tdatn

The Drawing and the Noose
By Audrey. K

Paris. The heart and soul of France. A bustling city of both magnificent wealth and terrible poverty. Ladies and gentlemen lived highly in opulent luxury. Fine garbs of velvet and silk adorned their pale, slender bodies. Social life a cut gem. Family life a smooth pearl.
Yet amidst the vast revolving menagerie of beauty, they were blind to the total abject destitution just beyond their doorstep. Beggars, prostitutes and gypsies roamed the streets. They were the true owners of Paris. This was a city of confining, dark alleyways. Ideal hunting grounds for thieves and murderers. Yet through these mazes of cobblestone emerged Paris's newest elite.
"Papa, are we nearly there yet?" a girlish voice chimed from the darkness of the carriage.
"As a matter of fact, we're here. Just try to stay calm for a few more minutes, Constanza." a man's voice answered. His Italian accent as musical as the strumming of a lute. All the travelers hailed from the proud city of Florence. Antony and Maria were the triumphant, prosperous parents of four children. The eldest of the quartet were the three boys; Ramone, Vincenzo and Angelo. And then there was Constanza. The youngest of the family at fifteen years. Though a bright, pretty child, she was indeed quite different from her family. A jungle of curly black hair blossomed from her head. Its only confines: a satin hair ribbon. The Italian girl's face resembled that of an angel's. Thick, dark brows shadowed her gem-like eyes. A pronounced nose and full scarlet lips completed her visage, causing the hearts of many Florentine boys to skip a beat.
"Constanza Vittino! What have I told you about complaining!" a sharp voice scolded.
"A proper lady ought never to raise her voice in the company of others," Constanza recited blandly. Ever she first learned to talk, Madame Caprina had been assigned to guide the girl in the direction of refinement.
"Oh, at last! There's our new home now," Maria sighed with relief. Sitting gallantly in the Place de Grieve was the Vittino's new home. A handsome, three story chateau respectably kneeling before magnificent Notre Dame. Stepping out of the coach, Antony beheld the beautiful cathedral.
"What churches they have here, eh children?" the father boomed jovially.
"That's quite enough, Antony. We're all very tired. Lets just get our bags unloaded." Maria quickly turned her attention to the children.
"You'll go straight to bed for the rest of the day. No doubt spending all your time in the carriage, you probably haven't gotten much rest."

That next morning, everyone arose with the ascending sun. As always, Constanza awoke early while her brothers preferred to sleep the morning away.
"Angelo, Ramone, Vincenzo!" Maria shouted from the dining room. Within seconds the boys were dressed and sitting dutifully at the table. A short cook emerged from the kitchen, producing a handsome breakfast.
"Constanza! Don't slurp!" Madame Caprina nagged. Deeply ashamed, the young girl lowered her eyes. It wasn't unusual for a sick fancy of her tutor being stewed up for breakfast to pass her mind.
"Eat quickly, young lady. We must continue with your lessons."
A tiny groan escaped Constanza's lips.
While the boys found themselves welcome in their new academy, Constanza slumped against the back of her chair. Awaiting the imminent command to sit up straight. Birds chirped cheerfully just outside her window and the sun was shining brightly. A warm, soothing breeze blew through the open window, wafting through her billowy hair. And so the lessons began. Hours dragged on with droning music lessons and poetry readings. It was only late in the afternoon when Madame Caprina released Constanza from her studies.
"Make sure you get back within the hour. You know your mother detests your tardiness."

Squinting in the bright sunlight, Constanza took in the extravagant sight on Notre Dame. Its mighty form shilloutted against the glowing sky. Her emerald eyes gazing into the tiny carvings of the behemoth church, not a single statue escaped her attention. Suddenly a quick movement caught her eye. A tiny figure moved gracefully among the stone gargoyles. Hopping and playing without fear of the the tower's dizzying heights. Wringing her hands with anxiety, Constanza prayed silently that the little creature would not fall. Like a spark fanned into a flame, her curiosity began to grow. Running every which way she fought the blinding sun, grasping to get a better view of the strange little being. Nothing was going to keep her from this fascination.
SMACK!
Falling to the ground, Constanza gazed up at the stranger she had just collided into. A pair of beady eyes shadowed by a great, wide hat glared down at her. His long black cloak swept the ruddy, cobblestone street.
"Do watch where your going, young lady," the strange man scolded sternly.
"Sir, do you know that cathedral?"
"I should say so! I frequent it quite often."
"I saw someone up there."
"Gargoyles!"
"No, someone! I saw a person up there!"
"YOU SAW NOTHING OF THE SORT!"
Constanza stood in an angered daze as she watched the dark man march past her with a haughty air. A frown blackened her pretty face.
"Hmph! He thinks he can hide something from me. Now he should know better than that!"

Night time in Paris. So quiet were the streets, the rats could be heard skittering about the cobblestones. All the Vittino household lay asleep under their feathered bedclothes. Even the servants and cooks quietly snoozed in the dim moonlight. Yet within the dark solitude of sleep, only one was awake. Donning a simple ensemble so as to be less conspicuous, Consatanza was ready to put her plan into action. But along with the surging adrenaline, came a tiny fragment of dread that festered in the back of her mind. What if she was discovered? She had never left the safety of home unattended. No doubt if she were apprehended, there would be an imminent ear filling from Madame Caprina. But at that moment, Constanza didn't care about the aspect of punishment. With the heavy black cloak hanging around her shoulders, the young Italian woman was out the door.
The darkness swallowed up the girl with only the moon as her lantern. Groping through the dim streets, Constanza searched frantically for the great cathedral's shillouette. At last to the lost girl's delight, she looked up to the starry sky to see Notre Dame's towers looming overhead. Pushing the door open with all her might, the maiden ventured into the abyss. But sadly a sigh of disappointment escaped her lips. The nave was completely empty. The only signs of life were Constanza's own footsteps echoing off the the marble tiles. Her eager eyes darted every which way, hungry for the mystery.
"There's somebody in here. I know it!"
After wandering through a labyrinth of corridors and stained glass, Constanza found herself at a dead end, with only a plain door to appease her curiosity. Without so much as a second thought, she swung open the door, dashing up the winding staircase behind it.
Up and up she climbed. To the young girl's tired mind, the staircase seemed to go on forever. Every so often a window would display her ever growing ascent.
"Whew! The air's getting thin up here."
With her nails digging into the banister, Constanza fought to keep her footing on the steep stairs. So fatigued was she, her limbs felt pendulous and unwieldy. But eventually the long, serpentine staircase came to a halt with yet another door.

With quavering hands Constanza crossed the thresh hold into the cavernous belltower. Massive domes of iron and bronze swayed majestically above her head. She gazed right into the gaping maw of the biggest bell, its heavy clapper dangling precariously within its hollowed interior. It was all so magical.
"Master, is that you?"
A child's frightened voice, as sweet as a chirping bird, snapped Constanza from her reverie. Immediate she felt her blood turn to ice. She prayed with all her might that the man in the robes would not arrive. After a moments worth of agonizing silence, the young woman ventured forth.
What she beheld was possibly the oddest looking boy she had ever seen.
The child looked not a day over four years old, but he was quite small for his age. A fine crop of crimson hair fell behind his deformed shoulders, framing his distorted features. One eye resembled that of any child's. The other was half buried under a round, egg-like growth. A nose such as his could hardly be considered a nose. It was as though it were clay, and someone had callously smashed it into his face. But that voice! Its melodious strumming wafted through her ears as gently as a summer's breeze. With hypnotic grace, Constanza found herself moving towards the boy.
"Hello there," the girl called, trying to be as friendly as possible.
The child froze, his little fingers trembling with fear. Constanza stopped in her tracks. Perplexity creased her brows as she observed the little boy's eyes well up with tears.
"Don't be afrai-"
With a frightened cry, the hunchbacked creature turned on his heels and ran. Braying sobs choked his throat as he ran. Calling after him, Constanza tried her hardest to keep up with the child.
"Wait..come back! I just want to talk!"
The boy suddenly came to a halt, looking up into the worried green eyes of the panting Italian girl. Plucking a silken hankercheife from her bodice, the girl knelt down to the youngster's tiny size. With gentle hands she dabbed his wet cheeks. Though his ceasing to flee was a reward, the twisted child's shivering whimpers continued to disturb Constanza.
"See? I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk," the young woman reassured.
"T-t-talk?" the little boy quaked.
"Yes. You know what talking is?"
"I know. B-but I didn't think..."
"...anyone would ever talk with you?" Constanza aided. Her only answer was a quivering nod.
"I saw you this afternoon on the top of the tower and..."
With a wailing cry, the hunchbacked boy burst into tears, burying his little deformed face in his hands.
"M-master says I c-can't show m-myself," he sobbed piteously.
In a flourish, Constanza was at his side, trying her hardest to comfort him once again.
"No, don't worry, little one. I promise I wont tell yourr master. Who's your master anyway?"
"His name's Claude Frollo. He's tall and wears dark clothes."
Instantly Constanza's mind flashed back to her encounter with the same man she barreled into that day. His stern voice echoed in her ears. Telling her it was none of her concern what was up in the tower. It amazed her young mind that a secret such as this could be kept from an inquisitive girl like as herself.
"Now then, what are you doing up so late? I'm sure its past your bedtime."
Drying his eyes the little boy looked into Constanza's face, wringing his hands anxiously.
"I...had a bad dream," he answered shyly.
With a sincere smile, the girl took the child by the hand, leading him gently to his bed. Such a berth could hardly be titled a place of sleep. It was merely a low wooden platform stowed away in the darkest corner. Just above the ungainly bunk stood a creaking window. The bedclothes were mere rags which worried Constanza about the boy being cold. Climbing into bed and under the sheets, the little creature's eyes remained locked on the stranger.
"Still scared?"
The child nodded.
"Here, I know what will get you to sleep..."
Snuggling up next to him, Constanza proceeded to sing a lullaby in her native tounge. A melody her mother had sung to her when she still lay in swaddling clothes. Her symphonic rhapsody wafted through his mind, lulling him to sleep. Yet right as slumber overtook him, the question Constanza was burning to ask was released.
"Who are you, little one?"
Half asleep, the boy uttered the answer, though hardly audible.
"Quasi.....modo."

Morning in the city. The crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs heralded the coming of the dawn. All was calm and serene at the Vittino breakfast table. All except the very anxious Constanza.
"I say, my child. What has gotten you so excited?" Antony questioned.
"Oh, nothing Papa," Constanza suddenly burst out, completely taken off guard.
"Constanza, what have I told you about raising your voice!" Madame Caprina barked, snapping the girl backed into submission. All day long, the energetic child could hardly keep herself contained. Her fevered mind anxiously awaited for her chance to slip away. To run back to the cathedral and be with little Quasimodo. But the sun remained in the sky. A yawn distorted her pale face as she rested her chin on her fist. Discreetly Constanza rolled her eyes at the clucking of Madame Caprina.
"I wonder if Quasimodo is having this much fun," the girl dead panned to herself.
Meanwhile high in the north tower, little Quasimodo sat in the cool darkness. With a dull blade in hand, he carefully carved an intricate design in one of the wooden beams supporting the bells.
"How do you like it, Marie? I think it makes you look so pretty," said the boy to the massive bell. With reverence he stroked her metallic figure. The bells were truly the sparkle in his azure eyes. To him, they were a bevy of goddesses. Singing their sweet songs just for him. And to swing on their ropes was the highlight of the day.
"Good morning, Quasimodo,"
The child uttered a yelp as he gazed upon the tall form of Master Frollo. Even in the presence of his adopted child, the dark man kept his stern, unflinching spirit.
"G-g'morning master," Quasimodo murmured, keeping his eyes to the floor.
"Shall we review your letters today?"
"Yes, I would like that alot,"
The hunchbacked boy groaned under his breath at his answer. Learning his alphabet proved so incredibly difficult, it was an effort to keep himself from flying into a frustrated tantrum. After all, Frollo had never spared the time to read to him. To Quasimodo, the letters of the alphabet made little sense to him.
"Very well. What is a word that starts with the letter 'A'?"
The child's brow puckered in concentration. He searched deep within the recesses of his young mind for the answer. Fearing all the more what would happen if he remained indecisive. A frown began to crack Master Frollo ungainly visage. Squirming feverishly, little Quasimodo could not allow himself to look his master in eye.
Frollo could not endure the spectacle a moment longer.
"I thought as much! Here is your lunch."
With that the robed man disappeared down the corridor, out of the north tower. Leaving Quasimodo once again all by his lonesome. Never had he wanted the Italian girl more. Though still vaguely frightened of her, the girl's gentle touch and soothing Medditeranian dialect brought relieve to his shattered nerves.
That evening, Constanza once again began her travels to Notre Dame. She knew in her mind that Quasimodo missed her terribly. She could never believe a man like Frollo could offer any sort of paternal love. Hardly a second passed when she didn't consider running away with the deformed little boy.
"We could go home to Italy. Start a new life. He'd like it there, I know it!"
Constanza's thoughts consumed her so greatly that before she knew it, she found herself back in the tower.
"Quasi? Quasimodo, where are you? Ah, there you are."
A smile brightened her crimson lips as she watched the strange boy come galloping towards her.
"I missed you, 'Stanza," chirped little Quasimodo, hugging her affectionately around the leg. A sweet laugh twittered from her lips at the pronouciation of her name.
"I missed you too, little one. I couldn't stop thinking about you all day."
"Really?"
"That's right."
The two chattered on into the night. It delighted young Quasimodo to talk with a being of flesh. Though the bells and gargoyles always proved friendly towards him, Constanza was the finest of blessings. It was only when yawns began to distort the child's face was when the young woman ceased her visit. She watched him intently as he buried himself beneath the threadbare sheets.
"Quasimodo, I would like to ask you something."
"Uh huh?"
"Would you like to come to my house tomorrow? My parents and brothers shall be away at the market. How does that suit you?"
The hunchbacked boy jerked up from bed, forgetting sleep. To Constanza, it were as though she had just offered him the lost city of gold.
Or as if crickets were crawling out of her ears.
"I'd love that, 'Stanza."

Drumming her fingers against the arm of the divan. Constanza waited with agonizing impatience for her family to leave. With her brothers still in the classroom, it was only a matter of time until the rest of the household dispursed for the market.
"We're going now, Constanza. Are you sure you'll be alright alone?"
"Yes Mama."
"Very well, we'll be back in a few hours."
At the sound of the slamming door, the anxious girl dashed to the window. Licking her lips, she watched the carriage carrying her parents disappear down the street. Finally her opportunity arrived. Throwing on her cloak Constanza made a mad dash back to the cathedral. Hoping with all her might that Frollo would also be in the market.
Meanwhile as Angelo and Ramone labored over their studies, Vincenzo sat hunched over the tanned canvas. Completely engrossed in his newly finished masterpiece. A painting worthy of immortality, adorning the hollowed walls of a gallery.
"A work of art can never be appreciated until its spirit has been set free. Excellent work, Moussieur Vittino. Would you like to take your lunch break at home?"
With a smile on his paint-spattered face, Vincenzo gallantly strode out of the academy. The sun shining warmly on his face. Suddenly a musical flutter caught his ear. The sound of a flute whistled against the hum of the crowd. Following the exotic music, he beheld the most compelling scene he had ever witnessed. Three people, two men and one woman, pranced and leapt to the beat of the music. The men were heavily browned by the sun while the woman retained a somewhat fair skinned complexion. Though Apollo's golden sphere still left its mark on her skin. Suddenly the music stopped. Two armor clad soldiers marched over to the dancing trio.
"Alright, gypsy scum. You've been warned before, no dancing in front of the cathedral!"
The three street performers struggled to come up with an explanation. But the second guard was well prepared with wrist irons. A frown creased Vincenzo's brow. These people did not deserve such treatment. Marching up to the dancers, the young man had the perfect idea to get the trio out of danger.
"Oh, there you three are. I'm so glad I found you. The ringmaster has been looking all over for you." Vincenzo explained with mock relieve.
"You know these people?"
"I should say so. They're the main attraction in our circus. Sorry about the trouble. Carry on."

Vincenzo lead the dancing three away from the scene. But just as they reached the safety of the shadows, pairs of weather beaten hands pulled him into the darkness.
"Who are you? What do you want of me!" Vincenzo found himself bursting out.
"Permit me to introduce ourselves. I am Nicholao and these are my siblings, Zabella and Drev."
The young Italian struggled to remain calm. He found himself gazing straight into the beaming faces of the gypsies. The woman's eyes were truly something unbelievable. One eye, unquestionable brown. The other, a striking pale blue. But it was Drev the instilled fear in the perplexed Vincenzo. He was a giant. Strong and bulky. One swipe from his great hand would have sent the young man flying.
"You'll have to excuse our Drev. He's a mute." Zabella explained sympathetically.
"We want to thank you for helping us. But why?" asked Nicholao.
"Because you weren't doing anything wrong. Dancing in the square should not be a crime."
A smile crept onto the browned face of Drev. With his flute in hand, he began to play a happy melody.
"He likes you," Zabella explained.
"You're not like other nobles. Come see us again sometime."

With a gallant march, Vincenzo swept through the door of his new home. Yet his appearance remained far from chivalrous. Hideous blotches of crimson paint lay spattered on his face and smock. A large dirty palate knife protruded from his pocket.
"Hey 'Stanz, I'm home early."
A tiny gasp escaped Constanza's lips. The early arrival of one of her brothers was the last thing she expected. Quickly she ushered Quasimodo behind the door.
"Stay here, little one. Its just my brother. But I'll explain things to him."
Flustered, she stepped out into the sitting room to meet Vincenzo.
"Bonjorno, sister. You look very shaken, what's wrong?"
"Vincenzo, you must swear to me. Swear, as the only brother I'm close to, on our lives!"
"Keep your hair on, I swear already!"
"Alright...oh, and you better take off your smock."
"Beg your pardon?"
"You might scare him, genius one! And close your eyes as well."
Grumbling under his breath, Vincenzo removed his paint-spattered cloak. With a distainfull sigh, he clenched his eyelids closed.
"You're really pushing it, 'Stanz."
"I'm not coming out there until those eyes are closed!"
"Okay, they're closed!"
Within seconds Vincenzo found himself staring face to disfigured face with the little creature from Notre Dame.
"Constanza...."
"I can explain."
Quickly the girl relayed the story of Quasimodo to her intrigued brother, pouring her entire heart out about the neglectful Frollo and the terrifying lowliness inflicted on the boy. But the young artist could not remove his eyes from the child. A single tear rolled down his cheek
"You promise not to tell?"
Vincenzo nodded dumbly.

Never had Quasimodo been more excited and stimulated. He was running all about the house and pointing to random objects, craving their names. It became a struggle for Constanza and Vincenzo to keep up with the child. Within minutes the boy reached the final room in the mansion. The breezy seclusion of balcony. Sitting down on the stone floor, Quasimodo uttered a great happy sigh as he gazed up at his surroundings. Exotic botanical's bloomed with vibrant blossoms. Their perfume wafting through the warm air, enticing the sense of smell.
"There you are, Quasi. I was wondering where you got to."
Slowly Constanza knelt down beside him, enfolding her arms around his twisted little body. He yielded against her touch, sinking into her soft bosom. Being held was a new experience to deprived child. Never in his life had Frollo ever touched him in such a way.
And yet he felt no fright. The loving contact he craved had been given to him at last. Arching his head back lazily, he nesseled his face in the base of her neck. Feeling the gentle throbbing of her pulse. Slowly little Quasimodo felt the cocoon of peacefull sleep wash over him. Within minutes the child lay in slumber against his angel of mercy. Her ever present heartbeat echoing in his ear.

"Good day to you, sleepyhead. I was wondering when you'd wake up."
In a flourish Quasimodo's eyes flickered alive to see the sweet face of Constanza standing over him. He found himself lying on the velvet divan in the sitting room. Placed before him was a small platter of cheese and bread. The boy leapt upon the food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, making Constanza all the more concerned for Quasimodo's well being.
"Quasimodo, come sit by me. Vincenzo would like to draw us."
Obediently the child crawled onto Constanza's lap and into her open arms. Anxiously the two awaited the flamboyant young artist. As he strode into the room, Constanza flashed him one last menacing frown. That if the drawing were to ever come before the eyes of others, he would no longer be her brother. Vincenzo gulped nervously. He was well aware that she beheld great strength behind the silk and velvet. Placing the stick of charcoal to the paper, the craftsman penned their image on the parchemt sheet. Quasimodo remained perfectly still. He had never had a portrait of himself. His sensitive ears picking up the constant scratching of charcoal against the paper. Its abrasions crying out in din of silence. Only peering up occasionally, Vincenzo kept his eyes to his work. Minutes later, his work was finished.
"Its beautiful, Vincenzo."
By the rising of the full moon, Constanza raced back to the cathedral. Quasimodo clung to her neck, concealed under the heavy cloak. After hours of hurdling the steep tower stairs, Constanza yet again found herself within the child's home. Gaping yawns twisted the little creature's mouth as Constanza lay him down to bed.
"I'll see you tomorrow, little one."
But little did Constanza know, she was not alone. Hiding in the shadows was the epitome of treachery himself. Frollo was watching the entire spectacle. Rage bubbled within him, surging through his veins. He was outraged at the moxy of the Vittino girl. His fevered mind raced to think of a way to repay her insolence.
"I'll see you in the courts, my lady," he whispered
Midnight in Paris. With almost supernatural grace, Frollo marched by the side of Quasimodo's bed. The child was fast asleep. Unaware of the presence his formidable foster parent. With deft hands, the dark man proceeded to unlatch the old window, allowing the cold gusts into the tower. The embers in the fireplace were quickly snuffed.

The next day, all continued normally in the house of Vittino. While the three brothers made jokes behind their parent's backs, Constanza lethargically stirred her porridge. She never had much concern for her family's affairs. Especially those of her oafish siblings. All her thoughts revolved around the child in the tower. It pained her to be away from him all day. She knew he must miss her terribly.
"Constanza! Sit up straight."
The girl ground her nails into her palm. Anger simmered in her veins as her temples throbbed painfully. She could endure the incessant nagging no longer.
"I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!"
A hush fell over the breakfast table. Maria was on the verge of fainting at her daughter's sudden outburst. It was then Madame Caprina finally realized she may have pushed the girl too far.
"Leave me alone, all of you!!!"
With the slamming of the door Constanza sealed herself in her quarters, refusing the company of others. Even Vincenzo failed to win his sister's attention. But she wouldn't remain isolated for long.

"Quasimodo? Are you asleep, little one?"
Oddly her only answers were sickly coughs coming from the boy's bed. Instantly Constanza's heart fell. All day a haunting premonition had plagued her mind. She knew something terrible would come for little Quasimodo and it had. As gasp after gasp escaped her heaving throat, Constanza rushed to the child's bedside. Shivering violently, he weakly crawled into Constanza's eager arms, craving the warmth of her soft body. It was then when the young woman felt the chill in the room. This only made her venom for Frollo grow more potent.
Had he no compassion? No mercy?
Promptly she shut the creaking window and returned her attention to the ailing Quasimodo.
"I'll be right back, little one. Vincenzo will help you."
With a flourish, she removed the woolen cloak from her shoulders and swaddled it around the shivering boy.
"W-wont you be cold?"
"Don't worry about me. Now you just lay there and I'll be back before you know it."

"Vincenzo, wake up!'
"Well look who finally came out of seclusion!"
If it wasn't for her concern for Quasimodo, Constanza would have delivered a sound slap to his cheek.
"Never mind that. How much did your professor teach you about medicine?"
"Only a little. We just started-"
"Good enough. Come with me!"
Within minutes the brother and sister were trudging up the creaking stairs of the north tower. Poor Vincenzo had never been forced to endure such a hike and was panting for breath.
"Couldn't we stop for just a minute?"
"No, this is serious!"
Moments later the intrepid duo found themselves once again face to face with the little creature. Only now the child lay sprawled out in his sheets. His head swimming with nausea. Painfully his eyes swiveled up to see the worried faces of the Vittino children.
"Constanza...Vincenzo. You came back."
"Of course we did. We wouldn't leave you."
Hoisting the little boy out of bed, the girl placed the sickly Quasimodo on her lap. Exhausted by illness the hunchbacked child curled up under her bosom, wanting only to sleep.
"Now you do everything Vincenzo tells you, alright?"
With deft, gentle hands, the young man felt the boy's face in search of fever. Half asleep, Quasimodo barely seemed aware of him.
"Now open wide, like a frog about to snag a fly." The sick little creature did as he was told. With a furrowed brow, Vincenzo peered into his throat.
"All we have here is a little belly ache. To many sweets, I think."
Placing little Quasimodo back to bed, Vincenzo drew his sister aside.
"He's sick, but he'll be fine with some bed rest. Which is something we should both be doing."
With worried eyes Constanza watched Quasimodo stir under the sheets as she walked out the door.
"He'll be alright, 'Stanza."
"I can't leave him. He's just so small and helpless."
"Come on, its almost dawn. Mother will have our hides if she doesn't find us home."
It was almost dawn by the time Constanza and Vincenzo reached the nave below. Weak with exhuastion, the young woman leaned against the strong arm of her older brother. It had been so long since she had the luxury of a full nights sleep. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, the young pair gazed into the dim light of the fading night.
"There she is, men. Arrest her!"
Like a horde of wolves advancing on an unexpecting hare, several soldiers leapt upon the confused girl. But within the confusion, Frollo's deft hands slipped Constanza a death sentance. A chalice plucked from the cathedral's treasury had been sealed into the folds of the girl's cloak. With a great surge of strength, Vincenzo slithered free from the soldier's iron grasp.
"Let him go, men. She"s the one I want!" Frollo's voice boomed. With iron grips, the group of the soldiers hauled the kicking young woman into the shadowed streets.
Seething with panic, Vincenzo raced through the labyrinth of back roads and alley ways. Never had the taste of doom been so bitter. His dear little sister had been taken away from him and there was nothing he could do. Suddenly and idea bloomed in his frightened mind.
"Nicholao!...Zabella...Drev!!!"
His voice quivering with sobs, Vincenzo called desperately for his strange friends, their names reverberating along the towering walls of the city. Yet within minutes of his calls for help, the young man felt familiar hands pull him into the shadows.
"We've been waiting for you."
Once again the Italian man found himself staring into the discolored eyes of pretty Zabella.
"Please help me. My sister is in trouble!"
Gently, the young gypsy woman lead him down into the bowels of Paris. A sewer was their doorway into the underworld of the metropolis. Sloshing through the fetid sewage, Zabella shepherded the distraught young man through the maze of stinking, moldy tunnels.
"Nicholao, Drev, he's come back to us!"
Climbing up to a dry oasis in the sewer, Vincenzo found himself welcomed by a glowing flames of a fire. Huddled by its warmth were the familiar figures of Nicholao and Drev.
"Good evening," Nicholao purred. "Come sit down. Tell us of your troubles."
Seating himself by the light of the flames, Vincenzo relayed the story of Constanza's unlawful apprehension. The siblings listened with sympathy and understanding.
"Now you know our plight," Zabella said solemnly. "But right now we must find a way to free your sister."
For an hour, the three gypsies rattled off ideas to a hopeful Vincenzo. Though Nicholao's concepts were more of daring jail breaks than strategic planning. Suddenly their talk was interrupted by the gentle tapping of Drev on Zabella's shoulder. Gently taking her hand he silently mouthed words into her finger tips.
"He says, do you have something that could possibly blackmail Judge Frollo?"
Instantly a spark erupted within the depths of Vincenzo's mind. A spark that would set his dear sister free. In a flourish the young man rose to his feet, dumping the contense of his purse on the floor.
"For your help. Thank you my friends!"

"FROLLO!"
Erupting with rage, Vincenzo burst into the Judges private lair. Not caring an atom who stood in his way. His fists aching for a fight. An infuriated sneer darkened the treacherous man's lips.
"How did you get in here?"
"I've come for my sister!"
"I'm afraid its too late. She is already in prison-"
"MY SISTER! GIVE ME MY SISTER!"
The two men argued long into the morning. As the sun ascended into the heavens, Vincenzo no longer feared his parents anger. Crazed anger held an iron grip on his strangled mind. It became an incredible effort to keep himself from ripping out Frollo's throat barehanded. Suddenly Nicholao's words returned to him. His heart burning with the sweetness of revenge. With serpentine fingers, Vincenzo brought fourth the key to his sisters freedom. Though battered and smudged, the portrait of Constanza and Quasimodo was still painfully discernible. The color dripped from Frollo's sallow visage. His jaw quivering with shock.
"Perhaps I could just take this drawing to the print shop. Maybe show it to a few people," Vincenzo hissed venomously, dangling the drawing before the aghast Frollo.
"Perhaps we can work something out."
An uneasy silence fell into the brickwork room and the judge and the Italian boy worked out a compromise.
"It would be a great injustice to me if people know what is in that tower," Frollo uttered.
"Don't you think I know that already! And if you do not do as I say, that injustice shall become reality, Vincenzo snapped.
A heavy silence fell over the room as Frollo tried to come to a decision.
"Alright. I will let your sister go. But on one condition."
"Yes, anything."
"You and your family must leave Paris. Return to Italy as soon as possible."
A dumbstruck gaze incinerated Vincenzo's once hopeful smile. He stared back at the minister wide, incredulous eyes. Unable to believe the condition he had just agreed to. But he knew what he must do.
"It shall be done!"

With heavy hearts, the Vittino house hold gathered up their possessions for the move back home. Though in no hurry, the family moved with swiftness. Only Constanza and Vincenzo dare speak to one another. The other members of the house uttered not a word to the valiant children. To the noble clan, the brother and sister had broken the scared law of quiet conservatism. Sitting in the darkness of the carriage, Constanza gazed up at the behemoth church.
Tears oozed down her cheeks.
With the crack of a whip, the coach jostled down the street making its way out of the city. Constanza fought to catch one last glimpse of Our Lady, knowing her little Quasimodo was watching her leave.
"Arrevaderchi my angel. Know that I shall always be with you and that one day I shall return to you."

Copyright Audrey K.

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