She pulled her secret trunk out from under her bed where she kept her father's old cloths that she liked to dress in. She put on her favorite grey hose and dark blue tunic and black belt. Her hair was pulled back in her usual black clip which still allowed stands of uneven hair to fall to the sides of her face. Finally she slipped her feet into her brown boots and threw on her warm black cloak to keep her warm and disguise herself. Lastly she took out a black hat with a white feather. She hide it under her cloak and looked in the mirror. These cloths suited her better.
She then realized what she was doing. She would be going against her father's wishes and sneaking out of the house to go to the Festival of Fools which would be crawling with scheming gypsies and drunks. But the music and shows and art seemed far too tempting. But if she were to get caught... her father was indeed at the festival and would be getting a good look at everyone. Celeste knew it was a big risk, but something told her it would be worth it. Before leaving she stashed a small amount of money in her pocket just in case. Hopefully it was not truly a feast of thieves like her father said. With a deep breath she trotted down the stairs making sure her cloak covered her.
Her mother was dipping candle wicks in wax and Ninette was playing with a doll on the floor. It seemed at soon as she came down the stairs she was opening the front door. "I am going to meet Marquel and Gabriella Mama. I'll be home after noon." She hoped her father had not mentioned her request the previous night. Otherwise her mother would surly suspect her of sneaking to the festival. She practically held her breath.
"They are a nice pair. Just be home to help with super dear." Her mother didn't even look up. Celeste let out a mental sigh of relief.
"Au revior Ninette."
"Au revior sis." she waved and Celeste was out the door.
The weather was perfect for a festival. Celeste slipped on her hat. No one would recognize her. She fallowed the horde of people toward the city square. Celeste never felt such excitement and a serge of cleverness being able to fool her mother. She almost wanted to dance to the square. It was just too bad she knew she couldn't dance. But she felt nothing could bring down her mood. She stared up at the sky to smile at the sun. In the distance were some dark clouds. She prayed they would not come during the festival.
When she arrived at the city square, her lips curved into an automatic smile. Never had she seen so much excitement in one place. Ribbons, streamers, and flags were bright above her head. Wagons with artists and music stood in varies places around the square. People were dressed in costumes and dancing and singing. The whole city seemed to be there eating and drinking and enjoying themselves. The idea that the festival was were gypsies stole and deceived seemed unbelievable. It seemed everyone was only there for the fun of the festival. All worries about her lies seemed to leave her. Celeste too was there to enjoy the festival.
"Behold, I am Jupiter..." A play was being recited near by. Celeste was filled with excitement. She herself felt as if she were acting, trying not to be seen for who she truly was. Staying in character she walked over to the crowd. Near the side mouthing all of the lines was Gringore. Of course it was his play. He had been going on about it for weeks. One of his plays were to be performed at the festival. This was probably what Celeste wanted to see most.
She walked up behind him. He didn't even notice her, he was so absorbed in his play. She looked at the crowd. He was about the only one. No one else was showing much interest, as usual. "Opening show?" Celeste surprised him with a whisper. He jumped being forced out of his trance and glanced at her. It took him a moment to realize who it was.
"Celeste? I can't believe you are here! I am surprised your parents allowed it, and let you out dressed as a man."
"I am afraid they have not allowed either. I am out by my own will, and in disguise. My father is a patrolling officer at the festival today, and I pray he nor any of his comrades will recognize me."
"I hardly did myself. I am certain he will not either." This made Celeste smile and feel more confidant. It was also nice to see a friendly face. To spend a day at the festival with a friend; Celeste could not think of anything better.
The play had not gotten much farther when people began to boo and hiss yelling insults. I was sad that no one had any respect for the arts. Gringore went on stage himself to try and calm them. "Please, please ladies and gentlemen. I offer you truth!"
"We don't want your truth!" someone spat back. Cabbage began flying in the air at him. The actors jumped off stage. Gringore however, fell off. As horrible as the sight was, Celeste couldn't help but laugh at her friend who was climbing out of a pile of hay. She came over to help him.
"Stupid idiot drunkard-" he mumbled.
"Calm yourself Gringore. Pay no attention to them. Enjoy the festival."
"How can I enjoy anything when the work that I have toiled over all year has been spat at?"
"Their opinion means nothing, for they know nothing of art. I thought it was a wonderful play." She still held his arm. He smiled.
"And that is all that matters," he placed his hand on hers. "And here I am cradling another man." They separated. "May today I be crowned King of Fools." Celeste's face lit up.
"I had forgotten! I hear it is a highlight. When does that start?"
"Noon I believe. After the parade comes through and the main stage show."
"A parade and stage show? I can hardly wait."
Louder music began to play from the center of the square. People began to gather closer as a group of gypsies in costume lined up and began singing. "Come one, come all! Leave your loops and milking stools. Coop the hens and pen the mules." She glanced at Gringore.
"It looks like you will not have to wait." She smiled and they both ran to the center of the square. They were lucky to find a spot where they could see. The singing continued as the rest of the performers came together. "Close the churches and the schools. It's the day for breaking rules. Come and join the feast of ..."
"FOOLS!" Out of the crowd jump a colorfully dressed man in purple, blue and yellow with a matching mask and large feathered hat and bells began singing and laughing. Confetti and streamers erupted with more music as the man began singing the song for the Festival of Fools. "Once a year we throw a party here in town. Once a year we turn all Paris upside down. Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown. Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day. It's the day the devil in us gets released. It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest. Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!"
The parade continued through. There was still singing and dancing. Everywhere music roared and gypsies, jugglers, musicians, acrobats, dancers, performers, troubadours, and minstrels danced through the square with the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Even Celeste and Gringore found themselves dancing. A large colorfully dressed gypsy lady tried to charm poor Gringore who had a hard time getting away. Celeste had never laughed and smiled so much. Nothing about the festival seemed wicked as her father has suggested. She had never had so much fun.
But it all seemed too good to be true. A large grey carriage pulled up to the stand were respected officials who can to spectator sat. Riding on a horse to the right was her father who was making sure the passenger got out safely. It was Judge Claude Frollo, a grim looking old man who had a skinny face to match his scrawny figure. Her father always spoke highly of him, but he gave of a aura of wrath and wickedness to Celeste. But now was no time to judge. Celeste had to get out of eye sight from her father or any of the other guards that might recognize her.
She turned to Gringore. He was still trying to slip away from the gypsy who really seemed to like him. Celeste didn't have time to help him or say good bye, and there was no way he could help her now. She would just have to hide under her hat and run for it. She swam through the crowd. She didn't want to leave the festival, just get far from her father. Behind the stand that was facing the main stage was the bridge over the river that lead to Notre Dame. She figured if she could get across there she would be out of sight from the stand and still be able to watch the festival from afar. It wasn't how she wanted to spend her day at the celebration, but it was better then nothing. With her goal in mind, she set out for the bridge staying covered and hidden in the loud crowd.
Most of the time she looked down so her hat would cover her face and she could avoid eye contact with any of the guards. But it was hard to see where she was going. She bumped into many people but most didn't seem to notice since it was so crowded, no one could move. She then heard the clops of a horse's foot steps. A guard was near. Had he recognized her? Was it her father? Celeste wished not to find out. She quickened her pace. The bridge was so close. It was like getting near freedom. She still looked down and could not see very well. Hearing the horse snort made her panic. She took larger faster steps which was like running blind. But the bridge was right in front of her. Once she crossed it, she should be safe if the guard had not followed her.
Getting distracted by thought and still not looking up, Celeste bumped into another person. This time the collision was so hard she fell to the ground. "I am terribly sorry sir," the one she bumped apologized. A breeze touched her scalp. Her hat had fallen off. Her disguise was gone and her identity revealed with her hair. She then looked up in shock. Looking down at her was the person she had knocked into with a puzzled look. It was the main singer in purple and in a mask and hat that had jumped out of the crowd at the beginning of the parade.
He seemed much taller close up, plus the fact she was sitting on the ground. He was a fit young man with a mischievous oval face, a Frenchman▓s nose and black short beard on his chin that was well groomed. He looked very festive. But Celeste felt panicked seeing his judgmental face. It seemed like time had stopped, but actually it had barley been a second when the man began laughing again. "Why, it is not a sir I should be apologizing too, but a lady." Celeste felt sure that now, even a gypsy would outcast her. "What a fine costume for Topsy Turvy day. Best by far! Glad to see someone in the spirit of things. What a fine idea. I think next year I shall come in a bonnet and skirt. Well then, enjoy the festival! Happy Fools Day!" The handsome gypsy then danced with his bells jingling with his movements and continuing to sing and laugh.
Celeste was awe struck for a moment. She could not understand what had just happened. She had been in such a panic, and now, she was being praised for her attire. It all seemed so out of place. She then remembered she had been running from a guard. Quickly glancing behind her she saw no one there. Relief flooded through her. Before her outfit gained any more attention she replaced her had and got up from the ground. Seeing people head for the main stage reminded her of the show. She found a spot to stand on the other side of the bridge that still gave her a grand view of the main stage. Behind the great Notre Dame the angry cloud she had spotted earlier seemed closer. 'Please spare the festival, just today.' she mentally prayed.
As soon as she was situated, the purple gypsy she had bumped into, who seemed to be the master of ceremonies, was on the main stage. His voice reached all the way to the other side of the river. Celeste was amazed at his talent, and how he got to the stage so fast. But she was certain he was her favorite performer. "Hurry hurry, here's your chance, see the mystery and romance. Come one, come all! See the finest girl in France, make an entrance to entrance. Dance La Esmeralda! Dance!"
He disappeared behind a puff of smoke and a beautiful gypsy girl took his place. She was dressed in red with thick raven black hair. The most beautiful gypsy Celeste had ever seen. Her dancing was just as magnificent. Celeste sighed with envy. What she would give to have such talent. But her parents made it clear that low life was for gypsies. Celeste would have to live her life in a house tending to the needs of a husband. Anything, even a gypsy's life sounded more appealing.
The gypsy dancer La Esmeralda finished her performance with a breath taking twirl around a guard▓s spear she had stuck in the stage. It was not surprising her dance was the main stage show. She bowed and Celeste applauded vigorously as the rest of the crowd cheers and tossed coins on the stage. Once again the master of ceremonies appeared on stage along side Esmeralda. "And now the feast de resistance! Here it is the moment you've been waiting for. The crowning of the King of Fools!" He began to sing again. "So make a face the horrible and frightening. Make a face a gruesome as a gargoyle▓s wing. For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!"
Performers in masks were then being pulled up on stage and lined up. Then one by one, the gypsy dancer pulled their masks off. The crowd booed if the face was not ugly enough and they were thrown off stage. There was some strange faces, but none seemed to please the crowd. Esmeralda came to the last one. A short man who was hunched over which a mask of a deformed face with a large nose and a wart for one eye. She reached for the mask and yanked as hard as she could, but the deformed face remained. People began to gasp. "It's not a mask." "Its his face!" Various people shrieked. "Its Quasimodo, the bell ringer of Notre Dame."
It truly was. The hunchback who was shunned from society and forced to hide in the sanctuary of the cathedral ringing the bells. Celeste was never entirely sure if he really existed. Of course someone rang the enchanting bells, but no one had seen him before, Quasimodo very well may have been a fairy tale creature. But the poor embarrassed creature on stage was surly not made up. Instead of being appauld, Celeste felt blessed, as if a fantasy creature's existence had been proven, like an angel appearing. Something mysterious that had never been seen but she had always known was there and made heavenly music.
As bad as the situation seemed, someone yelled from the crowd, "Make him the King of Fools!" The crowd's opinion seemed to change and they all agreed. "Yes, the ugliest face in Paris!" People began to cheer. The gypsy in purple took out the crown and placed it on Quasimodo's head who looked very surprised. "All hail the King of Fools! Quasimodo the hunchback of Notre Dame!" He yelled. Everyone along with Celeste cheered and yelled to the king. He was lifted onto a throne that the citizens carried around the square singing and dancing for his highness. He was brought to the stand in center of the city square near the pillar where people continued to chant his name. Even Celeste was smiling with him.
Again all seemed too good to be true. Out of now where, a guard threw a tomatoes at him that hit the king right in the face. People began to gasp again. Another guard did the same. Soon many in the crowd began to mock the ugly royalty. Quasimodo looked terrified. Celeste's jaw dropped. A member of the royal guard, the honorable group her father was a part of, how could they do such a thing? She felt ashamed for her father. Nothing would please her more then to stop the madness. No, her father would stop it. The justful Frollo would. She waited, but her father and the other guards did not move. "Why are they not moving?" she whispered to herself. Her eyes were locked on her father and the back of his horse. Not so much as a shrug. "Come now Papa, do something. By the grace of God, help him." Nothing.
Celeste was tempted to take it upon herself to act. But a few things were stopping her. Staring at the poor soul who was now being tied and spun on the pillar with garbage being tossed at him, it scared her. To stand in front of all those people, for the deformed devil. He was still just an innocent outcast much like herself, but he frightened her, and she was ashamed to admit it. She did not need to be outcaste anymore then she already was. That, and her father would surly see her if she was up on the pillar. Fear struck her down, and she was certain there was nothing she could do.
The angry laughing crowd was silenced. Celeste held her breath. Esmeralda, the gypsy dancer, now out of her crimson dress and in a purple and white street dress, had stepped up to the pillar with a face of pity. It wasn't until then Celeste noticed how far she really was. She might have fallen into the river if she leaned over the edge of the stone wall. She couldn't hear what she was saying to the poor devil as she wiped away the garbage on his face. But Frollo could be heard from miles. "Gypsy girl! Get down at once!"
"Yes sir. Just as soon as I free this poor creature."
"You will not!"
"You treat this poor man the same way you treat my people!" She spoke boldly. Celeste was taken aback. "You speak of justice but you treat people so cruelly!"
"Silence!"
"Justice!" She then drew out a knife, and cut the ropes binding the hunchback.
The crowd began to whisper and gossip as the latest excitement. And the excitement was only beginning. Frollo snapped to his guards, "Captain," he addressed man next to him and near her father in armor, "Arrest her." The Captain of the guard snapped at his guards, one being her father. They all surrounded the stage. Celeste found herself frozen looking at her father. She always admired his nobility, but was this right? A kind hearted citizen just trying to keep the peace and help the less fortunate? Was that a crime? Celeste still couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something she could do, but nothing seemed to come to mind, nor did the courage.
When the guards had her surrounded the gypsy took out a cloth, then suddenly, she disappeared with the same trick the mastering gypsy had used. "Witchcraft!" People yelled in fear. It was enough to pause Celeste mulling guilt. "Oh boys!" A taunting voice yelled. Esmeralda was now on the other side of the square. Guards ran after her, but she started running through the crowd. "After her!" Guards spread out through the square. This wasn't good for Celeste. The chances of her being seen were very possible with this turn of events. Regretfully she could no longer stay at the festival and see how things would turn out. The festival had taken a turn for the worst anyhow. It was best she did leave.
Shielding herself under her hat, she ran back across the bridge and around the crowd and back through the streets toward home. It was much more difficult than she anticipated. Every step she took someone jumped in front of her. With frustration she began pushing them aside to get out. The crowd was making responsive noises to the chase for Esmeralda. Celeste was tempted to look back and continue to watch, but it was too risky.
But that concern came too soon. A guard suddenly ran in front of her. She was able to halt before knocking into him. But he noticed and turned to her. He looked directly at her. It was Antoine, one of the guards in Astor's regiment. They had made eye contact for not even a second, but it was enough to send a panic down Celeste's spin. But she bowed her head under her head and ran around him. All she could think to do was run, pushing everyone out of her way. Had he recognized her? Maybe not, but running away like that surly made him suspicious. Celeste was sure of it, she had been caught. What at started as the most joyous day of her life, took a turn for the worst.
The sky darkened, Celeste slowed down, looking up she was at a clear street. Everyone was still at the square and she was alone. It began to rain, the cloud came to finish her off. Celeste never felt such sorrow. She never should have gone to the festival. It was hardly worth it. Before people scattered back into the streets rushing home from the rain, she dragged herself back to her house.
Upon arriving at the door she removed her hat and hide it under her cloak again. She opened the door and rushed up the stairs to her room to change. "Celeste?" her mother caught a glimpse at her.
"I am soaked Mama. Getting into dry linins." She yelled from the top of the stairs.
"Oh, I just put fresh towels up there. Do use them, for all our sake. Don't catch a cold, you may give us all the plague."
"Yes Mama." And so ended that.
Getting dry was far from her mind. Even wet, her cloths were the most comforting. Soon her father would come home and she would be scolded. But that was only one half of her worries. Her lack of courage at the festival was eating her alive. She felt more helpless then the hunchback. Bless the creature's heart, whatever happened to him? And the gypsy Esmeralda? At first Celeste envied her dancing skills, but now she envied her bravery. Before changing, Celeste checked her pockets. Ever penny she had brought to the festival was still there. Gypsy thieves would have been the best part of her horrid day.
Celeste dried and dressed, then awaited her doom when her father returned. When he did he was dripping wet. She did not come down from her room to greet him, but he over heard him recalling the festival's event. Ninette jumped up and down with excitement while her mother listening with shock. He in turned dried himself and changed in time for super. Celeste was setting the table when he came down the stairs. It was the first time since the festival she saw him. But he did not glare or scold at her. In fact, he acted normally. Celeste was filled with a sudden hope. Maybe he still did not know.
Super was normal as well. Her father told the stories of the chase again. Esmeralda was now in Notre Dame claiming the right of sanctuary, so no guard could touch her now. Celeste was glad. However, Frollo had placed a guard at every door. The church had become a prison, and for that she felt sorry. As for the bell ringer, he made it back to the cathedral just fine and for that Celeste silently rejoiced as well. They could all agree it was an eventful festival.
After Celeste was told her lies of what she did with Marquel and Gabriella super was finished. She began picking up the plates along with her mother when her father spoke,
"Ninette, be a young lady and go prepare yourself for bed. Your mother and I wish to talk to your sister."
"Oui Papa," she smiled, and dashed up the stairs. Celeste tried to remain calm. Her knew, but he spoke with no emotion as usual.
"Celeste, a fishing family is wise with the weather. Surly they could see the storm coming. And am doubtful they would let their children out of the house with a storm like this." Her mother listened intently, while Celeste was still and silent. "You went to the festival." It was not a question, it was a fact.
"She what?" her mother spun around.
"Antoine saw her, hiding under my old feathered hat."
"I thought you sad a mutt tore that hat up. I gave it to you for your birthday."
"That is beside the point my dear Rosabell. Our eldest daughter has deceived us. And lying is an intolerable sin."
"Celeste, what has come over you?" Celeste was speechless. But it was better to listen to them and have it their way then get in any more trouble.
"I am sorry. Truly I am. I should have listened. I never should have gone. I gave into temptation. I pray for your forgiveness."
"That you will," her father stood up and dropped his napkin to the table. "After Sunday Mass this week you will go to confession and say the rosary at home. Until then you will not be leaving this house for anything. This is your punishment. Understand?"
"Oui Papa,"
"Good, help you mother with the dishes. Tomorrow and until Sunday she will put you to work." She nodded and her father went upstairs for bed. Celeste turned to her mother and helped in silence. Her head would not sink any lower. The shame was just too much. All the trouble and punishment was not worth the risk after all.
Before falling asleep, Celeste lay awake in her bed, thinking of all that had happened at the festival. It seemed like far too much to even comprehend. She just wished to remember one good thing. Any good thing. She flashed back to laughing and dancing with Gringore before having to run. To add to her guilt, she had abandoned her dear friend. It seemed nothing good happened. Before given up and retreating to her misery, Celeste remembered something, or someone rather. The gypsy she bumped into when her hat fell off who did not scorn her for dressing strangely. He seemed like the one person all day who smiled at her. For that, she couldn▓t believe, she was grateful to a gypsy.