Phœbus!" Her voice, her face, her gesture, her whole person bore the heartrending expression of a shipwrecked man who is making a signal of distress to the joyous vessel which is passing afar off in a ray of sunlight on the horizon.
Quasimodo leaned over the Place, and saw that the object of this tender and agonizing prayer was a young man, a captain, a handsome cavalier all glittering with arms and decorations, prancing across the end of the Place, and saluting with his plume a beautiful lady who was smiling at him from her balcony. However, the officer did not hear the unhappy girl calling him; he was too far away.
But the poor deaf man heard. A profound sigh heaved his breast; he turned round; his heart was swollen with all the tears which he was swallowing; his convulsively-clenched fists struck against his head, and when he withdrew them there was a bunch of red hair in each hand.
The gypsy paid no heed to him. He said in a low voice as he gnashed his teeth,—
"Damnation! That is what one should be like! 'Tis only necessary to be handsome on the outside!"
Meanwhile, she remained kneeling, and cried with extraordinary agitation,—
"Oh! there he is alighting from his horse! He is about to enter that house!—Phœbus!—He does not hear me! Phœbus!—How wicked that woman is to speak to him at the same time with me! Phœbus! Phœbus!"
The deaf man gazed at her. He understood this pantomime. The poor bellringer's eye filled with tears, but he let none fall. All at once he pulled her gently by the border of her sleeve. She turned round. He had assumed a tranquil air; he said to her,—
"Would you like to have me bring him to you?"
She uttered a cry of joy.
Oh! go! hasten! run! quick! that captain! that captain! bring him to me! I will love you for it!"
She clasped his knees. He could not refrain from shaking his head sadly.
"I will bring him to you," he said, in a weak voice. Then
