He turned red，then white，then loosed his hold on her with a darkling look.Thinking herself victorious，she went on：'I tell thee I belong to my P us；that it is P us I love；P us，who is fair to look upon.Thou，priest，art old，thou art frightful.Get thee gone！'
He uttered a sudden scream，like some poor wretch under the branding-iron.'Die，then！'said he，grinding his teeth.She caught his terrible look and turned to fly；but he seized her，shook her，threw her on the ground，and walked rapidly towards the corner of the Tour-Roland，dragging her after him along the pavement by her little hands.
Arrived at the corner of the Place，he turned round to her.'For the last time，wilt thou be mine？'
'No！'
The next moment，'Gudule！Gudule！'he cried in a loud voice，'here is the gipsy！take thy revenge！'
The girl felt herself suddenly seized by the arm.She looked up，a skeleton arm was stretched through the window in the wall and was holding her in a grip of iron.
'Hold her fast！'said the priest.'It is the Egyptian woman escaped.Do not let her go；I go to fetch the sergeants.Thou shalt see her hang.'
A guttural laugh from the other side of the wall made answer to these bloodthirsty words.The gipsy saw the priest hurry away towards the Pont Notre-Dame，from which direction came the clatter of horses'hoofs.
The girl had recognised the evil-minded recluse.Panting with terror，she stove to free herself.In vain she writhed and turned in agony and despair，the other held her with incredible strength.The lean bony fingers that clutched her were clenched and met round her flesh—that hand seemed rivetted to her arm.It was more than a chain，more than an iron ring：it was a pair of pincers endowed with life and understanding，issuing from a wall.
Exhausted at last，she fell against the wall，and the fear of death came upon her.She thought of all that made life desirable—of youth，the sight of the sky，all the varying aspects of nature，of love and P us，of all that was going from her and all that was approaching，of the priest who was even now betraying her，of the executioner he would bring，of the gibbet standing ready.Terror mounted even to the roots of her hair，and she heard the sinister laugh of the recluse as she hissed at her：'Ha！ha！thou art going to be hanged！'
She turned her fading eyes towards the window and saw the wolfish face of the sachette glaring at her through the bars.
'What have I done to you？'she gasped，almost past speaking.
The recluse made no answer，but fell to muttering in a sing-song，rasping，mocking tone：'Daughter of Egypt！daughter of Egypt！daughter of Egypt！'
The unfortunate Esmeralda let her head droop on her breast，understanding that this was no human being.
Suddenly，as if the gipsy's question had taken all this time to reach her apprehension，the recluse exclaimed：
'What hast thou done to me，sayest thou？Ah，what hast thou done to me，gipsy！Well，listen.I had a child—I—hearest thou？—I had a child—a child，I tell thee！The fairest little daughter！My Agnes—'and she paused and kissed something distractedly in the gloom.'Well，seest thou，daughter of Egypt，they took my child from me；they stole my child！That is what thou hast done to me！'
To which the poor girl answered，like the lamb in the fable：'Alas！perhaps I was not born then！'
'Oh，yes，'rejoined the recluse，'thou must have been born then.Thou wert one of them.She would be about thy age—thou seest therefore！For fifteen years have I been here；fifteen years have I suffered；fifteen years have I been smiting my head against these four walls.I tell thee that they were gipsy women that stole her from me—dost thou hear？—and that devoured her with their teeth.Hast thou a heart？Picture to thyself a child playing，sucking，sleeping—so sweet，so innocent！Well，that—all that—was what they stole from me，what they killed！The God in heaven knows it！To-day it is my turn；I shall eat of the Egyptian！Oh，that these bars were not so close，that I might bite thee！But my head is too big.The poor，pretty thing！while she slept！And if they did wake her as they took her away，she might scream as she would；I was not there！Ah，you gipsy mothers that ate my child，come hither now and look at yours！'And she laughed again and ground her teeth—the two actions were alike in that frenzied countenance.
Day was beginning to dawn.As the wan gray light spread gradually over the scene，the gibbet was growing more and more distinct in the centre of the Place.On the other side，in the direction of the Pont Notre-Dame，the poor girl thought she heard the sound of cavalry approaching.
'Madame！'she cried，clasping her hands and falling on her knees，dishevelled，wild，frantic with terror；'Madame！have pity！They are coming.I never harmed you：will you see me die in this horrible manner before your very eyes？You have pity for me，I am sure.It is too dreadful.Let me fly；leave go of me，for pity's sake！I cannot die like that！'
'Give me back my child！'said the recluse.
'Mercy！mercy！'
'Give me back my child！'
'Let me go，in Heaven's name！'
'Give me back my child！'
Once again the girl sank down exhausted，powerless，her eyes already glazed，as if in death.
'Alas！'she stammered，'you seek your child；I—I seek my parents.'
'Give me back my little Agnes！'Gudule went on.'Thou knowest not where she is？Then die！I will tell thee.I was a wanton，I had a child，they stole my child.It was the gipsies.Thou seest plainly that thou must die.When thy mother the gipsy comes to seek for thee，I shall say to her，‘Mother，behold that gibbet！'Else give me back my child！Dost thou know where she is，my little girl？Here，let me show thee.Here is her shoe；'tis all that's left to me of her.Dost know where the fellow to it is？If thou knowest，tell me，and I will go on my knees to fetch it，even to the other end of the world.'
So saying，she thrust her other hand through the window and held up before the gipsy girl the little embroidered shoe.There was just light enough to distinguish its shape and its colour.