Doubt:
FROLLO abruptly took his hands off the shoulders of the gypsy as if she had suddenly become highly contagious from some terrible disease. They were still piercing their stares at one another as the minister swiftly stood up back on his feet, at the same time backing up a few steps away from the still on the floor gypsy. He was looking down at her with horror, incomprehensiveness, disgust, panic and so many others feelings that were mingling across his face.
"Get out," he commanded to the maids, when still looking straight at Esmeralda. His voice was full with repulsion and vice and even though he was not shouting it was clear that he was lost in rage. The servants did not wait for a second order; they quickly headed to the exit. Corrine glanced for a second towards the gypsy with pity in her eyes, but left quickly after that. Frollo waited to hear the door closing before he continued, now talking to the girl on the floor: "You are lying," he hissed with controlled tone. Esmeralda's cold, hateful eyes now added disgust in them as well.
"Why I would lie for such a thing," she asked repulsively with trembling voice.
"Then you must be mistaken," the minister said immediately, as if trying to think of all the alternatives that did not lead to the reality of the gypsy's statement. Esmeralda broke her look from Frollo and looked down to her hands on the floor. She sighed heavily, leaving a long pause between the words of the minister and her reply.
"I wish I was, but somehow I can tell that I am not."
Frollo did not say anything further. He was quietly watching the bent down head of the gypsy, and even though he could not see her face he was quite positive that tears had started spilling down her eyes. He observed her for a while, not saying anything, trying to process all that had happened. Suddenly he felt the need to move around; he felt that the room was too small, too dark, and too suffocating. Just moments ago he was feeling content, pleased, as if rising all above the licentious filth that he had been feeling to sink recently. For once he had felt at peace, but then it seemed to him that he was abruptly pulled back down to all that inequities and vice. He directed to one of the windows in the room. He looked outside- it was a warm and sunny morning. Just now Frollo realized that the time he usually leaves his house for attending his daily duties had long ago been passed. He sighed heavily concentrating more on the outside view. The people seemed to be occupied with their daily work- the women were busy circling with baskets in their hands, buying vegetables or bread for their homes, or taking care of their children that they had took outside for a walk; the men were usually in cliques lively discussing one matter or another; and the soldiers, who could be seen around were angrily terrorizing every beggar or gypsy that they could found on the street. Everything seemed in its order and purpose. The world had not stopped functioning without the presence of the judge in it, but he suddenly felt the need that it was essential for him to leave the house and concentrate on organizing the city. He finally separated his eyes from the view outside and looked the gypsy. For a moment his eyes hurt from the sudden shift of light to dark, as he automatically closed them. He looked the girl again, noticing that she had not moved from the last time he saw her. He advanced a few steps towards her wondering if she was still crying. Without taking his eyes from her he slightly turned towards the door and said with a loud voice, suddenly startling her.
"Paulette," for a moment nothing happened so the minister turned more to the door and repeated, "Paulette, do you not her me calling?" The servant came not long after that, as she quickly bowed her head and asked rather unnecessarily.
"Did you call for me, minister?"
"Yes," the judge drawled irritated. He had returned to his usual cold and spite state, but still in his motions and voice a trace from panic and shock were left. He barely glanced toward the gypsy, who had not moved. "Take her back to my room," he started authoritatively and rather impatiently, "I do not want anyone to communicate with her- neither a word, nor a glimpse; close and lock everything there- all windows, closets, cabinets and doors; and after you have locked the door I do not want anyone to enter or leave that room, if even the slightest of these orders is not followed I shall arrange a slow, painful death for all of you. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir," the maid said quietly as she nodded in conformation.
"Good," Frollo murmured as he left the room without looking towards the gypsy any further. Paulette immediately went to Esmeralda, slowly assisting her to stand up and guiding her to the exit. She did not resist any of this; she just let herself numbly to follow the servant not really looking where she was going or why.
FROLLO was absent-minded through the entire afternoon. He tried to concentrate on his work, but the scenes from the morning were repeating over and over again in his mind, as millions of doubts, concerns and questions were screaming all at the same time in his head. How could he have not foreseen it? How could he have not prevented it? What was he thinking? No, it was clearly not his fault. It was the gypsy all along that had made him sunk to that level, to base himself in that sin and filth. It was surely not him to blame, the demon had consumed him; he was powerless against such vice. The Lord had made him weak, weaker than her, but now the minister had to pay for that. The thing inside her was evil, wicked, created from his own sins. What was he supposed to do now? What would be right in the eyes of God? He was clearly punished; the devil had used him to destroy his virtuousness, to corrupt him, to devour him in the fires of Hell, and he had given in. All the experienced bliss, pleasure, and heaven, which he had known while sinning with her, was now returning in even greater debts. But that came to him like a shock, not only his immortal soul was now doomed in eternal flames, but his mortal life as well. What would he do if that became public? It was one thing the fruitless rumors of him bedding an unholy creature outside any accepted unions; that was easy to deal with- a death followed anyone who dared to try to spread it, but all that was real and now there was actually a prove of it. Her pregnancy was a prove of his weakness, of his licentious deeds in the eyes of the others; he could no longer ignore what he was doing- she being with a child made all of his actions with her real. And now everyone would know. What he was supposed to do- that child was obviously perdition. But to let it be killed was against the Church and the Lord- even Frollo could not ignore such a sin. He could not even kill the gypsy- it was against the law and the Christians to kill a pregnant woman, but there was something more- he did not think himself capable to take her death with indifference. However, if that child comes in life, his entire reputation would be at stake, moreover his power would be lost. He could not afford that, and surely he could not hide the fruit of his actions if came in life. What was he supposed to do- if he killed the child he would be judged by the Lord, if he did not he would be judged by the people. But that was not simply a child, it was the product of his sins with a witch, it should have been forbidden to happen. Why the Lord had caused him this- he was faithful; he was virtuous; he was above the common filth of vermin in that city; judging all those offenders of the Holy Virgin, when his only weakness was that he was not made stronger by the Lord. Why God had decided to punish him, to punish his fidelity, his loyal servant on Earth. For the first time he felt he was doubting the Lord's ways.
"Minister Frollo," a rough voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The minister looked around as if he had just now realized where he was. The dungeon was as usual- dark, cold and wet. The torch in the hand of the guard, who had drawn the attention of the judge, was playfully spilling the light from its flames on the old, cracked stones. It seemed as if just now Frollo heard the cries and pleads of the man, who was tortured not far from where the minister was standing. "The gypsy gave two more names and locations of the others with him who trespassed yesterday back in the city," the guard started reporting when he saw the look of the minister as if he had just arrived and did not know anything that had happened for the past few moments. "Will you order to continue with the torture, sir?"
Frollo did not say anything for a while, as if trying to concentrate his memories on what had just happened. He looked coldly towards the bleeding gypsy, and then to his tormentors.
"How many does he claim have come to the city with him," the minister finally asked.
"Only two, sir, but after a few more minutes here the number might as well increase."
Frollo paused for a second time, leaving only the cries of the tortured gypsy to be heard.
"No, that is enough. Take him back into his cell. Tomorrow, along with the other captured trespassers; he will be made an example of for the rest of the gypsies."
The guards started to unlock the chains, which had held him to an iron bed. Frollo was hearing as if somewhere in the distance, far away, the gipsy's cries and curses, but his mind was again consumed with the morning events. He was too distracted to be able to think clearly about his work today and he knew it. He did not wait the guards to escort out the tortured man and to take in the next one. He appointed the head of the guards to continue with the interrogations and left the dungeon.
NOT LONG after that he was on his way in his carriage to the only place, which he believed could forgive him what he had done. It was already late afternoon, and the steps of Notre Dame were full with people who were gradually leaving the cathedral. Frollo felt at the same time at peace and at great anxiety as he saw from the distance the many statues of saints and the one of the Holy Virgin, as if all of them had pierced their accusing empty eyes at him. He closed his eyes and swallowed, as he mechanically crossed himself before leaving his carriage. He left his body automatically walked through the familiar way inside the cathedral, as his thoughts were again randomly taking his attention and screaming in him at the same time millions questions and possible outcomes. Before he had realized he found himself in front of the confession room. He paused for a moment as he looked around, noticing for the first time that the entire cathedral had become empty. Here it was cooler than outside, the large empty space looked somewhat dark, when only near the altar, where thousands of candles were burning it seemed bright and warm. The big cathedral windows, high above the floor, which were as well randomly spilling their last colorful shades of light upon one place or another, made the entire ceiling covered with golden light as if there was a heavenly world just above the darkness below.
"Minister Frollo," a familiar warm, but in the same time unfriendly to him voice snapped the judge out of his thoughts; "the cathedral will be close in less than a quarter of an hour."
"I have to confess myself," the judge returned with his usual authoritative voice. The archdeacon looked him surprised.
"Could it not wait until tomorrow when you always come for confession?"
"No, Sunday it would be too late," the minister replied coldly and impatiently. The other man looked him in the same time suspiciously and with curiosity.
"Have you visited him today," the archdeacon asked after a pause completely changing the subject.
"No," Frollo replied dryly. For a second they did not say anything, as the archdeacon looked at him accusingly, but then he sighed and said that he would hear his confessions. The cathedral was already about to close, but from the moment the minister said that he had to confess immediately the interest of the priest had awakened. Frollo was a devoted Catholic and each Sunday he was confessing his sins, but he was always rather discussing the vice and base of the city as the devil's instrument to push him to transgress the Lord's law. Moreover, in these recent weeks he had not even once mentioned none of what he considered his greatest crimes- the things that he was doing to Esmeralda. In fact he was succeeding pretty well of not recalling her existence at all. There was times when the archdeacon was stressing more than one time if that was all his sins, but after the minister tactically reminded him that the slanders to an official are punishable with death the priest just quietly gave his forgiveness and let him go. But this time was different, and the archdeacon could sense it.
"Forgive me Father that I have sinned," the minister started as he sat in the small room with bowed head.
"Continue," the archdeacon said mechanically.
"I have doubts," the judge said after a pause, "I have always before done what God wants from me and I have never questioned Him. But now I have doubts in my actions, in myself, but above all, I doubt the Holy Mother."
"God works in mysterious ways and we cannot always see His plan for us," the archdeacon said after the minister had stopped talking for a minute.
"Yes, but I need guidance and I am not sure if the Lord can give it to me," the minister replied with his usual low voice. There was a long moment of silence, which the archdeacon interrupted:
"What are your doubts," he finally asked.
"Before the words of the Blessed Virgin were clear to me and I always did what she asked from me. But now they are unclear, I doubt in my power, in Her power. The Lord made me weaker than my enemies and now he is punishing me for that. The demon wrecked my way to Him, dividing it into two paths and I am not certain anymore which one leads to Heaven and which to Hell," the minister paused, "I need your guidance."
"What are the paths, for which you talk," the archdeacon asked.
"If I take the first one," Frollo started looking blindly in front of him, "I would not trespass the Lord's law, but I would submit to a sin and let it spread its ill in the city, in the same time tearing the order in it. It would mean to reject all the good deeds that I have done in it," he breathed heavily and paused. "If I decide to follow the second path I would break the God's law, but I would as well demolish a greater crime and maintain the peace of this city," he stopped, as another silent moment followed. The archdeacon was listening him carefully, as he repeated in his mind a few more times the words of the minister before he replied to him:
"It seems you have already decided which path is the one to Heaven, have you not," he said slowly.
"But could it be right to doubt and trespass a Lord's commandment," the minister asked immediately. Another pause followed.
"Are you asking for my permission," the archdeacon replied with another question. Frollo did not say anything. "Perhaps I could be more helpful to you if you just say what worries you," the priest started, but Frollo interrupted him sharply.
"No, you were right Father, I have already chosen what to do and I do not need your permission. I have doubted the ways of God, but I have never doubted the human laws. I believe that the preserving the order in this city and my reputation as a Christian would be enough to please the Blessed Mother." The minister crossed himself and stood up. Not long after he had left the confession room the archdeacon came from the other one. He looked at Frollo- his expression did not suggest that he was at peace. He seemed rather nervous and tired over something. The priest knew that there was no point of trying to understand what the minister has in mind, now it was left only to pray that he would not harm someone.
"The cathedral is already closed, but you can still go and visit Quasimodo," the archdeacon said quietly.
"No, I do not have the time for him now," the minister returned quickly. He looked towards the altar, the benches in front of it and the lighted during the entire days and nights breviary. "But I will stay here a little bit longer," he stated without asking a permission.
"But you cannot, it is already dark outside," the archdeacon objected, "nobody from outside should be in the cathedral when it is closed."
"I do not ask you," the minister returned impudently, "I am telling you."
The priest looked at his authoritative, cold, but tired expression and sighed heavily knowing that it was pointless to continue the argument. After a pause he added:
"Do you still have doubt?"
Frollo looked down for a second and said with quite, but firm voice: "Yes," and without anymore words he directed to the breviary. The archdeacon observed him as he went there, crossed himself and sat with bent head in the front row directed to the altar and stilled motionless. The priest lighted a candle and wordlessly headed to one of the doors in the cathedral, leaving the minister in the dark, silent and cold cathedral with his tortured soul.
THIS night Frollo did not returned home. Esmeralda spent the entire day locked in his bedroom as he had ordered. None of the servants had visited her, but before Paulette had locked her in the room she had asked Corrine to prepare a basket of fruits and other foods just in case to leave it with the gypsy so not to let her starve all day. Paulette surely did not like the girl, but even though she was treating her with the same impudent indifference it seemed as if she was sympathizing with her condition. Nevertheless, Esmeralda did not eat the entire day, how could she? She was terrified by what was inside of her; she was in the same time feeling disgust and compassion to it; wondering what would happen to both of them. The gypsy was never obligated to take care for anything- she was the protected one, the child among all her people, and now she was with a child, who she was not sure if she detested or not. The thing that was growing inside of her could be just another victim as her, but it could also be another genocidal fanatic just as the pervert that put it in her at first place. The gypsy was not even sure if she would know it. She knew that Frollo would do something to cover his actions and that was what terrified her the most. He would not let her go- that was for sure- so what was left was either to send away the child immediately after it was born or even worse- to get rid of the gypsy, to kill her. That thought was returning over and over again in her mind, scaring the poor gypsy, and making her mad. She wanted to get out; to escape; to have this thing out of her. The entire day she was circling around the room, searching through every crack on the walls, as if one of them would suddenly enlarge and be her way to her so desired freedom. She was getting more and more frantic, as sometimes she was falling into despair, others she was frantically screaming and kicking everything around, scared that the minister might appear from the door every moment and end her fragile life. A thousand images of him killing her were playing over and over again in her mind, as every time it was different- sometimes he was just strangling her to death, others he was throwing her through the window, or even he was sending armed soldiers who were dragging her outside and burning her as a witch. And every time she was seeing the ice cold, vicious eyes of the minister until her last breath.
She opened her eyes and just now she realized that it was already dark. There was no trace of the minister, and she felt incredible pain from starvation in her stomach. She had not eaten the entire day, she had missed breakfast and she had vomited what was left in her stomach from yesterday's food. She stood up from the floor, where she had collapsed, and went to the basket with fruits. Without giving it too much thought she took one green apple, hungrily biting it and nosily started to chew it. After a few more bites, she felt the pain in her stomach disappear and she threw the rest of the apple away among the other mess that she had made in the room. It was almost midnight as she had dropped again on the small carpet aside the bed and before she could realize herself she had finally let the tired that she was feeling throughout the entire day overtook her body and she fell into a deep sleep.
IT WAS a cold morning when Esmeralda, all frozen and trembling, suddenly opened her eyes in alarm as she heard the unlocking of the door. She hurriedly started to lift herself with her hands from where she was lying, so when Frollo harshly pushed the door wide opened and laid his ice cold stare upon the gypsy, she had grabbed herself in a ball on the floor, not daring to move any further. The minister was looking even more intimidating than usual- his silver hair was falling in disorder, his clothes were all rumpled and the dark circles under his eyes had become even bigger and more apparent than usual. He quickly scanned the room, as he saw the turned upside down furniture and all the spilled on the floor things. He automatically looked back to the gypsy as his cold eyes pierced at her. For a moment Esmeralda thought that he would ran and crush her in a second, however when she looked at him his eyes were not angry, his expression was rather cold and indifferent.
"Get up," he commanded with freezing tone. The gypsy mechanically did what she was told. She was trembling and she found that she did not have the courage to look at him. His eyes moved quickly all over her, seeing that the green dress that she was wearing yesterday was still on her, but now it was with dirty spots on it and all wrinkled. "Come here," he said with the same unmoving voice and he observed her as she obediently walked to him. He backed up a few steps, still not putting his eyes from her, and freed the way for her to exit the door. He did not touch her, he just ordered her to proceed to the exit downstairs and as she walked slowly across the house he followed her impatiently, wordlessly observing her carefully during the entire time. When they got out of the house he pointed her to get in the carriage and after he seated himself on the opposite side in it they got under way in silence.
It had not passed more than a half an hour, but for the gypsy it seemed as if the carriage was traveling forever before it had finally stopped. From inside nothing could be seen, and the heart of Esmeralda stilled in terror as she was more than sure that the minister was leading her to her death. It was still very cold morning and while they were in the carriage Frollo had thrown at her a dark cloak with which she could keep herself a little bit warmer, and which after hesitation she had surrounded around her. While they were traveling the minister was not looking at her anymore, in fact he had been staring throughout the entire way the same empty space in front of him. When the carriage stopped and Esmeralda heard the ringing of the bells it hit her as for the first time this morning that it was Sunday. The gypsy was kept in the house for more than four weeks, and until now the minister had been always visiting early in each Sunday morning the cathedral of Notre Dame. That was the only place that he was visiting in Sunday and when he was returning home he always spent the rest of the day locked in his library.
The door of the carriage opened and Frollo exited first. He glanced towards the gypsy for a second, but it was enough to make her do what he wanted. She slowly took off the carriage, now clutching her fingers in the cloak around her. Her entire body was trembling, but she was determined to face her deadly fate with dignity. She was surprised to see that they were neither at some dungeon, nor at some deserted place. They were not even at the gallows. Instead she found herself in a poor neighborhood full with beggars, different ethnicities and street sellers of already rotten food.
"Come along," the minister said with the same cold voice as he directed to the small, dark, but full with strange decorations house in front of them. He waited for her at the door and as she hesitantly followed him, knowing that she does not have much of a choice escaping him in that situation, he knocked hastily several times on the door. It opened making a lot of noise, as a young girl not more than fourteen invited them in. The gypsy thought that the minister seemed strangely familiar to all of this, as he mechanically looked around the street before entering. When he was inside he looked to the still on the door gypsy and automatically grabbed her arm roughly pulling her inside the house. He seemed to immediately regret for touching her as he suddenly dropped her arm.
Esmeralda found herself in a small room with a low ceiling. There were windows, but the millions of stuff hanged around them and the dirt that the glass was covered with made the room look dark and murky. The entire area looked in complete disorder. There were a lot of plants, dried leaves, herbs, jars full with different color liquids or other unrecognizable substances, iron symbols and even death animals lying all over the old, dusty wooden tables, shelves and hangers. The fourteen year old girl, who was very dark and wore only a brown, very poor and torn up robe, had disappeared in another room. However, she returned quickly, appearing from the colorful curtain, which seemed to play the role of a door separating the two rooms. She silently rested her back to the moldy wall next to the curtain, as she waited her mistress to appear.
"Minister Frollo, to what I owe this honor of being granted with your presence," a woman who was still putting aside the curtain hissed with loud voice as she entered further the room. The sudden change of the cold silence startled the gypsy, as the tone of the other woman, a deep, croaking, but in the same time high voice made the frightened girl shiver. Esmeralda looked at the new comer in the room, who seemed to be the owner of the house and the one that the judge was looking for. She was not old, probably in her early thirties, but her posture and the way she walked made her look older and somewhat rather odd. She was skinny; her bony jutting shoulders were holding the loose, white, but with all variety of dirt spots dress, which was nothing like the usual ones. It was very open, almost completely revealing her breasts while she was moving; and as it was sleeveless, her skeletal arms were entirely bare. She wore a lot of wooden and metal jewelry of different colors and symbols around her neck and on both of her wrists and above her elbows. The loose, white cloth on her seemed mainly to hold on her because of the wide, oily rope carelessly tightened around her down waist, which on itself had a lot of herbs and other stuff tangled and hanged on it. Her face, neck, shoulders and arms were covered with black as a crow, long, straight, but thick hair, which was falling around in greasy straws. She had moved closer to her two visitors, and Esmeralda had the chance to see with the help of the many weak and smelly candles placed around the room that even though the woman reminded a gypsy healer, she was with a very pale, white skin. Her head was down, making her hunching her back, but her deep, coal black eyes were piercing through her locks of hair right through the minister.
"Amparo," Frollo drawled with authoritative, cold voice, "I believe it is unnecessary to remind you that the matter of my visit needs to stay confidential."
The thin, colorless lips of the woman stretched in something of a self pleasured, mocking smile.
"But you always do remind me, minister," she replied with the unchanged freezing high, husky voice sounding in the same time sardonic, greedy and joyful. It was still early in the morning as even here the bells of the cathedral were heard for the last time ringing before the beginning of the morning service. Amparo paused for a second, as her eyes playfully circled the room and another mocking smile escaped her lips. "However you have never before come to me in Sunday. What is the matter minister? Are the bells of "Our Lady" not ringing loud enough today, so to draw all their faithful servants in the legs of their worshipped one?"
"That is none of your concern," the minister stopped her sharply, as she shut up and satisfied herself only with a teasing look. However, after a moment of silence as Amparo studied with eyes the companion of the official, the thin, grey eyebrows of the woman lifted with pleasurable curiosity:
"Today's unusual, isn't it," she asked with the same joking gratification, as if knowing everything before everyone else. "I am having the sense, minister, that today we will play with a different toy," she smirked lustfully as she looked again the judge.
"Are you aware of why I am here," the judge asked her with formal voice, but still impatient. She hissed loudly- a high, mocking and wicked laugh that echoed around the small, shady room. Then she suddenly stopped, as she pierced her deep, ink black eyes into the minister, and bitted her downer lip, in the same time letting her lips spill into a libidinous smile:
"Minister, you might be distinguished from the rest of us with many things, but you are most certainly not the first man that had come to me with a girl." She paused, playfully enjoying the product of her words, as the minister remained unmoved, but the gypsy looked Amparo and after that Frollo, changing side between both of them in alarm.
"Then, are you capable of performing what I require of you, Amparo," the minister asked coldly, completely ignoring her expressions and the impudence of her words.
"It would cost you significantly more than our usual businesses," she smirked greedily.
Esmeralda glanced towards the minister again, as she wondered what possibly could be their usual "businesses." She wondered how Frollo could be even able to make a deal with a woman so controversial of everything that he preached as a "holy" and "Christian." How could he even put up with her words without sending her until now for at least one thousand times to the gallows?
"The price is of a small importance," Frollo replied coldly, seeming more and more determined to end up with this as quickly as he could. Amparo smiled pleased.
"And it would be very painful," she added examining their faces.
"It does not matter," Frollo automatically said. The woman hissed again. She turned this time to Esmeralda:
"Darling child, is that your first pregnancy," she asked with rather nice tone, but still husky and high.
"It is her first one," the minister answered without waiting the gypsy to have the chance of thinking what to reply.
Amparo bitted again her downer lip, as her big white teeth showed, and she looked again the official, lifting her grey eyebrow and smiling with pleasurably mocking surprise.
"For the first time, indeed?" The woman did not wait a reply of her teasing question; she turned again to the gypsy. "The beautiful Esmeralda- known truly only by one…"
"Watch your tongue, woman," the minister coldly interrupted her, making her put some control over her libidinous expressions. She looked at him with unmoved, bent down face, however her eyes pierced straight at him. But then her attention shifted again to the gypsy.
"How do you know my name," Esmeralda asked with curiosity, forgetting for a second her worries. Amparo put again the lustful smile on her face.
"But how could I not my dear, your name was all over the city- the famous Esmeralda; the supernatural dancer; the beautiful enchanter. Everyone knew you. They yelled "La Esmeralda" every time you appeared to dance for the pity of the watchers. However, I have not heard this yell recently, but before you danced on every street," she paused looking libidinously for a second to the minister and then back to her. "But recently I guess you have been dancing only in the minister's bedroom…"
"That is enough," Frollo said angrily with louder than usual voice, as the woman immediately shut up, looking at him obediently, but still having the pleasurable smirk on the corners of her lips. Esmeralda envied her ability to be able to annoy the minister just enough to get him out of control, but not enough to be beaten or sent in prison like the gypsy usually ended when she tried to oppose Frollo. "Proceed to your work now," the minister commanded to the woman. She smiled and she turned towards the fourteen year old girl which was still near the back wall as Amparo murmured with a tone that sounded more like a vicious curse than words:
"As you wish, minister, let us now work to clean up the mess from the fun." The woman made a gesture to the young girl, which made her move and went back to the other room behind the colorful curtain. Then Amparo turned again to her two guests: "My underling, Caridad, would prepare the room, please have patience for a few more minutes." She silenced for a moment as her eyes playfully moved from the minister to the gypsy, observing carefully their cold, apathetic expressions, which were now looking in opposite directions. After a few moments she interrupted the awkward stillness, as she laughed loudly and inappropriately and said with her high, mocking voice: "But I completely left my manners in the other room, please to forgive my unintentional ignorance. Please, have a seat," she said as she rather dexterously crossed the room and started pushing on the floor the variety of stuffs that were laid on two chairs near the door.
"That would not be necessary," the minister said coldly. Amparo stopped for a second, looking at his authoritative, but tired expression, than without moving her eyes from him she pushed the rest of the things from the second wooden chair and turned to Esmeralda.
"But perhaps you would like a seat, my precious; you seem rather tired, are you not?
The gypsy snapped from her stare of the colorful curtain, where she had seen the young girl disappear and had been listening since then the noises from arranging that were coming from there. She looked at Amparo, who was piercing her with her two deep, black eyes, but which at the same time were strangely giving her comfort. She glanced for a second at the minister, as if expecting him to answer for her, but he seemed to have let her choose for herself.
"Yes, thank you," she said after she had finally comprehended the question and decided that it was better to do the exact opposite of the judge when given the opportunity. She slowly passed Frollo and sat on the old, squeaking chair. The minister did not even seem to notice her, his attention was drifted in the millions of screaming doubts in his mind. Amparo sat on the other chair, as she observed for a second the anxious and hovered eyes of Frollo and then looked to the gypsy next to her.
"She is indeed beautiful, isn't she," she asked as her mischievous eyes looked at the minister. He did not seem to have heard her. "And not only for her kind," Amparo continued undisturbed. Her eyes moved from the one to the other guest, "yes, she is definitely so much more than any other gypsy."
"Do you have anything against gypsies," Esmeralda interrupted, as she lifted her eyes from the floor and directed them to the woman. The voice of the gypsy attracted the attention of the judge, as he looked at her suspiciously, but did not do anything more. Amparo hissed entertained:
"And why would you ask such a thing, darling magnificence?"
Esmeralda hesitated for a moment, but then said with lower voice as she looked down to her hands.
"Because you work for him."
Amparo laughed noisily, piercing the stillness that was in the room. She looked amused to the minister, who was still staring at the gypsy.
"Gorgeous beauty, I work for everyone that can afford me," the woman started as she had succeeded to control her laughter. "The life, perhaps, had determined to be so that those who are dressed in pale would be my customers and not those who wear dark. For me the color is of no significance, but the weight of their purse. I am even beholding gratitude to some of your kind; it thought me to some of my practices and my father was a gypsy after all."
Esmeralda looked at her surprised. How could she act so indifferent to her people; to be grateful at them, but to betray them at the same time? Amparo smirked joyfully, as she had understood all of her wonderings just by looking at the gypsy's eyes.
"You see, my father once had entertained himself with a girl from the other kind- a white; blond; not more than fifteen, girl," Amparo started with quite, husky, but still piercing voice. "Of course, these amusements always have a tragic ending," she grunted noisily, as she mockingly glanced for a second towards the minister with surreptitious look, but then she turned again to the gypsy. "The gypsy who raped my mother was hanged three days after the incident, but he did not leave her without a gift," she laughed. "The blond girl, whose name was Bénédicte, died during my birth. I was taken under the protection of the doctor that was helping her to bring me into this world, where I served him for the first thirteen years of my life. The medicine of the white man thought me a lot, but you see my "pagan" blood did not play nice with all their customs, so I did not stay long there," she paused looking again to the minister and then back to the gypsy. "The two cultures could have helped themselves a lot if they were not meant for the destruction of one another. But I, my precious one, I do not care for the opposite colors- the only color that I care about is the silver one," she laughed loudly as she noticed that her fourteen year old servant had returned from the other room. "But now, my rare splendor, you should not worry on which side I am, but for the pain that you would experience just in a moment."
Esmeralda looked at her in alarm and incomprehensiveness.
"Poor beauty," Amparo said rather sympathizing, "to get it out of you would be far less pleasurable than when it was put in."
"Is that what you are going to do to me," the gypsy asked as if she had realized it just now.
Amparo looked with surprised mock the minister.
"You have not even told her? What if she minds," she asked with her usual provoking pleasure, but with note of seriousness in her tone as well.
"You do not serve her, you serve me," Frollo reminded coldly, looking straight at Amparo's black, piercing eyes. He could not lay his stare to the gypsy; he felt that he would not find the strengths for this if he did look at her. Amparo impudently examined his expression and then took Esmeralda firmly by the hand as she stood up and gently pulled her to do the same. Esmeralda was looking at the floor, but as she was led to the colorful curtain she suddenly lifted her face and made fast steps to catch up with the other woman. "Wait," the minister suddenly commanded as they had reached the curtain.
"What's the matter, minister? Do you have doubts what service do you want," Amparo said impudently, as her head was respectfully bent down, but her eyes were accusingly piercing the motionless expressions of the judge.
"How could I know that you would not let her escape," the minister asked viciously after a brief pause, as he ignored her question. Amparo's colorless lips stretched into a fake smile, as she lifted her grey eyebrows and said:
"There is no windows or doors back, minister- no one is supposed to attend what is happening there- but if my word is not enough then I guess you could always threat to take my insignificant existence if I do not succeed to guard the toy." She looked the minister maliciously.
"Proceed then," he said with ice cold voice, as before they disappeared he saw for the last time the face of Esmeralda and a single tear going all the way down her cheek and making a miniature wet spot on her green dress.
"SHE screamed a lot," the judge remarked as Amparo had finally returned from the other room and had approached the minister.
"Yes, she did," the other woman confirmed automatically. Her eyes and smile were still having its playful and libidinous expression, but they were far more controlled and rarer than before. "Caridad assists her to put herself in order for leaving- it should not take long. Her body is very young and the stress that it was put through was too great for it- she would not stop bleeding for a while. She would be better to be left to rest for a couple of weeks," Amparo stopped and examined the unmoved eyes of the minister, who were however concentrated at the empty space before him, "and it would be wise if you do not bed her during the time she is recovering." The minister looked at the woman guardedly, but did not say anything more. After a pause Amparo added: "She is too young, usually when aborting a child at that age the chances to have another are highly doubtful." Another long pause followed.
"Good, that was what I wanted to hear," the minister said mechanically. "You did a good job, here are your money," he passed her a purse full with ringing silver coins, which she took.
Amparo stared at it for a moment, as they both remained silent. Finally, her dark eyes pierced back at him and she said with mocking, sour smile:
"She is indeed beautiful; the creation would have been rather pretty."
"Nothing positive could have come out from sins," Frollo said with bitterness in his voice.
"Love is not a sin," Amparo objected spilling her lustful smile along her pale face. The minister looked at her coldly.
"I do not love her," he returned viciously.
"Perhaps no, but you care enough for her for not just killing her- it would have been a lot much easier and most certainly less expensive," the woman said with husky voice.
"I am just not ready for not having her," the minister said with unchanged tone.
"But is that not love," Amparo grunted teasingly as at the same time the curtain opened.
The young servant girl walked in first followed by Esmeralda who was entirely laying her body upon Caridad. Her face looked red and wet, there could be seen spots of blood on her dress and she seemed barely capable of walking. Gradually they reached the others, with lots of suppressed painful expressions of the gypsy who did not wanted to show her weakness even though it was more than obvious. Esmeralda succeeded of supporting herself to a wooden table nearby as Caridad slowly removed her from herself letting her to be supported by the old furniture. The gypsy dropped exhaustedly her head down, facing the floor, and started breathing heavily, compensating for the lost air that she had experienced while trying to walk that distance. The others stayed stilled for a while and after it seemed she had succeeded to catch up her breaths, Frollo approached her taking her carefully by the arm ready to walk her outside the house. She suddenly jumped, gathering all her left strength and weakly pushed him off her. She looked him spitefully with her green, tortured eyes under her knitted dark eyebrows, and with curved lips expressing great disgust. He observed her unmoved as she slowly succeeded to push herself from the table, barely managing to balance herself and made an unsuccessful attempt to make a step. She collapsed back on the furniture grabbing it tightly to succeed of not falling completely on the floor.
"Do not be foolish, child," Amparo commanded, stressing more on the seriousness of her voice, "you can barely stand on your feet. Do not deny a support without which you cannot move."
Esmeralda looked strangely the woman, but put her head down after that, giving in her defense. Frollo approached her again with the same cold indifference as he firmly held her giving her far stronger support than the fourteen year old girl. He almost carried her to the way out and to the carriage, where he carefully put her to lay comfortably as much as she could. Not long after that the carriage got under way and the gypsy felt how her mind was gradually drifting away into sleep, abandoning her weak body.
IT HAD become already dark when they arrived back at the house. Esmeralda had fight to stay awake as much as she could during the way, but she was giving in more and more, so when they had finally stopped she was half awoke half asleep. She felt strong arms going under her head and knees, and after a second it seemed to her as if she was floating into the air. The door of the house was opened by Paulette, who despite of the late hour was not asleep yet. Corrine was as well there as they both observed the minister coming in and carrying in his arms the exhausted gypsy. Esmeralda seemed not completely responsive, but she was surely not completely unconscious either. Perhaps she knew what was happening around her; perhaps she knew that she had let herself in the arms of the person who just moments ago she was determined never to let touch her again; perhaps she just did not have the strength or the choice to object him, but nevertheless, she had let herself being carried.
The servants walked before them with candles as they climbed up the stairs and the minister made them a sign to open the guestroom next to his. Corrine opened it, discretely changing a quick look with the other servant, as she pushed the door and made way to the minister to enter with the gypsy. They stayed on the door as he cautiously put her into the bed and as he made sure that she was still pretty inactive he turned to the two maids. He ordered them to take her night gown from his bedroom and to change her, as he stressed to them to be very careful with her. They did as told and while they were dressing her he waited outside the room, fixed his eyes in the empty darkness. Esmeralda did not seem to object the servants, who quickly changed her, taking the dirty green dress off her and putting on her the white night gown. They carefully covered her with the soft, fresh blanket and sheets. When they were on their way out the minister told them to take the dress with them and to make sure to be cleaned and ready for her when she wakes up in the morning. They nodded in conformation and left, leaving the one burning candle with Frollo and taking the other to light their way downstairs. The minister stood up on the exit staring at the gypsy for a while, as the candle flame was playfully moving creating the sense of many creeping shadows on the walls. Esmeralda suddenly turned aside, facing the wall opposite to the door.
"Esmeralda," the minister murmured into the darkness, as he sighed heavily, "I am sorry."
The gypsy was conscious enough to hear him, as she opened her closed eyes, gradually seeing how the light behind her disappeared as the door closed and she attended the fading away steps of the minister. She blinked several times focusing on the darkness before she closed them again in exhaustion. While she was finally surrendering into the so needed sleep one thought was staying with her- He did not lock the door.
