2
MADELLAINE'S sleep was troubled by vivid dreams that twisted her past and present into a thing from nightmare. She was back in Sarousch's tent, his cold blue eyes and sharp voice overwhelming her. In her dream, she was a child again, six years old, performing on stage for the first time as his assistant under harsh scrutiny. The crowd's applause faded into mocking laughter as she tripped over a loose nail in one of the wooden floorboards on the stage, and Sarousch's face twisted into a cruel sneer.
Without warning, the scene changed, and she was running through a dark, twisting alleyway, Sarousch's ominous figure always behind her. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't escape his grasp. The fear was suffocating, and she could feel his cold breath on the back of her neck.
Drizzles of rain spritzed Madellaine's face, causing her to shiver from the cold even in her sleep. The dream's hold weakened, but Sarousch's face and his mocking laughter still flashed in her mind, his voice ringing and pounding in her ears.
Suddenly, a man's shout echoed from somewhere behind her, and the sharp bleating of a goat cut through the haze of her nightmare, pulling her toward consciousness. The man's voice sounded more irritated than distressed.
"Djali, stop pulling on my cloak! We can't go that way or we'll be late at this rate."
Madellaine rolled over onto her side, groaning as she tried to dismiss the sounds as part of her dream. But the rough, cold cobblestones beneath her were a stark contrast to the blankets of the makeshift bed she was used to. The chill of the air and the dampness of the rain shocked her fully awake, and everything suddenly came back to her. No holes were missing; none that she could tell anyway. This wasn't her makeshift bed in her tent back at the camp; she had spent the night on the streets to avoid going back to Sarousch last night at all costs.
Suddenly, the goat's loud bleat and the man's voice coming from somewhere behind her startled her.
"I don't—excuse me, I didn't see you there! Miss, are you, er… alright?"
A cry of surprise escaped her lips as she twisted to see what was happening. To her horror and embarrassment, she found a man staring down at her with concern. A small goat tugged at the hem of his worn blue cloak. He had fair skin, dark brown eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, and a small goatee. Clad in golden armor with blue clothing and a matching blue cape, his attire indicated he held a high station within the city.
"Are you alright, miss?" he asked again, his voice gentle and concerned when she did not answer.
Madellaine stared at him, confused. She nodded slowly, still processing her surroundings and the night's events. Her gaze flitted to the goat, now gnawing on a scrap of fabric from the man's cape.
"Djali, stop that!" the man scolded, gently tugging his cloak free from the goat's mouth. "You're going to ruin my cloak."
"Y-yes," Madellaine stammered, her voice hesitant. She glanced back at the man, trying to gather her thoughts. "I...I think so. Th-thank you, sir."
Her eyes flickered nervously between him and the goat, unsure of what to make of the peculiar scene as a gust of cold wind wafted through the air. She shivered, more from the cold than the remnants of her dream.
A soft squeak from her skirt's pocket startled her. Boots poked his head out, his tiny eyes blinking up at her. The man's eyes widened in alarm at the sight of the mouse, and Djali bleated again, clearly not impressed with the new arrival.
"Is that a…mouse?" he asked, taking a small step back.
Madellaine instinctively cupped her hand around Boots, shielding him from the drizzling rain and the man's gaze. "Y-yes, t-this is Boots, he's my...my friend," she whispered, her voice faltering as her teeth chattered from the cold of the morning air. "He's harmless, I promise."
She bit her lip, unsure of how the man would react upon learning she kept a mouse as a companion. To her relief, the man's initial alarm softened into curiosity. He knelt, bringing himself to her level, and paused to give Djali an affectionate pat on the head.
"Djali here got away from me and must have found you sleeping on the streets. He came running back to me, started tugging on my cloak, and wouldn't let go until I followed him. Now I see why. Clever kid," he chuckled, glancing affectionately at the goat before returning his gaze to her. His expression turned serious as he met her eyes. "I'm running late to the Palace of Justice, but you need my help more than the Minister does now. You don't look like you belong on the streets," he said gently. "Do you need any help?"
Madellaine hesitated, glancing around the damp, empty alley. She was used to handling things on her own, but there was something sincere in the man's eyes that made her want to trust him. She nodded slowly.
"My name is Phoebus," he said, extending a hand to help her up. "Captain of the Guard. Let's get you somewhere safe and warm."
Madellaine took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The gesture was so kind, so unlike anything she was used to. As she stood, she felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. Would she be safe with this man? Could she trust him?
Phoebus noticed her hesitation and offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said. "You're safe with me."
As they walked, Djali trotted alongside them, playfully tugging at Phoebus's cloak. Madellaine held Boots close, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time in a while. Perhaps she had found someone who could help her escape her shadows.
Phoebus occasionally glanced over at her, his brow furrowing in concern, noticing how she gritted her teeth against the cold autumn morning.
"What's a nice girl like you doing sleeping out on the streets anyway?" he asked gently, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and concern.
Madellaine hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She couldn't bring herself to trust him entirely, not yet. The fear of what Sarousch would do to her if he found out she had talked to a soldier was too great, and she didn't want to involve this kind stranger in her complicated life.
She swallowed hard and forced a smile, deciding to lie. "I... I'm with the circus that's come to town, my...my name is Madellaine," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I went exploring and I got lost," she whispered.
Phoebus's frown deepened, but he didn't press her further. Instead, he simply nodded, as if accepting her story for now. "Well, let's get you somewhere warm and dry. We can figure out what to do next from there."
Madellaine nodded, grateful for his understanding and kindness. As they continued walking, Djali trotted along, occasionally looking up at them with curious eyes. Boots nestled deeper into her pocket, finding comfort in her presence. She felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty as Phoebus led her through the damp streets. The Captain's kind demeanor and willingness to help her were a stark contrast to the fear and manipulation she had grown accustomed to with Sarousch. She glanced at him occasionally, noticing the genuine concern in his eyes.
As they walked, the morning began to stir around them. Shopkeepers opened their shutters, and the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries wafted through the air. Madellaine's stomach growled loudly, betraying her despite her efforts to hide her hunger.
Phoebus noticed and gently asked, "Have you eaten?"
Madellaine's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She hesitated, feeling ashamed to admit the truth. "No," she whispered, barely audible.
Phoebus's expression softened further. "Come on," he said warmly, leading her towards a small bakery with a welcoming glow emanating from its windows.
The sweet scent of freshly baked loaves and pastries wafted through the air, nearly making her mouth water. Phoebus guided her to a quaint bakery nestled between bustling shops. Warm light spilled from the windows, beckoning Madellaine inside like a beacon of hope.
Inside, the bakery was a haven of warmth and comfort. The air was thick with the aroma of cinnamon and yeast, shelves lined with golden loaves of bread and delicate pastries. Behind the counter stood a stout man in a flour-dusted apron, his strong hands deftly working dough into shape.
The baker looked up from his work, his expression bright and jovial as he greeted Phoebus with a polite nod and a smile. "Captain Phoebus, good morning! What can I get for you today, it's been a while since you've been in to see me?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
Phoebus returned the smile and gestured towards Madellaine. "Been meaning to fix that, Pierre, my friend. A fresh loaf of bread for the young lady, please, Pierre, and one for me as well to take with me to the Palace of Justice. Thank you."
The baker's eyes twinkled with understanding, and he quickly fetched a warm loaf of bread from the display case, wrapping it carefully in a cloth before handing it to Madellaine. She accepted it with trembling hands, her eyes brimming with unshed tears of gratitude.
"Thank you, Captain," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I…I don't know how to repay you."
Phoebus shook his head, his expression gentle as he accepted his loaf of wrapped bread from the baker, offering the baker a curt nod but never taking his eyes off her. "There's no need to repay me. I'm happy to help." He led her to a small table near the window, where they could sit and talk. "Please, have a seat."
Madellaine sat down, placing the loaf on the table and tearing off a piece. She nibbled on the warm bread, savoring the simple act of eating that now felt like a luxury. Although she was nearly starving, wanting nothing more than to devour the whole loaf, the handsome Captain of the Guard seated across from her and watching her made her restrain herself. She forced herself to take small, polite bites, occasionally breaking off pieces to feed Boots, who eagerly accepted the treat with his tiny paws clutching the crumbs.
Phoebus watched her with a kind smile for a moment before asking in an attempt to make conversation, "So what do you do for the circus?"
Madellaine hesitated, feeling an abrupt bitterness seep into the pit of her stomach. "Oh, I...I'm just the ringmaster's assistant," she confessed quietly, her voice tinged with frustration. "I just...stand there and look pretty. There's nothing to it."
Phoebus raised an eyebrow, noting the bitterness in her tone. "You don't seem too happy about it."
Madellaine sighed, tearing off another piece of bread. "It's not exactly what I dreamed of doing. Actually, I'd really like to walk the tightrope. But it's all I've ever known. Our ringmaster, Sarousch, he...he won't let me train for anything else..."
She glanced at Boots, her expression softening with affection as she fed him another crumb.
Phoebus leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Your little mouse there is quite the character. My son, Zephyr, would probably like him. My wife, Esmeralda, and I hope to stop by with him and see the circus tomorrow."
Madellaine's eyes widened in surprise. "You…you have a family?"
Phoebus nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Yes, a wonderful family. Esmeralda is my wife, and Zephyr is our son. He's six. They're my world."
Madellaine felt a pang of envy at the mention of his family, but she quickly pushed it aside. "They...they sound lovely, Captain. It must be nice, having a family who loves you," she murmured, unsure what else to say.
Before Phoebus could respond, the baker approached their table with another wrapped loaf of bread.
"Captain Phoebus, forgive me for the intrusion, but could you take this to Quasimodo at your first chance?" the baker asked, placing it on the table. "He was kind enough last week to help me move some large kettles in the back when he came into the shop to buy bread, and I've not forgotten his kindness."
Phoebus nodded, reaching into his pocket to pay the baker. "Of course, Pierre. I have some time later this afternoon. I'll take it to him. Thank you, my friend," he muttered, handing over the coins.
As the baker shuffled away to return to his duties, Madellaine looked at Phoebus curiously, a spark of hope igniting within her at the mention of the bellringer, and the fact that the two men seemed to know each other.
"You-you know the bellringer?" she asked, her voice soft.
Phoebus seemed surprised by her question. "Yes, Quasimodo is a friend of our family." He studied her intently for a moment, curiosity growing. "How do you know about him?"
Madellaine hesitated, her mouth turning dry and her heart pounding hard against her ribcage.
"I heard stories about him when our circus entered the city. I wanted to meet him for myself. I-I tried to speak with the Archdeacon last night, b-but… he refused to let me see him," she blurted out, her words clumsy and blunt as they tumbled out in a rush, her nerves getting the better of her.
Phoebus nodded in understanding. "The Archdeacon is protective of Quasimodo. You would need his permission to see him as long as you're in the cathedral, and I can't say I blame him, given what he's been through. Old Archdeacon David's seen too much trouble come to Notre Dame. But…if your intentions are truly good, perhaps there is a way."
Madellaine leaned forward, a surge of hope welling inside her, flickering in her eyes. "Really? How?"
Phoebus lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard. "You didn't hear this from me if anyone at the church asks, but there's a small chapel near the back of the cathedral. The door is often left unlocked for those wanting a moment alone to pray without going to the main prayer hall. There's a side door that leads to the north bell tower from there. But be careful, Madellaine. The Archdeacon is protective, and Notre Dame has many eyes and ears besides just David's."
Tears welled up in Madellaine's eyes again, gratitude overwhelming her. "Thank you, Captain Phoebus. Your…your kindness means more to me than I can say."
Phoebus smiled gently as he nodded in understanding. "You're welcome. I hope you're able to meet him. He could use another friend besides Esmeralda and me, it would do him good. Quasimodo is a good man, despite what some may say. He's been through a lot, but he's one of the kindest souls you'll ever meet."
Madellaine felt a surge of hope at his words. Maybe there was a chance for her to meet Quasimodo after all. But for now, she was grateful for the unexpected kindness she had found in Phoebus. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could, the door to the bakery opened and two soldiers entered, both wearing the same exasperated looks on their faces. They spotted Phoebus and immediately their expressions softened with relief.
"Captain, there you are. The Minister, he calls for you, sir. He says you're taking too long to show."
Phoebus sighed. "Yes, yes, I was just about to…" He trailed off and turned back to Madellaine, his expression remorseful and apologetic. "Madellaine, I'm sorry, but I can't stay. I need to be going. Take care, and I hope you're able to talk to Quasi."
Madellaine blinked in surprise at the Captain of the Guard giving the bellringer a nickname, but she shyly nodded, standing up and clutching the half-eaten loaf of bread close to her chest. She watched him go, feeling a growing desire to repay his kindness.
Then, a thought struck her. Eager to repay the captain's kindness, she thought about showing his son, Zephyr, the circus animals.
Rushing out of the bakery, she called after Phoebus as his men led him away towards the Palace of Justice. "Captain Phoebus, wait, please!"
He stopped and turned, a look of mild curiosity on his face. The goat, Djali, who had been trailing happily beside him, stopped and turned to look at her as well, tilting his head in curiosity and letting out a soft bleat.
Madellaine stammered, "I just wanted to thank you. I don't have any money, but if you bring your son to our camp later, I can introduce him to Erik, our lion tamer, and Tiberius, our lion. Tiberius is old and gentle and wouldn't hurt anyone."
Phoebus raised an eyebrow in surprise but smiled warmly. "That's very kind of you, Madellaine. I'm sure my son would love that. Thank you for the offer. I'll see if we can come by later, perhaps tonight, before supper."
Madellaine nodded, feeling a mix of relief and hope. She watched Phoebus and the guards disappear down the street, then turned back towards the direction of Notre Dame in the distance, its spires seeming to compete with one another to reach the heavens.
The morning sun was now casting a golden glow over the city, and her steps felt somewhat lighter than before. As she walked, her thoughts drifted to the possibility of hopefully speaking with Quasimodo this morning.
Captain Phoebus's kindness had given her a glimmer of hope, and she was determined to follow through. She made her way through the bustling streets, weaving through the crowds, until she finally reached the cathedral. Glancing up at the intimidating structure before her, Madellaine's newfound confidence and hope, previously bolstered by the captain's generosity and kindness, began to waver.
Nervousness replaced her earlier resolve as her heart pounded hard in her chest and her palms grew clammy—sensations she hadn't anticipated.
What if the Archdeacon refused to see her again? What if the bellringer didn't want to speak to her?
She glanced down at Boots, who was peering up at her from her pocket with trusting eyes, his whiskers twitching. The little mouse seemed calmer now that he had a full belly.
"We have to be brave," she murmured, more to herself than to him, as she climbed the front steps. "We've come this far, Boots, and we can't turn back now." Madellaine paused, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. "We need to find him and talk with him."
With renewed determination, Madellaine continued on her path, her steps more purposeful as she approached the grand entrance of Notre Dame. The cathedral's intricate façade, towering spires, and the statues that surrounded it seemed to watch over her, offering a sense of both comfort and intimidation.
Finally, she reached the doors of Notre Dame. Her heart raced as she pushed them open and stepped inside. The air was cool and filled with the faint, familiar scent of incense—the same scent from last night that had calmed her frayed nerves. The dim light from the stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the floor, adding to the calming and peaceful atmosphere.
Madellaine paused for a moment, taking in the serene beauty of the cathedral. She could hear the distant murmur of prayers, adding to the sacred atmosphere. Gathering her courage, she made her way toward the back of the cathedral, searching for the chapel Captain Phoebus had mentioned.
Boots remained quiet in her pocket as if sensing the gravity of the moment. As she approached the chapel, Madellaine's nervousness returned in full force. What if the door was locked? What if she was caught? But she had to try, no matter the risks. With trembling hands, she reached for the door handle and turned it slowly. To her relief, the door creaked open, revealing the chapel within. She slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.
The chapel was small and intimate, with a few wooden pews and a simple altar. Madellaine's eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of a way to Quasimodo. She spotted a narrow staircase leading up to what seemed like an upper level of the cathedral.
"This must be it," she murmured, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. She bit her lip, looking down at Boots nestled comfortably in her skirt pocket for a moment. "I wonder if those stairs lead to the bell tower."
Staring up at the stairs before her shrouded in shadow, her heart fluttered with nerves and determination. She had to find Quasimodo, warn him of Sarousch's plans, and convince him to trust her. It was a daunting task, but she knew she had to try—for her freedom and the safety of this supposedly kind and gentle soul hidden away within the safety of Notre Dame's stone walls.
Before she could take a step toward the stairs, Madellaine spotted the Archdeacon speaking quietly with a parishioner near the altar, his expression grave yet compassionate. Summoning her courage, she approached him once more, her heart pounding in her chest. The Archdeacon turned to her, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition.
"Good morning, my child," he greeted, his voice tinged with cautious curiosity.
"Good morning, Father," Madellaine stammered, her voice trembling slightly. She could feel her nerves threatening to overwhelm her, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Please...I've come back as you asked me to," she began urgently, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. "I need to speak with the bellringer."
The Archdeacon's expression softened, and he regarded her silently for a long moment, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit.
Finally, he nodded slowly, his expression softening with reluctant understanding.
"Follow me, child," he said quietly, leading her toward the narrow staircase hidden behind the altar. She had hoped the stairs would lead her to the bell tower. "But please, approach Quasimodo with care. He is still wary of strangers, even after all this time. I had hoped it would not still be the case."
Madellaine nodded but said nothing, her mind racing with questions. What could it be that made the church's bellringer so shy?
As they ascended the stairs, she remembered Phoebus's words, hinting that some in Paris feared him. A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, and she began to grow even more nervous, wondering what Sarousch had gotten her into now.
The Archdeacon led her up the winding staircase, their footsteps echoing softly in the confined space. The closer they got to the top, the louder the distant ringing of the bells became. Finally, they reached a wooden door. The Archdeacon paused, turning to Madellaine with a gentle but firm look.
"Remember what I said, child. Approach with care," he reminded her, before pushing the door open.
Madellaine nodded, thanking the Archdeacon for his kindness towards her as he turned away and descended the stairs to return to his duties, leaving her to enter the tower alone. As she stepped over the threshold of the doorway, the sight that greeted her was breathtaking.
The bell tower was a cavernous space filled with beams of light streaming through the rafters and narrow windows, casting a golden glow on the massive bells hanging above. But there was no sign of this bellringer, of Quasimodo.
Madellaine took a cautious step forward, her nervous eyes darting around in search of the church's bellringer.
"Uh, hello?" she called out hesitantly, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious tower. "I-I'm looking for the bellringer. Quasimodo?"
There was no immediate response, but Madellaine thought she heard the rustling of a curtain and the faint sound of footsteps, though the noise was muffled. Her heart pounded as she took another step, nerves on edge. She glanced around the tower, searching for any sign of movement or life.
Her gaze was drawn to the simplicity of the loft she now found herself in, where a tarp covering a table caught her attention. Intrigued, she moved towards it, wanting to peek underneath and see what was hidden. Madellaine lifted the tarp and smiled at the beautiful craftsmanship underneath.
It was a wooden carved replica of Notre Dame and the town square below, complete with tiny people. She picked up one of the figurines, but immediately, the entire scene toppled over. She squeaked, darting under the cover to pick them up, sincerely hoping he didn't see her blunder.
As she put the figurines back where she found them, Boots darted out of her pocket, having spotted a flash of movement in the shadows.
Panicked, Madellaine rushed after the little mouse, her heart racing. "Boots, no! Come back!" she whispered urgently, trying to keep her voice low. She hoped desperately that her clumsiness hadn't scared off the bellringer and that she could still make things right.
Boots darted underneath a worn curtain, his claws scraping against the creaky wooden floorboards, his tiny form quickly disappearing into the shadows. Madellaine followed cautiously, her heart pounding in anticipation. She thought she saw movement behind the curtain—a flicker of shadow, and heard the faint murmur of voices—but as she pulled the curtain aside, her eyes widened in surprise and mild fright.
Before her stood three stone statues of grotesque-looking gargoyles. Their twisted features seemed frozen in eternal grimaces, their wings stretched out as if ready to take flight. Madellaine recoiled slightly, unnerved by their eerie presence. But then she noticed Boots.
The little mouse was not cowering in fear but rather clawing at one of the gargoyles' hands as if trying to provoke a response. His small chirps and scratches echoed faintly in the dimly lit corner of the bell tower.
"Boots, you silly mouse, they're only made out of stone, gargoyles can't talk," Madellaine whispered with a nervous laugh, her fear giving way to a flicker of amusement at Boots' bravado. She reached down to scoop him up, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering unease.
The statues were unsettling, their stony gazes seeming to follow her every move. As she held Boots close, she glanced around the shadowy nook, her earlier sense of urgency returning.
"Hello?" she called out tentatively, her voice echoing softly in the vastness of the tower.
She waited, hoping for a response, but the only answer was the faint rustle of fabric in the distance.
Taking a deep breath, Madellaine turned her attention back to the statues. Despite her initial fear, she couldn't help but admire the intricate craftsmanship that had gone into their creation. Each detail was painstakingly carved, from the curl of their claws to the texture of their wings.
"I wonder who made these," she mused aloud, her curiosity momentarily outweighing her unease. She gently stroked Boots' fur, his tiny form warm against her palm. But as she studied the statues further, a chill ran down her spine.
There was something unnervingly lifelike about them as if they were waiting for the right moment to spring to life. Madellaine shook her head, banishing the unsettling thought from her mind.
"We should keep looking, Boots. The bellringer must be here somewhere. We have to find him," she whispered, her voice tinged with determination.
Madellaine took a few cautious steps further into the bell tower, her eyes searching the shadowy corners for any sign of movement. The eerie silence was broken only by the faint sound of hushed voices, though the sounds seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, and it unnerved her. She strained her ears to locate the source of the sound.
"Quasimodo, you really should go out there and introduce yourself," a cultured voice said, startling Madellaine.
"Yeah, she's probably really nice!" another, more enthusiastic voice added. "You won't know until you get out there and talk shop. The bells, ding-dong, she likes the bells, didn't you hear her just now?"
Madellaine's heart raced as she heard the distinct conversation. She couldn't see anyone, but the voices were clear. Multiple people must be here, she thought, frowning, but why can't I see them?
"Victor, Hugo, Laverne, I-I don't know," a gentle, hesitant, almost melodious voice replied. "B-but what if she gets scared? What…what if she runs away?"
"Scared? Ha! With a face like yours, kid? Never! You're a hero now to all of Paris, what's to be afraid of, huh?" the enthusiastic voice laughed heartily.
"Listen to me, Quasimodo," the warbling voice, the only female of the voices speaking that Madellaine could make out, interjected, "If you don't take the chance, you'll never know."
Madellaine tried to steady her breathing, whispering, "Is someone there? Please, I just want to talk." The voices fell silent, leaving Madellaine in the oppressive quiet of the bell tower once more. She took another deep breath and continued her search, the conversation still echoing in her mind.
As she cautiously moved forward, Madellaine noticed something unusual—a flicker of movement high above. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and she saw a pair of legs dangling from underneath one of the bells just to her right. Her heart skipped a beat.
She couldn't make out any details of his features from this distance, but she let out a sigh of relief. Finally, she had found him.
"Boots, look," Madellaine whispered excitedly, her nerves giving way to a flicker of amusement. "We found him. The bellringer." Gathering her courage, she called out again, her voice more playful this time. "H-hello? A-are you…hiding from me?"
There was a moment of silence, then a soft, stammering response. "N-no…I...I wasn't hiding," a timid voice replied.
Madellaine felt a rush of relief mixed with curiosity. She had finally found the bellringer, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. She wondered what could have made him so shy. She took a few steps closer, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, though she still couldn't make out any details of his figure.
"My name is Madellaine," she said softly, hoping to coax a response out of him, anything. She offered a tentative smile but then wondered if he could even see it from his hiding place. "I-I'm with the circus that came to town, and I wanted to…to find you and talk with you. I've heard the stories…."
There was a pause, and the figure underneath the bell shifted slightly.
"Y-you…w-wanted to talk to me?" Quasimodo's voice was filled with surprise and uncertainty as if he could hardly believe it.
Madellaine nodded, a faint smile tugging on her lips at hearing the surprise in his voice, even though she wasn't sure he could see her.
"Y-yes. I…I wanted to find you. I-I've loved hearing the bells; they're beautiful," she whispered, thinking it best to start with small talk, to coax him out of his hiding place before warning him about Sarousch's plan, though she did not yet know the full extent of her master's schemes.
Madellaine took a cautious step closer to the hidden figure, her heart pounding. She felt a surge of determination mixed with apprehension, remembering the baker's warnings about how many in Paris were afraid of this man.
"Please," she said gently. "I just want to talk. I promise I won't hurt you. Don't you want to come where I can see you?" she asked hopefully.
Quasimodo shifted again, the sound of his movement echoing softly in the vast bell tower. "I…I'm not used to visitors," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I-I would only scare you. I'm a monster, you know."
Madellaine frowned, even though she knew he couldn't see it. She took a deep breath, her voice softening. "You're not a monster. Please, let me see you. I just want to talk, and I want to be able to see you. It's-it's only right."
Quasimodo's voice grew more frantic. "N-no, y-you don't understand. I'm hideous. I-I'll frighten you."
Madellaine stepped closer, her voice gentle but insistent. "I'm not afraid. I've heard the stories, but I want to see you for myself. Please, come out."
Quasimodo stammered, his voice breaking. "I...I can't. Y-you'll run away. E-everyone does."
Madellaine's heart ached at the pain in his voice. "I won't run away. I promise. Please, trust me."
Quasimodo hesitated, then slowly stepped out from underneath the bell he'd been hiding behind. The dim light of the bell tower cast deep shadows across his form, revealing his hunched back, a prominent eye, a slightly twisted mouth, and a shock of wavy ginger hair.
Madellaine's eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight before her. His misshapen features were more startling than she had imagined. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering the scream that wanted to escape. She had heard the stories, but she had never expected…this.
Quasimodo saw her reaction and stepped back, his voice filled with anguish. "S-see? I...I told you. I'm a monster."
Madellaine stammered, struggling to find her voice. "N-no, I-I didn't mean to… I h-have to go. I-I'm sorry," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without waiting for a response, Madellaine turned and fled the bell tower, her heart pounding in her chest and tears blurring her vision. No longer concerned with how her abrupt departure might make Quasimodo feel, she was too consumed by her fear and the urgent need to get away.
The narrow stairwell seemed to stretch endlessly as she stumbled down, her mind racing. She had to find Sarousch and convince him to change his plan, or at least get someone else from the circus to carry it out.
The thought of returning to the bell tower, to face Quasimodo again, was more than she could bear.
As she reached the bottom and burst through the front doors of the cathedral, the cool morning air hit her like a splash of cold water, grounding her for a moment, and making her shiver. She paused, breathing heavily, the weight of her decision settling in. For the first time, she realized that this plan involved real people with real feelings, and the image of the hunchback's stricken, hurt blue eyes haunted her.
But her fear was stronger than her guilt, and with a determined shake of her head, she set off to find Sarousch, her mind made up. She would not go back up to the bell tower.
No matter what.