Yay, this one is longer. Compared to that Feast of Fools chapter though, all these literally fall short. But I am sure my very few readers will like this one. Um, reviews would be nice, s'il vous plaît... which reminds me, overload of simple french in this chapter. Its easy to figure out, mostly my lady, miss, sir, good evening and good night. I don't even take french, I get this stuff online.
The quiet on the cobblestone streets was relaxing. A waning moon provided more then enough light and gave the city a calming glow. The midnight air was chilling. Celeste wrapped herself tightly in her cloak. The large city seemed even bigger without the bustling citizens. Being alone was exactly what Celeste felt she needed. Solemnly she walked down the streets wanting to go anywhere familiar, for home no longer felt like that.
She found herself in the city square in front of Notre Dame. The moon bathed the square in an enchanting blue and silver. It was like nature's stain glass as the light missed certain shadows. Not a soul was in sight nor made any sound. As relieved as Celeste was, a certain oddness filled her with the silence and absence of life. The thought of possibly returning to her home struck her, but she did not feel ready. Walking among the streets alone began to scare her. She wished to find a nice place to sit and ponder.
The perfect place was right in front of her. The stone bridge crossing the river sat silently looking rather inviting. She walked over to the bridge and hopped up on the ledge to lie down on the cold stone and look up to the glittering winter sky. Her arms served as a pillow behind her head. She felt a special solitude on the ledge staring up to the heavens. There was a soothing magic on that bridge. Tilting her head back, she could see the tall gothic bell towers of the cathedral and the beautifully designed front. Paris had never felt like home to her. She never fit in among the natives and was so used to the freedom of the Tuscan fields.
But Celeste felt a relationship with her and Notre Dame. When she lived in Italy her father always spoke of the great city where he was raised. The stories of Notre Dame always fascinated her. The beauty he describe seemed unreal and like a fairy tale. When she arrived in Paris and the existence of the mystical cathedral was proven Celeste was amazed. Being there next to it made her feel not as alone anymore. Like the cathedral was there with her. Whenever she crossed that bridge to the holy house of God, she felt as though she was transported. That bridge was like a portal between one world and the next. From city to sanctuary. Being between the two on the ledge was magical, caught between worlds. That bridge became Celeste's safe haven.
The stillness of the night and calming blessing from Our Lady soothed Celeste and relieved her of all her current problems. She had thought enough of obedience, properness, and the law. Celeste wished to retreat into her own mind glazing at the stars and pray all problems would solve themselves, for Celeste did not feel the need to solve them at the time. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, taking in the moment, the feeling of peace, something she had not felt in a long time.
"Bonsoir manquer," a man spoke suddenly breaking the serenity. Celeste jolted up from laying down and sat up right, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She turned to look down below the bridge. The handsome gypsy she had run into twice now emerged from under the bridge giving her a friendly smile. Only this time he was dressed in a purple and blue suit and hose instead of his colorful festival and puppet suit. His mask was now gone revealing his dark eyes, but his feather hat was still present. The absence of his bright jingling suit gave him a mien of sophistication, or at least compare to his other suit.
He continued to walk up from underneath and onto the bridge. "Enjoying the moon? I fear I may have intruded."
"Then you have much to fear gypsy," Celeste snapped. She had a feeling she was more scared the he was. What did this gypsy want? Was her there to rob her? Steal her? Or worse. Celeste was unsure of what to do. She knew he was not to be trusted.
"My apologies madam," he did a slight bow. "It just seems we have grown rather fond of bumping into one another." He leaned against the bridge crossing his arms.
"Pure coincidence monsieur. However I doubt this time you are here to entertain me with dancing or puppets."
"I am afraid not my lady. I am here just to admire Paris's natural beauty. It is the best time, when the streets are empty and my moon shines brighter than the sun. It is around this time here I tend to my daily contemplating under the bridge outside Our Lady."
"It is breath taking..." Celeste agreed, getting lost in the sky's lights. But she came back to her senses, remember she was in the presence of a beggar. "Well then gypsy, I feel I should take my leave..."
"Come now, I think we have known each other long enough for you to stop calling me by my title, gypsy. Allow me to introduce myself..."
"I don't think that is necessary."
"It isn't?"
"A gypsy and the daughter of a hard working well respected family should not become too friendly and call each other by name."
"A respected family that allows their daughter to dress like a man?" he pointed out. Celeste had forgotten she had been out of formal gender dress. A blush spread across her face.
"Oh, mercy me. You must find me rather strange now, catching me twice out of a lady's proper attire."
"I am under the impression a gypsy like me is not a liberty to judge a lady of your status." He smirked. Celeste felt guilty and humiliated. How could she have been so rude when all he had done was be very polite? He then removed his hat and did a full bow. "Clopin, King of Beggars."
Celeste was in awe. She was sitting in front of unofficial royalty, and still she was unsure if she should bow down before him. There she claimed to be the daughter of a higher family and he introduces himself as a king. Of all the gypsies she had to be acquainted with it, it was her luck it would be the ruler of them all. But what does this mean? Is he higher then her? Does this give him more power over their situation? And why was a king of a race introducing himself to her?
Celeste felt too overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. She felt she had enough time to reflect and just wanted to go home now and forget this meeting then pray they never meet again.
"A pleasure your highness." She began to adjust herself to jump off the ledge and onto the bridge. "But I best be on my-" she was cut off. She had pushed her hand behind her hoping to push herself off on the ledge, but she missed the stone and forced all her body weight behind her. She began to wobble trying to steady herself, but she began to fall over the edge. "Wah!" she screeched. The gypsy, Clopin, reach for her and grabbed her arm, but she had fallen too far back and they both ended up falling into the once peacefully flowing river.
Her head was plunged under water. Celeste did not know how to swim. Growing up in the country side there was never a need. Fear struck her faster then her body struck the cold water. She kicked and flailed in the water trying to get the surface to breath. She kicked something, or someone. It was the king of beggars who had fallen in with her. In her panic she had forgotten. But it did not matter, for now she would surly drown.
Something wrapped itself around her waist. Celeste was then pulled to the surface were she inhaled a large gulp of air. Still unable to move from confusion, she found herself being dragged to shore. Her mind catching up, she saw it was the gypsy king swimming with her to shore. They both crawled onto the bank of the river coughing and gagging.
"Well, you are graceful," he noted, still lying on his back recovering. "It must be your clothes. They are going to your head." he laughed at his own joke. Celeste was at a loss for words. Her heart rate was still trying to return to normal and she was shivering in the cold. Her cloak was completely soaked and provided little to no warmth now. Seeing her shiver he said, "January really isn't the best time for a swim ma dame. You may catch a cold." She couldn't tell if he was truly concerned for her well being or if was just laughing at her.
She glance at him. He was not shivering as much. "Are you n-not cold?" she asked.
"I grew up where it is cold and damp. I can see you are not accustomed as I am."
"T-thank you. For s-saving m-me." She could hardly talk.
"Well, I failed the first time." He referred to trying to catch her before she fell. "I thought it best I succeed the second time."
With all the strength she could muster Celeste stood up wrapping her arms around herself in attempt to warm herself. It was not working and she longed for her warm bed a dry clothes at home.
"I m-must, get g-going now. Before I c-catch my death." She just wanted to leave. "I t-thank you again for s-saving me gypsy..."
"You cannot call me that anymore my dear. You know my name, use it." he waved a finger, still sitting on the ground. She tried to smile. "Merci, King of Beggars." She still did not feel right addressing him by his proper name.
"Bonne nuit ma dame." He waved. Quickly she walked away going as fast as she could in the cold air which was now only emphasized by the dampness.
It didn't seem long when she finally arrive home. With her shaky hands she tried to open the door silently. The house was still. She snuck up the stairs and tore off the dripping clothes. She threw on a dry night gown and then rung out the her wet outfit outside the window before hiding it back under her mattress. Before crawling under her warm sheets she took a cloth and wiped up the drips of water on the stairs from when she entered. Finally she tucked herself tightly in her bed and just wanted to sleep.
She could not believe what happened. She only left for a walk to think to herself and be away from her family. By the end of the night she had met Paris's King of Beggars who had been the handsome gypsy with the talent she had been admiring since the Festival of Fools. And he was so casual about it, talking to her as if they were equals even though she knew to despise him. It all seemed like too much. And on top of all that, they had both fallen into the freezing cold river outside Notre Dame. It was then in her remembering it dawned on Celeste, "I owe my life to a gypsy."
Literary Analysis: yeah most of you won't care about this. But I was reading about Victor Hugo's bias on his book, and he believes Notre Dame to be the main character over Quasimodo. So I tried giving Notre Dame a character in a sense when Celeste was on the birdge. Not very successful, but I tried. Also, Clopin, friggin hard! I wasn't sure if I should make him charming or have a grudge against her for not being a gypsy like he does in the movies. But that grudge will be incorperated soon and his behavior towards Celeste will be further explain as well, yes there is a reason and it is not that he likes her. How cliche. Anyway, sorry for my shpel (I have no idea how to spell that) Review please! I need it!