- Over here! - Quasimodo exclaimed, hurrying them along.
Frollo rushed after him, panting. He was short of breath from the fast pace he had been forced to adopt to not lose Clopin in the darkness, for the gypsy couldn't care less about leaving him behind. But that wasn't the only reason he was having trouble breathing. Ever since he had been informed of Esmeralda's situation, he felt as if a heavy burden had been placed right over his chest, and the harder he tried not to picture the worst case scenario, the heavier it got.
He finally arrived at Quasimodo's bed edge, where Esmeralda was laying down, apparently unconscious.
- What happened? - he demanded, looking alternately at his adoptive son and the gypsy man, who still looked irritated by his presence there.
- They got here right after midnight. - Quasimodo explain, rubbing his hands against each other nervously. - When I saw her I immediately knew we would need you.
Frollo approached her sleeping figure carefully. He leaned over her and placed his hand over her forehead to check her temperature. She was burning up. Her lips appeared dry and chapped by the fever and dehydration.
- You should have brought her sooner. - he scolded Clopin in a low, menacing voice.
- Sooner? - Clopin replied, annoyed. - I shouldn't have brought her at all! She should be sleeping in her own bed instead of walking the streets during this freezing night!
But Frollo wasn't listening. He was lifting the sheet to inspect her wounded foot, and let out an angry gasp.
- Where are the bandages? - he demanded, livid with rage.
- They got wet. They were useless so I removed them. - Clopin explained simply.
- You idiot! - Frollo spat the words. - The wound was supposed to be covered! Look at what you've done! - he said, pointing to Esmeralda's ankle.
It was alarmingly swollen, with a dark purple surrounding the wound, and greenish white liquid pouring out of it.
- It's infected. - Frollo informed. - That's what's causing the fever. It wouldn't be if you hadn't undressed the wound. - he accused.
Clopin jumped towards him, his fists clenching.
- You hypocrite bastard! - he insulted the judge, who quickly stood up in defiance, his intimidating figure much taller than the gypsy's. - She wouldn't be this bad if she hadn't had to walk here, stepping on that damn wound! But she was so afraid of what you would do if she didn't show up today that she forced me to come with her and didn't let me put her to bed! Hell, she wouldn't even had been hurt in the first place if she hadn't been here because of your prison rules! This is all your fault! - Clopin screamed, out of control, nailing his finger on Frollo's shoulder.
Frollo snapped as if he had been burnt with that accusing finger. He immediately grabbed Clopin's throat, and smashed him into a wooden post behind them. His eyes were burning up with hate. Clopin's face started reddening, as his eyes opened wide and his mouth gasped vainly for air.
- Master please! - Quasimodo screamed, grabbing Frollo's arm in an attempt to release Clopin. But the judge's iron grip wouldn't let go. Clopin's eyes were starting to roll back inside his head, as he was about to pass out. - This won't help her! She needs you now! - he cried, begging.
Those words hit a hidden cold spot in his mind, and Frollo suddenly felt the anger left him, and a rush of worry take its place. He let go of Clopin's throat, who collapsed into the floor coughing and panting.
But, as Frollo leaned back over Esmeralda, the gypsy man regained enough strength to get up and throw himself at the judge's back like an angry cat, willing to scrape, bite and do whatever it took to destroy the man. Luckily, Quasimodo was faster and intercepted him before he could reach Frollo's neck.
- Stop! - he scolded him, grabbing both of his arms.
- Let me go! - Clopin hissed, with bloodshot eyes.
- What now? - Frollo turned again, his expression darkening once more.
- ENOUGH! - Quasimodo screamed, at the top of his lungs. Both the other men stared at him, surprised at his unusual display of anger. - This is not helpful! You're wasting valuable time! You! - he said, pointing at Frollo, whose eyes were wide open in amazement - Do something! Help her! And you – he added, this time facing Clopin. - I think you should go.
- What? - Clopin asked, in disbelief. - No way! I'm not leaving her with him!
- This is my home – Quasimodo stated, staring intimidatingly at him. - You're Esmeralda's friend, which makes you my friend. But if you're gonna cause her trouble, you're not longer welcomed here.
- Me? I'm not the one causing…!
- Clopin- Quasimodo interrupted him, changing his tone to a pleading whisper. - Please. He needs to concentrate. He won't do it with you here. Please, trust me. You need to leave now.
Clopin looked at him, still with his mouth open to reply. But then he looked at Esmeralda, laying on the bed, appearing so vulnerable and weak. He felt a lump in his throat, as Frollo's hands searched inside his bag for medical supplies. He didn't know how to help her, but that hateful man did. He was their only hope.
- Fine. - he agreed at last. - But mark my words – he said to Frollo's back – if you hurt her I will kill you.
Frollo let out a mocking snort at the gypsy's threat, but before neither of them could start fighting again, Quasimodo grabbed Clopin by the arm and escorted him to the exit ladder.
- Trust me, I will be right here. She will be safe. - he reassured him again.
- I'll come back in the morning. - Clopin promised, and with a final worried glance towards the bed, he climbed down the ladder and disappeared.
- What do we do now? - Quasimodo asked Frollo, visibly relieved by Clopin's departure.
- We need to reopen the wound and drain it. I will need my scalpel to cut through the stitches and skin. And more bandages. Do you have any wine left?
Quasimodo rushed to get him all he needed. He then observed attentive as Frollo proceeded with extreme delicacy and caution. Esmeralda groaned softly, but didn't wake up. The fever kept her in an unconscious, almost painless state.
After he had cleaned up the wound, fresh bright red blood stared coming out of it again.
- She's bleeding! - Quasimodo noted, scared.
- That's good. - Frollo explained.- It means the infection's out, and there is only clean blood inside now. I'm going to sew it again.
He then proceeded to stitch the skin back together. With each sting, Esmeralda turned a little in her bed, with small moans of complain, but Frollo held her ankle still enough to finish quickly.
- It's done. - he announced, getting up with his forehead covered in sweat, and his hands stained with her blood.
Quasimodo raced to fetch him a clean towel.
- Will she be alright? - he asked hopeful.
- This should help. - Frollo answered, still concerned. - And the fever is a good sign too. It means her body is strong and fighting. But I don't know if the infection reached her blood. We'll see in the upcoming hours. Right now she needs to rest.
He covered her body with the sheet again, and taking the towel from Quasimodo's hand, he dried his face and hands on it. He looked suddenly exhausted.
- You can go too- Quasimodo offered. - I will stay with her.
- No. - Frollo replied plainly.
- Alright. Then… maybe you'd like to sleep for a while too? I can prepare some blankets and…
- No. - he repeated. - I just need to get some fresh air. - he stated, walking towards the outside corridor. - Call me if anything happens.
Quasimodo nodded, sitting by the bed where Esmeralda was breathing deeply, finally relaxed.
Frollo walked out, and the cold night breeze made him shiver. Or maybe he was already shivering. His hands were trembling heavily, and he had to grab the stone balustrade to keep them from shaking. His breathing accelerated. He had somehow manage to keep himself under control back there, but now that he was alone, the crippling terror was taking over him by the second.
Why was he so afraid? he wondered, trying to keep his composure. Hadn't he just concluded hours before that this whole Esmeralda episode had just been a side note in his story, something that he was ready to leave behind and forget? Wasn't he finally getting back to being his usual impassive, cool-headed self? Weren't all these burning, overwhelming emotions finally under control?
Apparently not, he realized, defeated. He had been fooling himself, and now the truth poured over him as an overflowing river. Ever since she had left the palace, he had been miserable. All he could do was think about her and secretly wish he would run into her, even if he consciously avoided any possible encounters. When he had accidentally meet her at the cathedral two days ago, he had felt alive again for the first time since he had last seen her.
He then realized that he hadn't passed God's test, as he had previously thought. For even if he had let her go, it was only on the outside. He was still holding on to her on the inside. He was weak. And he also realized right in that moment that he would never be able to truly leave her behind. There wasn't enough will power in his flesh and bones to do so. And this was probably why God was punishing him now, through her.
Frollo ran his fingers through his hair, desperate. The gypsy jester was right; this was his fault! He could see it clearly now. It was his own weakness and self-deception what had brought God's wrath upon Esmeralda.
He was pacing back and forth down the corridor, unable to stay still, with a consuming anxiety. The freezing wind kept increasing, as if mimicking his inner state. He looked up at the black sky, completely covered with clouds. Rain was coming, or, by the looks of it, maybe snow. He lowered his gaze again, and suddenly his eyes stumbled upon a stone visage staring right back at him. Her granite eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, as if she was coming to life.
- Notre Dame – he whispered hoarsely, his heart slowing down in his chest. Perhaps it was too late to do the right thing at God's eyes… but maybe His Mother still held some mercy on Hers.
He walked towards the statue with sudden reverence. When he reached her stone feet, he kneeled before them, with his hands to his heart in an honest gesture.
- Beata Maria – he started his prayer, with the utmost respect.- I come before you again … with nothing left to offer. Everything I thought I was has been proved false. I am but a worthless man, a weak, fearful man. That is why I won't ask for your mercy on me. But … - his voice cracked, and to his own surprise, he felt his eyes fill with tears. - Esmeralda… she is different. She is kind, and compassionate. She is authentic. And she is able to find beauty even in the darkest of places. - his tears started rolling freely down his cheeks. - She is the one who deserves your mercy. She shouldn't have to pay for what I … - he couldn't keep talking, his voice was taken over by sobs. He finally let out all the pain, anger, and guilt he had been holding back. His whole body shook back and forth, as his hands covered his face. After a couple minutes, he inhaled deeply and forced himself to keep going. - Please, - he pleaded – let me pay for my own sins. If you want to punish me, I'll accept it. But I beg you… Spare her life. She is needed in this world of ugliness and cruelty. Don't let her die. Save her life, and I'll offer you mine instead. - he stated, in a suddenly calmer tone, as if it had already been settled. His tears ceased as he raised his gaze to meet the granite eyes that looked back at him, indecipherably. If there was any trace of mercy in them, he knew She would accept his offer. It was only fair.
As if it was a heaven confirmatory sign, Quasimodo appeared running through the door.
- Master!- he called, out of breath – She woke up!