E: Had Clopin been watching, he would have been properly disgusted and horrified and instantly destroyed any amorous displays. However, he was too busy having his stab wound treated.
"Yes," Esmerelda said, holding out her hand for the ring. Tingles shot up her arm as their fingers brushed; she dropped to her knees next to him. Flinging her left arm around his shoulders and planting her right hand just below the crown of his head, she kissed him. Long and slow, heated and passionate. She couldn't have cared less about bemusement, disgust, and utter bewilderment splattered across the many faces of her audience.
The girl squirmed instinctively as his fingers stroked her. It turned him on even more. His hands tightened on her as he moaned against her lips.
When he finally pulled away she gasped like a beached fish, her body having suddenly realized that she had forgotten to breathe.

"Well, well, well. The disillusioned wealthy middle-aged white man and the illegal alien little brown woman with more attitude than sense who takes off her clothes for money," the heavy man drawled, walking circles around them both. "Such a perfect match."
"Shame to lynch him without first making it official," a voice spoke up from the crowd. Esmeralda turned to look, noticing that the mob was filled with faces both white and brown. She could not identify the speaker. The crowd roared in unison, hands shooting into the air. Within a few minutes, one man emerged from the crushing mob with somebody else's garish orange pillow and two rings that had been involuntarily "donated" for the occasion.

"Amazing," Es deadpanned. "It looks like I'm getting to marry you after all. But only because the mob wants to have some fun with us before they kill us."
"What I find to be even more astonishing," Claude added in his usual aloof tone, "is that half of Paris is excited to attend my wedding, despite the fact I am offering them no public festivities afterward."
"Face it, you wouldn't have thrown a party even if you had the option," Es commented.

The untouched tranquility of the minister's face seemed much more suited to a man kneeling in Notre Dame than to a man being publicly mocked. He was handling the situation much better than she; his tormentors could elicit no response from him. Esmerelda focused on the minister's placid face, struggling to suppress the anger that the crowd's jeers and catcalls aroused in her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we come together today to celebrate the union of the King and Queen of Fools!" the heavy-set man bellowed out. The mob roared, people shouting and clapping and climbing on top of each other to get a better view. Roofs shuddered dangerously under the weight of people that they were not designed to support, as half of Paris attempted to pack itself into a giant, colorful blob.

"Are you going to tell them they've crowned the wrong fool?" Frollo asked lightly.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!" Esmeralda howled. "We're about to be killed, and you're thinking up witty remarks!"
"Es, look at me," he responded gently. She complied. "Through no decision of mine, my time on this earth seems to be drawing to a close. But it is my decision how I chose to spend these last minutes."
In some bizarre fashion, his logic made sense to Esmeralda. When you're down to your last minutes, you might as well have some fun with the little time you have left.

"If anyone has any objections that these two should be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."
"I OBJECT!" Clopin was clearly shouting, but the fabric of the wagon muffled his voice.
"Oh, shush," the caped man dismissed him. "You need your rest. Somebody pull that wagon farther away; all of this excitement seems to be a bit much for our dear wounded leader."

The crowd made sure that Clopin was well away before the cape guy started rattling off the vows. He cleared his throat before beginning. "Claude, do you take—"
"We are not on a first-name basis," the minister interrupted calmly.
"Attaboy! Ya still wanna be treated like nobility!" a voice shouted from the crowd; Esmerelda could not tell if it was mockery or admiration.
Slightly perturbed, cape guy began again. "Monsieur Frollo, do you take Esmerelda Trolliefou to be your lawful wedded wife from this day forward, for better cause your situation couldn't be much worse, she's poor but your riches won't do you any good anymore…" He was laughing so hard that he had to stop for a few moments. Claude did not move a muscle.
"Okay. Okaaaaaaaay. Back to the vows." Cape guy took a deep breath. "In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till imminent death do you part?"
"I do." His hand gently squeezed hers; his eyes had not once left her face. A sob welled up in her throat at the realization of how much he loved her and how much they were both about to lose.
"And you, Esmerelda—cause you are on a first name basis," cape guy couldn't resist snickering. "Do you take Monster Frollo to be your excessively controlling husband from this day forward, you better be glad you're about to die for you couldn't have possibly chosen worse…" The crowd laughed along with him.
"You'll sadly get no richer," he gasped out, his sides heaving with mirth.
"In sickness and in health," the cape guy paused, "girl, I'm doing you both a favor by killing you. Do you want to spend the prime of your life waiting on some ancient invalid?"

The pointy-toed boot caught cape guy completely by surprise. He doubled over, clutching his groin, and retched in the floor.
"I assure you, Esmerelda does not wish to wait on some invalid." Claude's voice, though level, carried a distinct tinge of amusement. "Therefore, I advise you to clean up your own vomit and kindly remove yourself from her presence."

The crowd applauded and laughed—but they were laughing with Frollo rather than at him. A politician to the last, Frollo kept his knack for working a crowd.
But the gypsy girl lacked the minister's patience. "I'm tired of being made fun of," she huffed. "We can do this without him." She'd witnessed enough weddings to know the words. "I, Esmerelda, take you, Claude, to be my husband." She said his Christian name a little more loudly than the remainder of the phrase, but he did an excellent job pretending not to notice.
E smiled. She could address the Minister of Justice by his first name.
"To have and to hold, from this day forward; for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part!" Her voice broke, hands shaking as they slipped a ring up his finger. The shaking spread through her entire body; her knees were knocking together; she dropped them to the floor in defeat. Eyes shut tight, she felt the minister's left hand close over her fingers, his right soothingly stroking her knuckles. The shaking subsided and she stood.

"I, Minister of Justice Claude Frollo, the high authority of Paris, the dutiful servant to my dread lord King Louis who may God preserve, the strong arm of the Law, the greatest fear of evildoers…"
"Are you delivering an oration, or getting married?" Esmerelda interrupted curtly.
"…take you, Esmerelda, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward; for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part." He pressed the wedding band against the jewel of his own that he'd spontaneously chosen for her engagement ring. "I love you." Bending down, taking her chin in his hand, he gently kissed her.

When his face lifted from hers, Es impulsively grabbed both sides of his head. "Don't leave," she gasped thickly, before crushing her lips against his. Her tongue passionately sought out the contours of his mouth, stroking across his sensitive gumline before flicking against the insides of his sharp cheekbones. If this was to be their final kiss on this side of the grave, by God she would make it count.
Eyes shut tightly, mind completely snared in this web of passion, she was only vaguely conscious of rough hands tearing her from the minister's arms. Not even bothering to struggle as ropes wrapped around her, she blinked her eyes open to see her husband being held prisoner in front of her.

"Congratulations on your new status, Madame Frollo," a voice snickered in her ear. "And it would be a shame to end the festivities so soon. It wouldn't be a party…without…a bonfire."