Clopin was thunderstruck at the sight of the squat hunchback in his path, seething with rage, but covered his surprise quickly. "Why, Quasimodo, long time no see!" he replied calmly, with a wide smile. "And whatever brings you to the Court -"
"Don't try to fob me off with excuses, Clopin! Don't even think about it! I came down here to see how my friend Curran was and this is what I find! She came down here to get away from bad treatment, not to get even more of it!"
Curran had risen to her feet as soon as she'd heard Quasimodo shouting. Now she approached the scene and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Please Quasimodo, I'm fine! Really I am -"
"You're not fine! You can't tell me that you are! When I saw you just now I barely recognized you!" Turning to Clopin, the hunchback spat out, "What did you want to do, Clopin, crush her spirit like her husband did? Because if you did, well done! Congratulations! Mission accomplished!"
"What are you saying, hunchback? That your little friend can't do some hard work for once in her life?"
"Stay out of this, Vesha!" Clopin commanded fiercely before turning back to Quasimodo. "You have to understand, Quasimodo, the people who want to be part of the Court of Miracles are expected to work like everyone else. It's only fair."
"Work, yes - but this? Show him your hands, Curran! Show him!"
"No!" Curran clenched her bleeding palms into fists, and the sound of her voice raised in anger was enough to silence Quasimodo and everyone else in the Court. "I don't want your pity! I don't want anyone's pity, all right? I wanted to show everyone here that I could work just like they could. I'm not asking for special treatment, my friend, just a chance to prove myself."
"But you've been through enough, Curran," Quasimodo said gently, taking her hand in his. "You don't need to prove yourself to me, and you shouldn't need to prove yourself to them. You've worked hard for them, but has one of them even tried to be your friend?"
Curran looked at the sea of faces that surrounded her and then sighed. "Not really, no.".
"I thought not," Quasimodo said quietly, darting a murderous look at Clopin. "Please, come back to the belltower with me. You've proved yourself, and if they don't want to know that's their problem."
Curran nodded, blinking back tears. "Thank you, my friend. Yes, I will come back with you. Just let me get my cloak and I'll be with you." She took one final look at Clopin, shook her head as if in apology and walked over to her tent. Meanwhile Quasimodo stared at the faces around him with pure contempt. "Oh, don't worry about either of us giving away the secret path to your precious Court of Miracles," he sneered. "We want nothing to do with any of you, ever again!"
Curran rejoined him, and the entire Court watched quietly as the slender girl and the limping hunchback vanished into the tunnel mouth. "Well, that's that then," Vesha remarked to break the silence.
"Shut up!" Clopin shouted, whirling around with such fury that for an instant she thought he was going to strike her. "Just shut your stupid mouth, Vesha, you've caused enough trouble already!"
"What's the matter, Clopin?" called another gypsy man as Vesha shrank back, silenced. "It's not like she belonged here!"
"That's true!" called another. "She was nothing but a stranger, when all's said and done!"
Maybe so, Clopin acknowledged to himself as he marched into the confines of his tent. But the fact remained that through fear at what his people might think, he'd treated her worse than anyone else in the Court. And now his behaviour had ensured she'd never talk to him again. Thanks to him, he and Curran were strangers - and could never be anything more.




"I'm sorry I caused such a fuss down there," Quasimodo muttered as the two of them emerged from the cemetery into the evening air and began the walk back to the cathedral. "I have a really bad temper sometimes, and when I lose it... I really lose it."
"Forget it!" Curran smiled, and squeezed his arm tighter. "To be honest, I was happy that someone else thought I wasn't being treated fairly. I didn't want to say so because I didn't want to look like I was complaining... but it was nice of you to speak up for me like you did."
"What puzzles me is why Clopin didn't speak up for you," Quasimodo said thoughtfully. "I mean - this will sound silly, but when I first saw him asking about you I thought he had a bit of a crush on you. I thought he wanted you down there with him because of that."
"Do you want the honest truth, Quasimodo? So did I."
"You did?" Quasimodo blinked. "So is that why you -?"
"I don't know! I honestly don't know why I decided to go with him," Curran sighed. "I know he was handsome, but it was more than just that... And he was so kind to me up in the cathedral! I felt that I could talk to him and he'd understand - just like you."
"So what happened?"
"I don't know! The very next day when I saw him it was if he'd changed completely - like he was no-one I could ever hope to know. I tried talking to him but he just didn't want to speak. He always had something better to do. One of the girls there didn't like me, she kept giving me all the hardest work and he just looked on without saying a word."
"He's a fool," Quasimodo said venomously.
"Don't say that! I think he had to show his people I was no different from anyone else."
"By treating you worse than the rest of them? He's a fool."
The two of them continued in silence until they reached the Place de Notre-Dame, now enshrouded in darkness. "I've missed the cathedral," Curran said softly as they approached. "I can't wait to see the view from the top of the belltower again!"
"You've got all the time in the world, milady," Quasimodo smiled as the two of them crossed the threshold into the candle-illumined nave.




The next morning Curran waited until Morning Mass had ended and the cathedral was empty before creeping downstairs to pray. This was the first time in a month she'd been able to enjoy some blessed solitude and she intended to make the most of it. She faced the altar and bowed her head. Her first prayer was one of thankfulness that she'd been released from the drudgery of the Court of Miracles, and her second was pure gratitude that she was back with Quasimodo again.
But her third prayer was for Clopin. She knew he was unhappy right now, that he was regretting the way he'd treated her - and for her part, she'd forgiven him when she'd turned to leave and saw the desolated expression on his face. She prayed for him to find peace, even if it meant forgetting her completely.
But why pray for him? Quasimodo's voice seemed to cut across her mind, blocking out the Gypsy King. He treated you like dirt, why should you feel sorry for him?
Because we all make mistakes, Quasimodo, she replied silently. And because if we're strong we learn from them. The nuns taught me that nothing in this world is wasted, even suffering, because with the right heart it can all be turned to good. And I hope something good comes out of this, even if I can't see it yet...
Her thoughts were interrupted by the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw the kindly face of the Archdeacon. "Yes, Father?"
"My dear child, there is a girl outside who says she wishes to speak with you. She says you'll remember her."
An icy claw clenched around Curran's heart. She knew she ought to practise forgiveness - it was expected of anyone who called herself a Christian - but it was so much easier to forgive Vesha from a distance! "Could you ask her to come back later on tonight, Father?" she managed. "I really don't want to see her at the moment - I'm worried that if I see her right now I might say something I'd regret."
"Oh, now that's very strange!" said the Archdeacon, raising an eyebrow. "She said she was a very good friend of yours. Something about you being sisters, or nearly so?"
"It can't be!" Curran jumped out of the pew and began to run down the aisle. "She's here? Here in Paris?"
"It would appear so," said the Archdeacon, a twinkle in his eye as Curran reached the door and cried out in joy.
"Tempest! My God, Tempest, is it really you?"