One man in the crowd stood more absorbed than the rest in watching the dancer.  It was Claude Frollo, the archdeacon:  and though his hair was grey and scanty, in his deep-set eyes the fire and spirit of youth still sparkled.

When the young girl stopped at last, breathless, the people applauded eagerly.

“Djali,” said the gypsy, “it’s your turn now.”  And a pretty little white goat got up from a corner of the carpet.

“Djali, what month in the year is this?”

The goat raised his forefoot and struck once upon the tambourine held out to him.

The crowd applauded.

“Djali, what day of the month is it?”

The goat struck the tambourine six times.

The people thought it was wonderful.

“There is sorcery in this!” said a forbidding voice in the crowd.  It was the voice of the priest Claude Frolic.

Then the gypsy began to take up a collection in her tambourine, and presently the crowd dispersed.

Later in the day, when darkness had fallen, as the gypsy and her goat were proceeding to their lodgings, Quasimodo seized hold of the girl and ran off with her.

“Murder!  Murder!” shrieked the unfortunate gypsy.

“Halt!  Let the girl go, you ruffian!” exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, a horseman who appeared suddenly from a cross street.  It was a captain of the King’s Archers, armed from head to foot, and sword in hand.

He tore the gypsy girl from the arms of the astonished Quasimodo, and placed her across his saddle.  Before the hunchback could recover from his surprise, a squadron of royal troops, going on duty as extra watchmen, surrounded him, and he was seized and bound.

The gypsy girl sat gracefully upon the officer’s saddle, placing both hands upon the young man’s shoulders, and gazing at him fixedly.  Then breaking the silence, she said tenderly, “What is your name, M. l’Officier?”

“Captain Phaebus de Chateaupers, at your service, my pretty maid!” said the officer, drawing himself up.

“Thank you.”

And while Captain Phaebus twirled his mustache, she slipped from his horse and vanished like a flash of lightning.

“The bird has flown, but the bat remains, captain,” said one of the troopers, tightening Quasimodo’s bonds.

Quasimodo being deaf, understood nothing of the proceedings in the court next day, when he was charged with creating a disturbance, and of rebellion and disloyalty to the King’s Archers.

The chief magistrate, also being deaf and at the same time anxious to conceal his infirmity, understood nothing that Quasimodo said.

The hunchback was sentenced to be taken to the pillory in the Greve, to be beaten, and to be kept there for two hours.

Quasimodo remained utterly impassive, while the crowd which yesterday had hailed him as Lord of Misrule now greeted him with hooting and derision.