'A droll rascal！'said the captain，'who thinks me obliged to run after every woman that loves me，or says she does；especially，if perchance she is anything like thee，owl–faced one！Go—tell her who sent thee that I am going to be married，and she may go to the devil！'
'Hark you！'cried Quasimodo，thinking with a single word to overcome his hesitation；'come，monseigneur，'tis the gipsy girl you wot of！'
This word did indeed make a tremendous impression on P us，but not the kind the hunchback expected.It will be remembered that the gallant officer had retired from the balcony with Fleur–de–Lys a few minutes before Quasimodo saved the condemned girl out of Charmolue's hands.Since then，in all his visits to the Gondelaurier mansion，he had taken good care not to mention the woman，the recollection of whom，after all，was painful to him；and Fleur–de–Lys，on her part，had not deemed it politic to tell him that the gipsy was alive.Consequently P us believed poor'Similar，'as he called her，to be dead，and what's more，for a month or two.Added to which，the captain had been thinking for some moments past that the night was pitch dark；that，combined with the sepulchral voice and supernatural ugliness of the strange messenger，it was past midnight；that the street was as deserted as on the night the spectre–monk had accosted him，and that his horse had snorted violently at sight of the hunchback.
'The gipsy girl！'he exclaimed，almost in fear.'How now，comest thou from the other world？'and his hand went to his dagger–hilt.
'Quick，quick！'said the hunchback，trying to lead the horse on.'This way.'
P us planted a vigorous kick in the middle of his chest.Quasimodo's eye flashed.He made as if to throw himself on the captain，but checked himself suddenly.'Oh，'he exclaimed，''tis well for you there's some one that loves you！'He laid particular stress on the'some one，'then dropping the horse's bridle，'Go your way！'he cried.
P us put spurs to his horse and galloped off，swearing lustily.
Quasimodo watched him disappear down the dark street.'Oh，'murmured the poor deaf hunchback，'to think of refusing that！'
He returned to the Cathedral，lit his lamp，and mounted the stairs of the tower.As he had surmised，the gipsy was where he had left her.
The moment she caught sight of him she ran to him.'Alone！'she cried，clasping her beautiful hands in despair.
'I did not find him，'answered Quasimodo coldly.
'You should have waited the whole night through！'she retorted vehemently.
He saw her angry gesture and understood the reproach.'I will watch better another time，'he said，hanging his head.
'Get you gone！'said she.
He left her.She was displeased with him.But he had chosen rather to be misjudged by her than give her pain.He kept all the grief to himself.
From that day forward the gipsy saw him no more；he came no more to her cell.At most，she would catch a glimpse now and then of the bell–ringer's countenance looking mournfully down upon her from the summit of a tower，but directly she perceived him he would vanish.
We must confess that she was not greatly affected by this voluntary withdrawal of the hunchback.In her heart she was grateful to him for it.Nor did Quasimodo delude himself upon the subject.
She saw him no more，but she felt the presence of a good genius about her.Her provisions were renewed by an invisible hand while she slept.One morning she found a cage of birds on her window–sill.Above her cell there was a sculptured figure that frightened her.She had given evidence of this more than once in Quasimodo's presence.One morning（for all these things were done in the night）she woke to find it gone.It had been broken away，and whoever had climbed up to that figure must have risked his life.
Sometimes，in the evening，she would hear a voice，concealed under the leaden eaves of the steeple，singing，as if to lull her to sleep，a melancholy and fantastic song，without rhyme or rhythm，such as a deaf man might make：
'Look not on the face，
Maiden，look upon the heart.
The heart of a fair youth is oft unsightly；
There be hearts that cannot hold love long.
Maiden，the pine's not fair to see，
Not fair to see as the poplar is，
But it keeps its green the winter through.
'Alas，'tis vain to speak like this！
What is not fair ought not to be；
Beauty will only beauty love；
April looks not on January.
'Beauty is perfect，
Beauty can do all，
Beauty is the only thing that does not live by halves.
The raven flies only by day，
The owl flies only by night，
The swan flies day and night.'
One morning when she rose she found two vases full of flowers standing at the window.One of them was of glass，very beautiful in shape and colour，but cracked；it had let all the water in it run out，and the flowers it held were faded.The other was of earthenware，rude and common，but it retained all the water，so that its flowers remained fresh and blooming.
I know not if she acted with intention，but Esmeralda took the faded nosegay and wore it in her bosom all day.
That day the voice from the tower was silent.
She did not greatly care.She passed her days in caressing Djali，in watching the door of the Gondelaurier mansion，in talking to herself about P us，and crumbling her bread to the swallows.
Besides，she had altogether ceased to see or hear Quasimodo.The poor bell–ringer seemed to have disappeared from the church.However，one night as she lay awake thinking of her handsome captain，she was startled by hearing the sound of breathing near her cell.She rose，and saw by the light of the moon a shapeless mass lying across her door.It was Quasimodo sleeping there upon the stones.
Chapter 5-The Key of the Porte Rouge