Chapter 4:
After she had set up her tent among the many in the square, Esmeralda took some time to dance one more time, enticing peasants with the idea of her encore at the festival. She was careful not to prolong the performance too long before going to find Clopin.
True to form, he was prancing around in the most flamboyant and at times even obnoxious manner. He even wasted some prep time by harassing a mediocre playwright whose morality play was awaiting the arrival of some Cardinal or another, and his audience was losing interest at a shocking rate.
Esmeralda gave Clopin a look meant to bring him back to the festival, where he was actually the Master of Ceremonies, and crucial to the flow of events. Not to mention he would be unbearable for the rest of the year if he missed the chance to lead the Festival of Fools.
At last, the two of them left the mediocre world of the play to the fantastic brilliance of the Festival of Fools.
"Go and get that ghastly costume on," Clopin ordered, and pranced away to make an entrance worthy of his ego.
Meanwhile, Esmeralda scurried into her tent, and began preparing. She slipped out of her everyday clothes and was about to change into her performance dress when she heard someone shouting, and losing his balance.
A man fell backwards into her tent, and grabbed ahold of the curtain she'd so painstakingly set up to partition her changing space from the door to the tent.
"Hey!" she scolded, pulling her robe tightly over herself… until she realized that this was no feigned accident meant to catch a glimpse of a woman in a compromising state of dress.
Instead, there was some fumbling young man scrambling to get out from under her fallen curtain. So this was a clumsy mistake… she could forgive that.
"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked as the man, really it was possible it was a boy from the size. "Here, let me see," she said gently, and pulled back his cloak so she could look at his face. "There," she said, looking him over and finding that while he was wearing a very simple tunic and hose under his cloak, he had spared no efforts with his mask.
Was that plaster? cloth? a little of both? It looked so realistic!
Djali was visibly disturbed by the mask, but Esmeralda was just glad there hadn't been a worse mishap.
"See? No harm done," she said, helping the fellow to his feet. "Just try to be a little more careful," she said with a gentle laugh.
"I-I will…" he stuttered as she guided him out of the tent.
"And by the way, great mask!" she said as she closed the tent flap between them and went back to hurrying into her costume.
She'd lost a bit of time due to the interruption, so she didn't have time to fix the tent before she slipped out with her own cloak disguising her brilliantly-colored costume.
She could already hear Clopin singing his grandstanding song, which was her cue to stand beneath the show stage and await her signal to appear.
She was risking her reputation with this performance, but that was part of what made the opportunity so enticing. Other dancers might have performed this dance had they the courage, but any misstep could result in a lifetime of mockery, not only in Paris, but all of France.
As aware of that as she was, Esmeralda was impatient for the chance to stand before everyone and show them what she was capable of. It was equally possible that she could successfully prove herself as the best dancer, or as Clopin boasted, the "finest girl in France." Such a coveted reputation could instead result in giving Esmeralda a title akin to street royalty, and the chance to achieve either title was moments away.
The moment he cried for her to dance, she was up on stage, as the transition in the smoke blurred past her. Then there she was, bowing to the astounded crowd. They should be impressed! The timing here had taken weeks to practice in the Court of Miracles. She strutted around the stage, and then came the real dancing. Only then did she see, right by the box for Judge Frollo, the Captain who had saved her from those guards who'd harassed her that day.
Of course, he'd associate with Frollo! Even the good ones were secretly just collaborators.
She just wished that she had an opportunity to tell them both off at once… Well, it was the Feast of Fools, so she decided to make one of a certain judge.
As repulsive as he was, Judge Frollo was still a public official, and the gypsies could only stand to better their relationship with him. So, she pranced across a wing of the stage to seat herself on the arm of Frollo's chair. She sent a smirk Phoebus' way, before focusing on what appeared to be a terrified, pasty old man falling apart at the seams.
While perched on the arm of Frollo's chair, careful to stay as far out of his lap as she could, she looped her scarf around his neck and pulled his wrinkled, hook-nosed face closer to her. It was all too satisfying to first pretend she was about to kiss him, and then send his hat crashing down over his face, even if she did leave her scarf with him.
She managed to make her smugness look like a dancer's confidence, or at least she hoped she did, as she finished the dance with a twirl around a stolen soldier's spear and a bow to her audience. The last thing she would have to do for the day was help crown the king of fools, and then she could go home and count the earnings. The prestige off this performance was sure to merit her some much-desired attention in the future, and she was going to capitalize on that for all she was worth.
She caught sight of her golden-armored "friend" who winked at her when he noticed he'd caught her eye. It seemed like a good-natured wink, so she returned it.
Still, she'd noticed the fellow who'd fallen into her tent during her dance, and shy as he was, she was not about to let him miss out on the chance to win the competition he'd obviously worked so hard preparing for.
Though Clopin was doing his best to sell the hideous face competition, Esmeralda was the one who actually proceeded to unmask the competitors. It was fun, having an excuse to push people around, especially into a puddle of mud, but the game came to a quick halt when the young man she'd pulled onstage herself proved not to be wearing a mask, at all.
How could she have been so stupid? Why had she looked right into this man's face several times in a row, and not once realized he wasn't wearing a mask? No mask could be so lopsided, with such unequally-proportioned features, without looking like a mask.
"I'm so sorry…" she whispered to him as he covered his face in enormous hands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic!" Clopin cried to the confused and disturbed crowd. "We asked for the ugliest face in Paris, and here he is! Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame!"
Clopin's announcement brought smiles once again to the Parisians' faces. Even Esmeralda couldn't help but sigh with relief as they embraced Quasimodo and led him away to celebrate his being crowned the King of Fools.
In the confusion, she disappeared back into her tent so that she could change into her ordinary clothes. Within minutes, she could hear the commotion take a dark turn. There was no precedent for the cruel notes in the laughter she could hear.
When she peered out of her tent she saw that rather than celebrate the bell-ringer, the Parisians had begun to torment him on the pillory! This was her fault… she was sure of it… and so, she would be the one to fix it.