"The castle?" Maurice asked his daughter when she presented him with the idea. "You really think that..."

"Yes Papa," Belle assured him. "They will all be glad to have you, I am certain of it."

"Which just leaves the question of what you will do, all on your own," Maurice countered, and raised a hand to cradle his daughter's face tenderly. "Belle..."

"I am perfectly capable of running my own household," she told her father fondly. "I will convert the shop into a bookshop, or a little school where I can teach children to read and write and do their sums," she continued. "Or, perhaps... I could travel..." she suggested softly, a wistful look in her eyes as she turned to look out to where Phillippe was tied up in the small courtyard they had behind the shop. A place where Maurice could work on larger projects such as repairing broken wagons or where he could load a large piece of furniture onto a cart to be taken to the buyer's house.

Her father apparently didn't hear her last suggestion. "Well, I suppose it's a respectable sort of thing to do with your time, and teaching will keep you in coin well enough, so I needn't worry about you going hungry without me here to provide for you. I'll help you rearrange the shop before I leave then," he said, and that seemed to be it.

Her fate was decided. She would remain in Paris, which was at least better than returning to that close-minded provincial town or to the castle with its hallways full of memories and lands that had been surrounded by wolves. She would not travel. She would get in at least one more adventure before that happened though.

"Before we leave," she corrected him. "I should discuss some things with Cogsworth, and I would like to fetch some books from the library there."

Maurice chuckled. "Yes, yes," he agreed. "A school, however small, must have books after all, especially if it might also be a bookshop."

Belle smiled back at him. If she decided to enjoy the country side of France on her way back from the castle to Paris, well, who would know?

That night, after a long day of collecting most of her father's tools up into the cart, clearing the shop and making it ready to be made into a school room, Belle lay her head down on her pillow exhausted, and did not think a moment on the mirror hidden in her vanity. She was not normally inclined to use it, but there had been a great deal to worry about over the past few days. That worry was past now, and the day had been long.

~oOo~

"Morning in Paris, the city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame," a smooth tenor sang from beyond Belle's window.

She had herself just recently woken to those very bells. She was dressed already and had been brushing her hair when that song had drifted up to her half-opened window-shutters from the street below.

"The fisherman fishes, the baker man bakes, to the bells of Notre Dame. From the big bells as loud as the thunder, to the little bells soft as a psalm, and some say the soul of the city's the toll of the bells, the bells of Notre Dame."

Belle had rushed to her window as soon as she'd finished tying back her hair – a task she had been half-way through when she realised that she really was hearing that song from that voice coming from the street below her window.

She sank down to rest on her window-ledge and just watched the show with a smile on her face. A smile that grew when she took in the cart and saw that the colours were once more cheerful, the gold shining, and the various hanging no longer dull but glinting in the sun as they should. Yes, the whole cart was a happier sight for having Clopin in it, himself in bright colours save the black gloves that made his fingers look all the longer, performing his show to the children who had gathered about to watch.

A show that had not changed since she saw it... was it really only two days ago? On the morning of the Feast of Fools. Despite that Quasimodo was now a well-known figure to all of Paris, the boy was still much a mystery. He continued to live in the bell tower – it was his home, and he was the cathedral's bell ringer – but though he had been somewhat introduced to the Parisians and he was not as much of a mystery as he had been...

"So here is a riddle to guess, if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame," Clopin sang in that lilting tenor of his. "What makes a monster and what makes a man? Sing the bells. Whatever their pitch, you can feel them bewitch you, the rich and ritual knells of the bells of Notre Dame!"

Belle's smile stretched as she stifled laughter. That was not the way he had ended his tale on the day of the Feast of Fools. That was from their little exchange yesterday after Frollo had died.

Belle hurried down from her room, and spared a glance for the kitchen before she went out onto the street.

"Has Monsieur Trouillefou had breakfast yet?" she asked with a smile when the children had all returned to their chores and left Clopin to his cart.

"Non," he answered with a shake of his head and a slight smile on his face as he rested his elbows on the lintel of the window he gave his puppet show from. "Have you, Mademoiselle?"

Belle shook her head. "I haven't," she admitted. "Would you like to join my father and me for our morning meal?" she invited with a gesture towards... well, it was almost completely her school building now. Her father just needed to finish a few jobs, including making benches for Belle's potential students to sit on, and when she returned from taking him to the castle, she would need to spread the word that such was the new occupation of the building.

Clopin smiled softly and nodded. "Merci, Mademoiselle," he said.

"Ah, company for breakfast," Maurice greeted, and waved Clopin to sit. "And a younger back than mine," he added with a chuckle. "Dare I ask if I could employ you for a morning after our meal?" he asked.

Clopin blinked in surprise as he moved to the table. "Work?" he asked. "Monsieur, what work would you have for a gypsy?"

Maurice chuckled. "Work for an able body," he answered. "Whoever that body is, how should that affect my business?" he asked happily. "The shop needs to be rearranged into a school room before Belle and I leave, so that she won't have to rearrange everything by herself when she comes back," he explained.

"A school?" Clopin echoed curiously, eyes snapped up to Belle as he sat down.

"A school, with perhaps a few books to sell as well," Belle agreed, and started to set things out on the table. "But the journey to the castle, settling Papa there, and choosing books from the library to bring back, will mean at least a week before that happens."

Maurice patted her hand fondly. "Don't you worry Belle," he said kindly. "You'll have children coming in from all over to learn, I'm sure."

Belle's smile was fond, but a little strained and a little sad. Her father didn't notice, as he was distracted at that moment by his breakfast, but Clopin had been watching her closely since taking a seat at the table, and he saw.

He ate the meal given to him slowly, and was still eating when Maurice excused himself to get on with the day's work – things that needed to be finished, to be packed up, before he could leave.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked softly, and reached across the table to lay his hand over Belle's. "What happened to adventures in the great wide somewhere?"

"I thought I might take a detour on my way back to Paris from the castle," she admitted softly, but did not look up from where his hand was over her own. "It would perhaps not be much of an adventure, but it would be something."

"Chérie," Clopin said softly. "January isn't the time to go on adventures," he warned gently. "We have been lucky since the new year that no new snow has fallen here in Paris. You should know that in other places, it could very easily be knee-deep, even on the roads."

Belle bit her lip nervously, and raised her eyes to meet Clopin's. "But what other chance will I have?" she asked.

Clopin shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "With no one to govern where you may go or what you may do, what is to stop you from travelling when summer comes?" he countered.

A surprised and delighted laugh burst from Belle's lips. "Merci Monsieur Clopin!" she said, and rose from her seat so that she could lean across the table and kiss his cheek. She sat back with a smile on her face and finished her breakfast with a happier disposition.

When he had finished his own breakfast, and as he went to help Maurice in his shop (while Belle remained in the kitchen, cleaning up and making note of what she would need to buy that day) Clopin raised one gloved hand to where she had kissed his cheek, below the edge of his mask.

~oOo~

"Thank you for your help today Monsieur Trouillefou," Maurice said to Clopin with a smile as he set his hands to his back and felt the aches there. A bit of applied pressure and a number of cracks sounded out before he sighed happily. "I'm sure you had other plans for your day than helping an old man move furniture, so I am grateful."

"Not at all Monsieur," Clopin replied, though he also stretched his back and cracked his spine. He was a fit, fairly strong man, but moving furniture wasn't the sort of labour he was used to. "There is no festival today, and a gypsy may govern his life as he pleases. I have no one to answer to."

"Really?" Maurice asked, surprised, but delighted to learn more of the man. "I'd thought you were the leader of the gypsies in Paris."

Clopin shrugged. "I am a large personality," he allowed. "But we are governed by our faith more than a single person. Should I be absent, it will make no great difference, save to the children who may miss my puppet shows."

"Papa, lunch is ready," Belle called softly from the door. "Monsieur Clopin, you are welcome to join us of course."

"Merci," Clopin answered.

"Thank you Belle," Maurice said. "You two go sit, I will be there is a moment," he added, waving them off.

Clopin sent Belle a curious look, but she only smiled and waved him into the kitchen.

Maurice had four gold coins in his hand when he rejoined them. "I would pay the same to any young man who helped me in the shop today," he informed Clopin as he set the coins on the table in front of him.

"But you have given me two meals today already," Clopin objected weakly. "I could not ask for more."

"You're not asking," Maurice said firmly. "I'm giving."

Clopin sighed as he looked at the coins. "We all ate well from the coin we made at the Feast of Fools, and the Captain has been good enough to help Esmeralda return all the property taken from us by Frollo when he captured us. It has been a time of plenty."

"Then put it somewhere safe for when a time of need is upon you," Maurice advised. "I will not take it back. You have earned this money."

Clopin nodded in acceptance and swept the coins across the table towards himself.

"Monsieur Trouillefou?" called the captain's voice from outside, and there was a knocking sound that was not on the door of the shop. "Are you there, Monsieur Trouillefou?"

"Excuse me," Clopin said softly to Belle and her father, and quickly rose from the table to go to the street.

Phoebus was there, knocking with a sort of polite insistence on Clopin's wagon.

"I'm here Captain," Clopin answered, and climbed the steps of his cart so that he was closer to eye-level with the man – already back in his armour and back on his horse. "What do you want? Surely you are not here to arrest me?"

"No," Phoebus agreed with a shake of his head. "I... I know that it must seem fast, but..." he breathed deeply. "Esmeralda said that I needed to speak to you about the possibility of my marrying her."

Clopin blinked in surprise. That was fast. The captain had only returned to the city on the sixth, and then Frollo had been hunting Esmeralda for the whole day of the seventh before setting the girl on a pyre to be burned just yesterday morning. Four days in total, that day included, and really it must be, as the day was half-gone already.

"You'd best come inside," Clopin said lowly, shaking off his surprise. Esmeralda had warned him yesterday morning after all. He had not expected it to be so soon, but it was said that it was in adversity that it was possible to truly meet a person.

Phoebus dismounted and tied his horse loosely to Clopin's cart, then climbed the steps to the curtained half-door where Clopin stood with the wooden lower-door held open with one hand, and the draped cloth held back by the other, permitting the man entry.

"What sort of marriage negotiations are you expecting, Captain Phoebus?" Clopin started as he closed the door and dropped the curtain behind him. "Please sit," he added with a gesture to the only seat in his home. For himself, he rested against the door-frame.

"Uh... A dower, a dowry..." he hesitated.

"A bride price?" Clopin asked pointedly. "I fully expect you to pay a substantial dower to Esmeralda. You're a soldier. That's dangerous work. She should have support in the event of your untimely death. You've already had more than a few close calls."

Phoebus winced. "Thank you for putting that so delicately," he said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

Clopin smirked and snorted softly in amusement. "As for a dowry, Esmeralda has her own cart, full of her own belongings. Djali will follow her, though his mother was mine, so she would bring him as well, and she's hardly going to leave her personal savings behind with me, even if you would have no need of them," he expounded. "No, Captain Phoebus. Esmeralda sent you to me to discuss her bride price."

"And that is, exactly?" Phoebus asked.

Clopin's smirk became sharp. "What you will pay to me as recompense for loss of her," Clopin explained. "Esmeralda is not only all the family that I have, she also helps keep bread on the table with her dancing. I don't really see her sharing her earnings with me quite so liberally after she has her own family, do you? Since she came into my life, every coin one of us earned was shared by the other."

"Uh..." Phoebus hesitated, unsure.

Clopin snorted again in amusement. "Esmeralda is of great worth, Captain Phoebus," Clopin said simply, and folded his arms. "Think a moment. How much did your armour and sword cost you? How much does it cost you to keep your horse? How much good have they done for you in return?" he posited.

Phoebus opened his mouth, shut it again, and then proved he wasn't the brightest candle on the alter when he said "You're not asking for my sword, armour and horse in exchange for Esmeralda, are you?"

Clopin nearly struck himself in the face. "If I were," he said, "would you give them to me?"

"I'd wonder what you'd do with the armour, since it wouldn't fit you," Phoebus answered. "But, for Esmeralda... yes, I would."

Clopin sighed. The man was something of an idiot, but Esmeralda loved him, for reasons he certainly didn't understand. Still, he was getting somewhere. "And, as you have pointed out, your armour will not fit me, so I am more likely to ask for coin enough to buy as fine a set for myself should I wish it. At the same time, I have little use for a sword, so I am better off asking you for the value of the sword in coin. Your horse is trained to carry you as a rider. He knows you, and would probably not get along well with me. I have more use for a horse trained to carts than saddles."

Clopin paused to look at the soldier who was sitting there in his cart, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" Clopin asked.

Phoebus nodded. "I do," he agreed. "Is that the price you are asking?"

Clopin wanted to strike him for his indelicacy in the fine art of haggling a bride price. Clopin had seen parents all around the Court of Miracles locked in this delicate exchange, and knew every nuance of the carefully made deal.

"Yes," he stated bluntly. "Esmeralda is worth more to me than a fine suit of armour, a reliable sword and an excellent horse, but there is only so much a person can quantify. If you hurt her though," he added in warning. "If you for any reason, other than uncontainable happiness or the pain of childbirth, give her cause to cry, then I will personally see to it that Frollo's intentions for you are realised. Slowly and painfully, with a great deal of creative licence to make sure you don't die too quickly. Do I make myself clear?"

The blonde man nodded quickly. It was amazing how scary a man in a pink mask and a yellow-and-purple tunic with bells on could be.

"Good!" Clopin declared cheerfully.

Phoebus swallowed tensely. "And, uh, when would you expect to receive this sum?" he asked hesitantly.

"Well before you get married," Clopin answered firmly, tone dry and brows arched behind his mask.

Phoebus nodded and reached for his coin purse. "The cost of a sword forged by a master blacksmith," he said, and counted out most of the coins he carried onto Clopin's small table. "I'll have to come back with the money to pay for full plate armour for an officer and a trained, pure-bred horse," he said, and stood. "It shouldn't take me more than an hour or so to fetch the sum," he announced solemnly.

"Then I will wait for you here," Clopin answered, carefully hiding his shock at the amount of money that this man carried on him. To say nothing of how much the sword at his hip apparently cost. Clopin wondered if the blacksmith had over-charged the soldier, since he was clearly well-moneyed, or if his sword was just genuinely that valuable.

As soon as Phoebus was out, had mounted his horse once more, and was off down the street, Clopin rushed to stash the coin in a secret compartment underneath his bed. It was where he kept the single glass bottle of fine wine he had – it had been a gift from a very rich woman who had enjoyed his puppet show and his fine, boyish face, back before he had even met Esmeralda. She didn't know it was there. He'd just sank down on his seat when he heard Esmeralda calling his name from beyond the cart.

"Clopin!" she cried as she pounded up the steps in her bare feet and burst in through the door, all excitement, Djali on her heels. "Has Phoebus found you yet?" she asked.

Clopin nodded. "Oui, ma petite fille," he said as he sank backwards in his seat, suddenly feeling old and tired and exhausted. "He has been to see me."

"And?!" Esmeralda pressed.

Clopin raised an eyebrow at her from behind his mask. "And I suppose intellect, depth, and substance aren't everything there is to a person," he drawled as he examined the seams of the tips of his gloves and the way they clung so elegantly to his fingers. "But he's handsome, if that's what you're fishing for."

"Clopin!"

"What do you want from me Esmeralda?" Clopin asked, seriously now. "We agreed on a bride price, which you needn't concern yourself with. I threatened him with grievous bodily harm if he ever does anything to upset you. He will return soon with his coin."

"Clopin!" Esmeralda snapped. "Do we have your blessing?"

"My dear, do you need it?" Clopin asked with a wry twist of his lips.

Esmeralda huffed silently and placed her hands prominently on her hips. Even Djali was giving Clopin an 'are you serious?' glare.

When the silence stretched, Esmeralda broke it. "Please, Clopin?" she asked softly, hands suddenly clasped under her chin and her green eyes wide and hopeful and shining.

Djali pouted and blinked his eyes too.

Clopin sighed and threw his arm over his face as though he were a tired man who did not want to face dawn and another day of work yet. "You should be too old to use those eyes on me," he scolded from his seat. "Do you love him?" he asked slowly, enunciating each word as he lowered his arm and looked her in the eye.

"Yes," Esmeralda answered.

"Are you sure that he loves you?" he continued.

"Absolutely," she replied with a smirk. "He came to see you, didn't he?"

Clopin rolled his eyes. "Does he make you happy?" he pressed, determined not to be diverted.

"He does," she said, a true, besotted smile lighting her entire face.

"Then you have my blessing," Clopin told her. "If you love him and he loves you, then what can I do but support you? And if he makes you happy besides? Well, that is all I have ever wanted for you."

Esmeralda grinned and threw herself at Clopin, hugging him tightly. "Thank you!" she whispered fiercely, and then she was running out of his wagon, that radiant smile on her face. It seemed that she was too happy to even stand still.

Clopin looked down at Djali. "I suppose you have an opinion on the matter?" he asked the goat.

Djali trotted over to him, got up on his hind legs, licked Clopin's face, then dashed out after Esmeralda.