to the devil!"

"Listen," exclaimed Quasimodo, thinking to overcome his hesitation with
a word, "come, monseigneur! 'tis the gypsy whom you know!"

This word did, indeed, produce a great effect on Phoebus, but not of the
kind which the deaf man expected. It will be remembered that our gallant
officer had retired with Fleur-de-Lys several moments before Quasimodo
had rescued the condemned girl from the hands of Charmolue. Afterwards,
in all his visits to the Gondelaurier mansion he had taken care not to
mention that woman, the memory of whom was, after all, painful to him;
and on her side, Fleur-de-Lys had not deemed it politic to tell him that
the gypsy was alive. Hence Phoebus believed poor "Similar" to be dead,
and that a month or two had elapsed since her death. Let us add that
for the last few moments the captain had been reflecting on the profound
darkness of the night, the supernatural ugliness, the sepulchral voice
of the strange messenger; that it was past midnight; that the street was
deserted, as on the evening when the surly monk had accosted him; and
that his horse snorted as it looked at Quasimodo.

"The gypsy!" he exclaimed, almost frightened. "Look here, do you come
from the other world?"

And he laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

"Quick, quick," said the deaf man, endeavoring to drag the horse along;
"this way!"

Phoebus dealt him a vigorous kick in the breast.

Quasimodo's eye flashed. He made a motion to fling himself on the
captain. Then he drew himself up stiffly and said,--

"Oh! how happy you are to have some one who loves you!"

He emphasized the words "some one," and loosing the horse's bridle,--

"Begone!"

Phoebus spurred on in all haste, swearing. Quasimodo watched him
disappear in the shades of the street.

"Oh!" said the poor deaf man, in a very low voice; "to refuse that!"

He re-entered Notre-Dame, lighted his lamp and climbed to the tower
again. The gypsy was still in the same place, as he had supposed.

She flew to meet him as far off as she could see him. "Alone!" she
cried, clasping her beautiful hands sorrowfully.

"I could not find him," said Quasimodo coldly.

"You should have waited all night," she said angrily.

He saw her gesture of wrath, and understood the reproach.

"I will lie in wait for him better another time," he said, dropping his
head.

"Begone!" she said to him.

He left her. She was displeased with him. He preferred to have her
abuse hi