on the gypsy's brilliant eyes.

On another occasion, he came to her with an awkward and timid air.
"Listen," he said, with an effort; "I have something to say to you."
She made him a sign that she was listening. Then he began to sigh, half
opened his lips, appeared for a moment to be on the point of speaking,
then he looked at her again, shook his head, and withdrew slowly, with
his brow in his hand, leaving the gypsy stupefied. Among the grotesque
personages sculptured on the wall, there was one to whom he was
particularly attached, and with which he often seemed to exchange
fraternal glances. Once the gypsy heard him saying to it,--

"Oh! why am not I of stone, like you!"

At last, one morning, la Esmeralda had advanced to the edge of the roof,
and was looking into the Place over the pointed roof of Saint-Jean le
Rond. Quasimodo was standing behind her. He had placed himself in that
position in order to spare the young girl, as far as possible, the
displeasure of seeing him. All at once the gypsy started, a tear and a
flash of joy gleamed simultaneously in her eyes, she knelt on the
brink of the roof and extended her arms towards the Place with anguish,
exclaiming: "Phoebus! come! come! a word, a single word in the name of
heaven! Phoebus! Phoebus!" 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 extraor-dinary
agitation,--"Oh! there he is alighting from h