The next morning we woke up snuggled up in bed. It was my first night as Quasimodo's wife. Suddenly all past events seemed so incredibly far away to me ... Now the last step was done and I was now completely part of this world. I had always longed to meet Quasimodo one day. But this far exceeded my imagination. Maybe it would even be possible that we would have a family in a year. I knew Quasimodo was concerned that the children he would be father of would look like him. I wanted to try to take his fear away, somehow.

After breakfast, Quasimodo swung himself up to the bells while I took myself a rag and then descended the steps to do my work.

I wasn't thinking of anything bad when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned my head and saw Gringoire, the poet, standing behind me.

"Are you back here?" I asked.

"Yes, unfortunately it was difficult for me to find a job in Reims. Perhaps you know whether you need a clerk in the cathedral," said the poet.

"You should ask the archdeacon that, not me," I replied coldly.

"He is not here. I heard that he was ordered to Plessis-lès-Tours. The king is doing very badly, he has locked himself up there and hardly receives anyone. Apparently there has to be some persuasion", he said Poet.

"I know," I said and then thought to myself: He will die in the coming year.

"How do you know that? Everything should be kept secret so as not to cause a riot in the city.", Gringoire said.

"If you know about it, it won't be a secret for much longer," I said.

"What? How dare you?" Said the poet indignantly and then went back out of the cathedral with his head held high.

I just thought: What a complete idiot. After all, he is partly to blame for Esmeralda's death. If he hadn't gotten into Frollo's plan to get her out of the cathedral ...

I continued my cleaning chores growling, until I registered a touch on my hip. I turned my head again and Quasimodo stood behind me.

"What's going on?" He asked me slowly.

"Nothing," I said and continued wiping the statues in front of me. Then I hit the halo of a figure with my hand and it broke off and fell to the ground.

Brother Martin had seen this and crossed himself: "That is an omen!" He exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the wooden halo.

"It can certainly be reattached," I said.

"With glue.", Quasimodo said and immediately ran to get the glue.

"You had better be on your guard!", The brother reprimanded me, "These statues are much older than any person on earth and more valuable than you can imagine."

"Um ... you think the earth is flat, don't you?" I asked with a shrug.

"Of course, this Christopher Columbus is insane, you can't believe his theories," said Brother Martin.

"As you think.", I said and went on to the next statues to clean them up. At that moment Quasimodo passed me, I handed him the halo and he reattached it to the statue where it had broken off.

Brother Martin had watched Regina whenever possible since she first entered the cathedral with her friend. Most of the time, the two women hadn't noticed him at all. The two women struck him as very strange from the start. And when one of the two disappeared overnight and not a word was said about her, Brother Martin was more than just skeptical. He had overheard Regina talking to the poet. How could she have known of the grave condition of the king? She had been in Reims when the 1st message was brought into the cathedral. And as she had just spoken, as if she knew that the earth was not a disk, but round, as this Columbus said it was. He suspected that she was in league with dark forces, but he still had no solid evidence. The halo could have been one if the gullible bell-ringer hadn't put it back on. Brother Martin had to continue to watch them patiently, maybe then he would get another chance for proof. He turned away from the statue, now back in its halo, when a bleat caught his attention. A goat came running through the cathedral and ran towards Regina. The goat rubbed its head against Regina's leg to get her attention.

"Djali, did you run away from Pierre?" She asked the goat.

The goat bleated again.

"Would you like to see Quasimodo?" Asked Regina and the goat nodded her head.

"Well, come on then.", Said Regina, took Djali on the leash that hung around her neck and walked along the cloister that Quasimodo had previously run down after he had fastened the halo.

"That's it ... she's talking to the goat from that gypsy!" Said Brother Martin and pulled an evil grin.

I took Djali to Quasimodo, who was cleaning the cathedral's stained glass windows. Soon it was Easter when the cathedral should shine in all its splendor. Since Quasimodo is the only one who climbs this high, he is also the only one who could work as a window cleaner. Everyone was madly busy cleaning, everything should look like new built when the archdeacon will return from his visit to the king.

I tossed my rag to Quasimodo to get his attention. Shouting and screaming is of no use because of his deafness.

Quasimodo looked at me, saw the goat, and then came down to us. He handed me my rag that I had tossed to him and then he said hello to the goat.

"You're back here.", Quasimodo said and hugged the goat warmly. The goat bleated happily and nestled its head against his chest. This picture briefly aroused my jealousy again, because I knew what Quasimodo had in common with Djali. I exhaled briefly and the feeling disappeared again when shortly afterwards Gringoire came running into the cathedral and excitedly called Djali's name. She had obviously run away from him.

"Djali, you naughty goat! Do you want everyone to see you here in Paris?" The poet swore.

"Stop talking to her like she's a human. She's an animal and has her own instincts to follow," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Gringoire angrily grabbed the leash around Djali's neck and dragged the protesting goat out of the cathedral.

He's sure to want to hide her in the court of miracles. Let's hope Djali is not recognized, after all, she is a fugitive goat condemned to death. I thought as I watched them go.