It was certainly curious that these stones fell one by one，but they followed quickly on one another.The Argotiers always felt two of them at once—one against their legs，the other on their heads.There were few that missed their mark，and already a heap of dead and wounded，bleeding and panting，lay thick under the feet of the assailants，who，now grown furious，renewed their numbers every moment.The long beam continued to batter the door at regular intervals like the strokes of a bell，the stones to rain down，and the door to groan.
The reader will doubtless have guessed ere this that the unexpected resistance which so exasperated the Vagabonds proceeded from Quasimodo.
Accident had unfortunately favoured the devoted hunchback.When he had descended to the platform between the towers，his ideas were in a state of chaos.He had run to and fro along the gallery for some minutes like one demented，looking down upon the compact mass of the beggars ready to rush the church，and calling upon God or the devil to save the gipsy girl.He thought of ascending the southern steeple and sounding the tocsin，but before he could have got the bell in motion，before the loud voice of Marie could have sent forth a single stroke，there would have been time to burst in the door ten times over.This was the instant at which the Vagabonds advanced with their lock-breaking instruments.What was to be done？
Suddenly he recollected that masons had been at work all day repairing the wall，the wood-work，and the roofing of the southern tower.This was a flash of light to him.The wall was of stone，the roofing of lead，the rafters of wood，and so enormous and close-packed that it was called the forest.
Quasimodo flew to this tower.The lower chambers in effect were full of building materials—piles of stone blocks，sheets of lead in rolls，bundles of laths，strong beams already shaped by the saw，several rubbish heaps—a complete arsenal.
Time pressed—the levers and hammers were at work below.With a strength multiplied tenfold by the consciousness of danger，he lifted an end of one of the beams—the longest and heaviest of all.He managed to push it through one of the loopholes；then，laying hold of it again outside the tower，he pushed it over the outer corner of the balustrade surrounding the platform and let it drop into the abyss below.In this fall of a hundred and sixty feet the enormous beam—grazing the wall and breaking the sculptured figures—turned several times on its own axis，like the sail of a windmill going round of itself through space.Finally it reached the ground，a horrid cry went up，and the black piece of timber rebounded on the pavement，like a serpent rearing.
Quasimodo saw the enemy scattered by the fall of the beam like ashes by the breath of a child；and while they fixed their superstitious gaze on this immense log fallen from the skies，and were peppering the stone saints of the doorway with a volley of bolts and bullets，Quasimodo was silently piling up stones and rubbish，and even the masons'bags of tools，upon the edge of the balustrade from which he had already hurled the beam.
Accordingly，no sooner did they begin to batter the door，than the showers of stone blocks began to fall，till they thought the church must be shaking itself to pieces on the top of them.
Any one who could have seen Quasimodo at that moment would have been appalled.Besides the missiles which he had piled up on the balustrade，he had collected a heap of stones on the platform itself.As soon as the blocks of stones on the parapet were spent，he turned to this latter heap.He stooped，rose，stooped and rose again with incredible agility.He would thrust his great gnome's head over the balustrade；then there dropped an enormous stone—then another and another.Now and then he followed a specially promising one with his eye，and when he saw that it killed its man，he grunted a'h'm！'of satisfaction.
Nevertheless the beggars did not lose courage.Twenty times already had the massive door which they were so furiously storming shaken under the weight of their oaken battering-ram，multiplied by the strength of a hundred men.The panels cracked，the carvings flew in splinters，the hinges at each shock danced upon their hooks，the planks were displaced，the wood smashed to atoms ground between the sheathings of iron.Fortunately for Quasimodo there was more iron than wood.
He felt，however，that the great door was giving way.Although he could not hear it，every crash of the battering-ram shook him to his foundation，as it did the church.As he looked down upon the Vagabonds，full of exaltation and rage，shaking their fists at the gloomy and impassive f de，he coveted for himself and the gipsy girl the wings of the owls flitting away in terror over his head.
His shower of stones was not sufficient to repulse the assailants.
At this desperate moment his eye fell on two long stone rain-gutters which discharged themselves immediately over the great doorway，a little below the balustrade from whence he had been crushing the Argotiers.The internal orifice of these gutters was in the floor of the platform.An idea occurred to him.He ran and fetched a fagot from the little chamber he occupied，laid over the fagot several bundles of laths and rolls of lead—ammunition he had not yet made use of—and after placing this pile in position in front of the orifice of the gutters，he set fire to it with his lantern.