THE DOG AND HIS MASTER.

Nevertheless, there was one human creature whom Quasimodo excepted from his malice and

from his hatred for others, and whom he loved even more, perhaps, than his

cathedral: this was Claude Frollo.

The matter was simple; Claude Frollo had taken him in, had adopted him, had

nourished him, had reared him.

When a little lad, it was between Claude Frollo's legs that he was accustomed to

seek refuge, when the dogs and the children barked after him.

Claude Frollo had taught him to talk, to read, to write.

Claude Frollo had finally made him the bellringer.

Now, to give the big bell in marriage to Quasimodo was to give Juliet to Romeo.

Hence Quasimodo's gratitude was profound, passionate, boundless; and although the

visage of his adopted father was often clouded or severe, although his speech was

habitually curt, harsh, imperious, that

gratitude never wavered for a single moment.

The archdeacon had in Quasimodo the most submissive slave, the most docile lackey,

the most vigilant of dogs.

When the poor bellringer became deaf, there had been established between him and Claude

Frollo, a language of signs, mysterious and understood by themselves alone.

In this manner the archdeacon was the sole human being with whom Quasimodo had

preserved communication. He was in sympathy with but two things in

this world: Notre-Dame and Claude Frollo.

There is nothing which can be compared with the empire of the archdeacon over the

bellringer; with the attachment of the bellringer for the archdeacon.

A sign from Claude and the idea of giving him pleasure would have sufficed to make

Quasimodo hurl himself headlong from the summit of Notre-Dame.

It was a remarkable thing--all that physical strength which had reached in

Quasimodo such an extraordinary development, and which was placed by him

blindly at the disposition of another.

There was in it, no doubt, filial devotion, domestic attachment; there was also the

fascination of one spirit by another spirit.

It was a poor, awkward, and clumsy organization, which stood with lowered head

and supplicating eyes before a lofty and profound, a powerful and superior

intellect.

Lastly, and above all, it was gratitude. Gratitude so pushed to its extremest limit,

that we do not know to what to compare it.

This virtue is not one of those of which the finest examples are to be met with

among men.

We will say then, that Quasimodo loved the archdeacon as never a dog, never a horse,

never an elephant loved his master.