statement, he tugged on the rope tied around their mother's wrists, and rode away.

Esmeralda cried, holding tight to her bundle of things, everything they had left. Eleven year old Clopin glared after the pale man on his black horse, and for the first time felt Hatred.

That is as much as I can tell you tonight. Tomorrow perhaps, you will hear more. Certainly, there will not be as long a wait this time.