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1482

Quasimodo remembered how Esmeralda was trying her hardest to put on a brave face when Phoebus introduced his fiancée to them. Fleur-de-Lys de Gondelaurier was indeed a woman of majestic beauty: she was tall, had blonde hair tied in a thick braid behind her back and her eyes were grey with a tinge of blue. The rumour had it Fleur-de-Lys and Phoebus had already been together several years before, but the man’s service in the army had separated them. As of late, they reunited by chance, as Fleur (as she preferred to be called) also happened to participate in helping Clopin’s people to resettle the Court of Miracles somewhere else, in a place other than the catacombs. The woman’s actions ruffled the feathers of some of the more snobbish and affluent members of the de Gondelaurier family, but Fleur didn’t care.

Well, Esmeralda thought, Phoebus wouldn’t want to be with someone who lacks courage or who is insensitive to those in need.

It was November now. Esmeralda and Phoebus hadn’t been together since April. The man, now reinstated as the captain of the guards, rekindled his romance with Fleur-de-Lys in May. Following the couple’s nuptials in November, Esmeralda still felt some strange sadness about the situation. Grieving over heartbreak took time, she was sure of it. Phoebus certainly wasn’t the first or the last man she’d ever fallen in love with. However, she didn’t like the fact that Quasimodo could clearly see that she wasn’t entirely herself at the moment, that she couldn’t truly and honestly express her gratitude when the bell ringer gave her a wooden figurine. The figurine was incredibly detailed and it showed her in a very dynamic, vibrant pose, hair flying as her red-and-purple skirt, which was adorned with a bouquet of blooming violets attached near Esmeralda’s left hip, swirled around her as the dancer looked up with a bright smile on her face, with her left hand preparing to beat the rhythm of the tambourine she was holding in her other hand.

Quasimodo was obviously too kind to mention Esmeralda’s rather moderate enthusiasm, with a smile never reaching her eyes, when she took a hold of the miniature wooden likeness of her, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Esmeralda simply didn’t like the gift that much (and she wouldn’t dare tell him) or if the pure joy visible on the face of the figurine reminded her too much of the fresh wound inflicted by the fact that Phoebus had moved on so quickly. Quasimodo silently hoped his friend would find some of her happiness with a new partner someday because, in a way, he knew how the woman felt. He knew the pain of seeing a loved one choose another.

1483

In March, the time came for Esmeralda and Clopin to go to Rouen. Apparently, they were visiting some other members of their group who had previously run away from Paris to escape Judge Frollo’s power.

“Would you like to come with us?” Esmeralda asked Quasimodo right before going away.

The bell ringer would have loved to go to Rouen, but his mind was still adjusting to life in Paris. He still hadn’t entirely recovered either from how Frollo had lied to him and abused him for so long, or from the judge’s death a little over a year before. He needed some time alone.

Instead, Quasi gave Esmeralda a bouquet of primroses and surprisingly early forget-me-nots. He blushed when Esmeralda hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Safe travels, Esmeralda,” Quasimodo whispered.

“Good luck to you, too,” Esmeralda said, smiling at her friend.

“I think you have an admirer.” Clopin chuckled with a half-smile on his face.

“He’s a good friend,” the dancer replied, rolling her eyes.

“Well, the starstruck gazes he always gives you might suggest something else if you ask me.” Clopin eyed his sister slyly. “But what do I know?” He shrugged his shoulders.

Having got in their vardo, Esmeralda looked up at Notre Dame’s towers for the last time.

“I’ll come back, Quasimodo,” she said.