Chapter 31: The Question
No one dared to bother Quasimodo and Esmeralda after the scene in front of the church, so they were able to enjoy a peaceful walk through town. It was awkward at first due to the mood left by the incident with the crowd, but they quickly got over it when they started to enjoy the fresh air. Quasimodo was delighted to finally go out in public with no fear of being bullied by strangers or punished by Frollo for leaving the belltower.
After an hour they neared the church, but Quasimodo suddenly surprised Esmeralda by stopping dead in his tracks. Esmeralda nearly asked what the problem was, but she soon saw the answer for herself. Frollo was exiting the cathedral at the very moment. Though he didn't seem to notice Quasimodo and Esmeralda, Quasimodo wouldn't move until the judge was out of sight.
"Sorry about that." He said when he was back in the belltower with Esmeralda.
"It's fine." Esmeralda assured.
"Why was he even here?" Quasimodo asked. "It's not like he had an appointment with me."
"I think he was talking to the archdeacon." Esmeralda suggested. "Apparently he does that now."
"How come?" Quasimodo inquired.
"I don't think he has anyone else to talk to." Esmeralda replied.
It was a little sad to think about. Esmeralda didn't quite feel guilty because she knew that Frollo's loneliness was ultimately his fault, but she still felt sorry for him. It was obvious that he'd been lonely for a long time, and that feeling could only be worse now that his main companions were not available to him.
"I can't believe he stood up for me like that." Quasimodo noted, referring to the earlier incident on the steps. "I mean, I guess it makes sense. He's changed. But that's what I don't understand. How did he suddenly become so different?"
Esmeralda only vaguely knew the answer to that, since the archdeacon had encouraged her ask Frollo for a better answer. That was becoming a very appealing idea.
"What if we asked him?" Esmeralda suggested.
Quasimodo looked at her like she'd asked him to jump out a window.
"What?!" He asked. "Talk to him? But... Esmeralda, why?!"
"You want to know what got into him, right?" Esmeralda reminded.
"Yes, but... I just can't do that! When I see him, all I can see is..."
He trailed off, looking increasingly sad.
"...My mother's killer."
Esmeralda looked at him sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Quasi." She apologized. "I know how hard this must be for you. I just thought... Knowing might give us some clarity. Maybe help us figure out where to go from here..."
"I can't do it, Esmeralda." Quasimodo insisted. "...But you can."
Esmeralda understood. If someone was going to talk to Frollo, it had to be her.
Claude had expected another lonely night before a guard informed him that Esmeralda had shown up at the front door. He was curious, mostly about why she had taken space from Quasimodo in order to see him. Hopefully the reason wouldn't be something upsetting.
Nervously, he went to meet her in the main hall. The sight of her didn't help his concerns. Esmeralda looked at him blankly, her mood unreadable. Claude prepared for the coming exchange not to be anything positive.
"Hello." He greeted weakly.
"Hello." Esmeralda barely replied. "I need to ask you something."
Claude sensed that this conversation should be private, so he asked the guards to leave them alone. As soon as they had left, Esmeralda's blank expression changed into a serious one. She wasted no time and got straight to the point.
"What got into you?" She asked. "You were the most stubborn and insufferable person I ever knew. Then, after a few minutes with the archdeacon, everything changed. How did that happen?"
Claude breathed deeply. This would be difficult.
"He noticed my way of thinking." He explained. "That I blamed myself for what my parents did, but blamed everyone else for what I did."
Esmeralda listened carefully, already beginning to share Claude's unhappy mood. She hated to bring up painful memories, but she needed clarity on this matter. And Quasimodo probably needed it even more. She had to get an answer for him.
"He told me what he realized." Claude continued. "That everything I did was for the sake of perfection."
"Perfection..." Esmeralda repeated.
Claude sighed. Guilt and misery came over him when he thought of how his old mindset had developed.
"For all my childhood, I was punished for being imperfect." He explained. "And I was told that God would punish me too."
He paused, struggling to find the words to continue. But Claude realized this really wasn't complicated.
"I was afraid." He said finally. "It was a crippling fear... I had to believe that I was perfect in order to get over it. And in order to believe that, I couldn't take responsibility for any of my wrongdoings. I had to blame others. I had to see evil in everyone else so I could see good in myself. I had to hunt and punish them so I could feel like I was doing God's work. I did such horrible things, all so I could tell myself I was righteous."
Esmeralda's eyes were wide in realization. It all made sense now. Sure enough, Claude Frollo was not evil by nature. That was what he had made himself into, out of fear and desperation.
"Jean understood that." Claude added.
"Jean?" Esmeralda asked.
"The archdeacon." Claude explained. "I knew him as Jean many years ago, when we went to school together. He saw what I went through back then, how my father... reacted... when I lost my place at the top of the class. And how I sabotaged one of my classmates to get it back..."
He stopped. Regret overcame him. Claude wished that he'd listened to Jean all those years ago. So many years of his crimes could have been prevented.
"He was there when I first began to lie to myself." Claude went on. "And when I told him what I told you, he fully understood. He understood my lies and the reasons for them. Having someone identify the workings of my mind... It was too much. I couldn't deny what I was doing when someone pointed it out like that. I couldn't pretend I wasn't lying to myself."
It was amazing. Esmeralda could see why Claude had changed. It had taken the wisdom of someone who had known him earlier in life, someone who could put together the pieces of his past.
"And then he said," Claude picked up. "That lying to myself would not clear me of responsibility. And he said what you said, that what my parents did was not my fault... But that my mistreatment of everyone around me is my fault alone. And I couldn't carry on with that guilt."
He looked at Esmeralda with an awkward blend of hope and dismay.
"Does that answer your question?" He asked.
Esmeralda nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. She didn't know what to do next. She'd taken on this task for Quasimodo, but now it hit her that she would have to disappoint him. She couldn't reveal these details to him. The intimate details of Claude's life were not hers to share. Quasimodo would have to find out on his own. But Esmeralda knew that he wouldn't be willing to.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Claude inquired.
The change of subject was awkward, but Esmeralda remembered something she needed.
"Could I have some money?" She asked. "I only need enough to buy food."
"Of course." Claude replied, walking away.
Esmeralda stood still in silence. The information she'd just gathered had changed her mindset. She now understood Claude perfectly. She knew what had led him to his evil ways and what had led him out of them. She saw why he'd made such a tyrant of himself and how much he regretted it now. Some of her resentment faded. Perhaps she would even be able to forgive him...
Suddenly, Esmeralda's thoughts were interrupted.
She was grabbed from behind and pulled backward. She would have screamed, but a hand clasped over her mouth. She struggled against the figure that held her, but it wouldn't let go. It dragged her down a corridor, whispering.
"Shhh! It's okay!"
Naturally, Esmeralda did not believe that. She thrashed against the figure, who grunted, but didn't stop. The person pulled her into an empty room, then let go of her and spoke with more volume.
"Esmeralda, it's me!"
Esmeralda turned around. Even in the dim torchlight, she recognized the figure. She saw a face that she knew and loved.
It was Phoebus.
