GRINGOIRE (in a low voice to Claude Frollo): Come, come, Reverend Master. I hear the guards. But you have the power to lift their barriers in the streets. All the same, I think you were wrong to not tell Quasimodo of our plan. Who was that poor devil your bell-ringer threw over the rampart of the gallery?
CLAUDE FROLLO (shivering): I don’t know and I don’t care. Go now, go. Return to the barge.
ESMERALDA: Gringoire! Are you leaving us?
GRINGOIRE: I’ll be back. I’m going to the barge to get Djali.
ESMERALDA: But who are you leaving me with?
GRINGOIRE: Oh. With someone who’s very devoted to you, don’t worry.
(He leaves quickly.)
ESMERALDA (calling after him): Gringoire! Don’t leave! Where are you? (suddenly noticing Claude Frollo) Who are you? (Frollo raises his hood) Oh no! The Devil!
CLAUDE FROLLO: This is the Place de la Greve. There is the gibbet. We’ve reached the end. Fate has delivered us to each other. I shall decide your life and you, my soul. Don’t speak to me of your Phoebus! If you speak his name, I don’t know what I will do, but it will be terrible. There’s a Special Warrant ordering me to deliver you to the scaffold. I just received it. The King’s Guards are after you. Listen to them!
SHOUTS (in the distance): The Gypsy girl! Where is the Gypsy girl?
CLAUDE FROLLO: I can save you right now. I’ve planned everything. It shall be as you wish. Whatever you wish, I can do. (violently interrupting himself) No, that’s not enough. (taking her left hand and pointing her to the gibbet) The gibbet, you see it. Choose between us.
ESMERALDA (going to the gibbet): It terrifies me less than you.
CLAUDE FROLLO: You do hate me so much then! Why, you cannot even raise your eyes to look at me. (Esmeralda starts to speak) No, don’t speak to me of this Phoebus! Look, I will tear not just words, but my heart and my very guts from my breast to tell you that I love you. And yet it all seems so futile. You have nothing in your soul but tenderness and mercy for all–but none for me. You shine with the most radiant love. Yet, for me and me alone, you are an evil that must be extinguished. O, please, give me a word of kindness. Say a word, only a word!
ESMERALDA: I belong to my Phoebus. It’s Phoebus who is handsome, it’s Phoebus whom I love!
CLAUDE FROLLO (with a terrible scream): Ah!
(He grabs Esmeralda and drags her towards the cell.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: Die then!
ESMERALDA (with terror): Where are you taking me?
CLAUDE FROLLO: One last time. Will you be mine?
ESMERALDA: No.
CLAUDE FROLLO: La Sachette!
SACHETTE (standing up): What do you want with me?
CLAUDE FROLLO: Here’s a Gypsy. Avenge yourself.
SACHETTE (grabbing Esmeralda’s hand through the bars): Ha! The Gypsy girl.
CLAUDE FROLLO: Hold her tight. Don’t let her go. I am going to find the King’s Guards. You will see her hang.
SACHETTE (with a mad laugh): Ha! Ha! Ha! Daughter of Gypsies. You are going to hang.
ESMERALDA: What have I done to you?
SACHETTE: What have you done to me? What did you do to me, Gypsy girl? Listen! I had a daughter. Me! A pretty young girl. Well, Gypsy girl, your people took my child away from me. They stole her from me! That’s what you did to me!
ESMERALDA: But I wasn’t born then.
SACHETTE: Oh, yes, you were! My daughter was around your age. Do you have a heart? Imagine a baby playing, nursing, sleeping–so innocent. Well, that’s what your people took from me. The poor child! While she slept! And if they had awakened her when they took her, it wouldn’t have done any good, for I wasn’t there. Ah, you Gypsies devoured my child. Now come see yours hang! Ha! Ha! Ha!
ESMERALDA (on her knees, terrified): Madame! Madame! Have mercy! The guards are coming. I never did anything to you. Do you want me to die in this horrible manner before your eyes? Let me go. Please release me! Mercy. I don’t want to die like that.
SACHETTE: Give me back my child.
ESMERALDA: Mercy!
SACHETTE: Give me back my child.
ESMERALDA: Release me in the name of Heaven.
SACHETTE: Give me back my child!
ESMERALDA: Alas, you seek your child. And me, I seek my parents.
SACHETTE: Return her to me. You don’t know where she is? Well then, be prepared to die! Here, let me show you... This is her slipper; all that remains of her. Do you know where is its twin? If you do, tell me and I will let you go and find her, even to the ends of the Earth. On my knees, I so swear!
ESMERALDA (shivering): That slipper! Show it to me again. God! O God! (with her free hand, she opens the bag around her neck)
SACHETTE: Go! Go! Search your Devil’s amulet.
ESMERALDA (pulling a little identical slipper from the sack) I have its twin!
SACHETTE: My daughter?
ESMERALDA: My Mother!
SACHETTE: Your hand! Give me your hand! (throwing herself on Esmeralda’s hand, kissing it, weeping) Oh, the wall. Oh, to see her and not hug her! Wait!
(She runs to the stone which served as her pillow and digs it up with her hands.)
SACHETTE: Move away!
(She hurls the stone at the bars, which break loose. Then she pulls herself through the window.)
SACHETTE: Come! Come! Now I pull you back from the abyss.
(Grabbing Esmeralda, she pulls her into the cell.)
SACHETTE: My daughter! My daughter! I have my daughter back! Come here everybody! Is there anyone here to see that I have my daughter back? Lord God, how beautiful she is. You made me wait 15 years, my good God. But it was to make her beautiful for me. It’s really you. So that’s why my heart jumped every time you passed. I mistook it for hate. Oh, forgive me! You thought me bad, didn’t you? But now I love you. Your pendant around your neck. Have you always had it? Let’s see. She still has it. Oh, how beautiful you are. It’s I who made those big eyes there. Oh, I love you so much. Now I no longer care about the other mothers who have their own children. They can come and look at mine now! Marvel at her neck, her eyes, her hair, her hands. All my beauty is gone, but hers is here. My God! My God! Who would have believed it? I have my daughter back.
ESMERALDA: Oh my mother. The Gypsy women told me. There was a good woman of our tribe who died last year and who always took care of me, like a nurse. It was she who put this bag around my neck. She always told me: “Little one, guard this carefully. It’s a treasure. It will enable you to find your mother someday.” She predicted it, the old Gypsy woman.
SACHETTE: You say that so sweetly. My God! What a pretty voice you have. When you speak, it’s like music, Ah, my Lord God, I’ve found my daughter again. Nothing can hurt me anymore for I am suffused with joy.
(Outside, we hear the noise of galloping horses.)
ESMERALDA: Ah! The King’s Guards! Save me! Save me, my mother. They’re coming.
SACHETTE: Oh, Heavens! I’d forgotten! They’re after you. What did you do?
ESMERALDA: I don’t know, but I’ve been condemned to death.
SACHETTE: To death! To death!
ESMERALDA: Yes, Mother. They intend to hang me. They’re coming to take me. That gibbet is for me. Save me! Save me! They’re coming.
SACHETTE: Oh! No, it’s a nightmare you’re telling me. I lost you for 15 years, and when I find you again, it lasts only a minute. No, no, God! That thing is not possible.
A VOICE (outside): This way, Messire Provost. The Archdeacon said we would find her at the cell of the Recluse.
SACHETTE (with a scream of despair): Escape, my child! Everything’s coming back to me! You’re right. It’s your death. Save yourself.
(Tristan l’Hermite, several Guards and the Torterue the Executioner appear.)
SAQCHETTE (low): Stay here. Don’t breathe. Hide in the corner.
(Esmeralda hides, squatting in a corner of the wall as Sachette runs to the window.)
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Old woman! We seek a wi
tch to hang her. We were told you had her prisoner.
SACHETTE: I don’t know what you mean.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Don’t lie to me! I’m the Provost of the Guard. The Archdeacon gave you a witch to watch. What did you do with her?
SACHETTE: If you speak of the young girl that was holding my hands before, she bit me and I had to let her go. She ran away. That’s all I know. Now, leave me alone.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: She ran away! Which way did she go?
SACHETTE: By the Rue du Mouton, I think.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Impossible. It’s still fenced off.
SACHETTE: Ah! Well, she must have fled by the river then.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: There’s no boat there. God’s head, old woman, you’re lying! I feel like letting this witch go and taking you instead. A quarter of an hour on Master Torterue’s rack will draw the truth from your throat. You’re coming with us.
SACHETTE (eagerly): As you wish, Messire. Yes, yes. The rack, indeed. I obey. Take me there at once. Let’s go! (low to Esmeralda) Meanwhile, you run away.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE (laughing): God’s blood! What an appetite for the rack! Come on, men, she really is as crazy as they say. (looking towards the square) Ah! I see the rest of my men have arrived. They’ll help us find that girl. I won’t rest until that Gypsy witch dances at the end of a rope.
(He leaves with the Guards.)
SACHETTE (turning, radiantly to her daughter): Saved! You’re saved!
VOICE OF PHOEBUS (in the square): No, Provost, no! That’s not my business, hanging witches. I’m a soldier.
(Esmeralda, at Phoebus’ first word, runs to the window.)
ESMERALDA: Phoebus! Help me, my Phoebus!
SACHETTE (pulling her violently back): Foolish girl! Stay back!
(She replaces the bars with her two hands, leaning on the stone like claws. But it’s too late: the Provost and his men stride back.)
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Ah! Ah! Here’s your witch, Master Torterue. Take her!
EXECUTIONER: Which one, Provost?
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: The young one.
EXECUTIONER (approaching the window): Madame–
SACHETTE (in an angry voice): What do you want?
EXECUTIONER: Not you. The other one.
SACHETTE: What other one?
EXECUTIONER: The girl.
SACHETTE: There’s no one here! No one! No one!
EXECUTIONER: Come! You know quite well the girl’s in here with you! Let me take her. I mean you no harm.
SACHETTE (with a strange sneer): Ah! You mean me no harm! Me!
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Come on, Master Torterue! Hurry up!
EXECUTIONER: Er, Messire, how do I enter?
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Through the door.
EXECUTIONER: There isn’t any.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Through the window then.
EXECUTIONER: It’s too narrow.
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Let the men enlarge it.
(Two Guards rush out.)
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: But, God’s Head, what’s wrong with you, old woman? Why prevent this witch from being hanged as the King ordered?
SACHETTE (hysterical): What’s wrong with me? She’s my daughter!
TRISTAN L’HERMITE (shivering despite himself): Ah... (after a pause) I’m sorry for it, truly I am, but the King’s orders must be obeyed. Break down the wall, men!
(The two men return with picks and axes and begin to remove the stones next to the window.)
SACHETTE: Oh! This is too deadful! You’re worse than brigands! Are you really going to take my daughter away? Cowards, butchers, murderers.
(Two large stones are finally removed. La Sachette, arms extended, blocks the opening with her body.)
SACHETTE: Help! Help!
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Now take the girl.
SACHETTE (formidable): Over my dead body! A thousand curses upon whom who seizes my daughter!
(The Guards back away.)
TRISTAN L’HERMITE: Come on! My men, afraid of an old woman! Let’s be done with this. (threateningly) Or there’ll be Hell to pay...
(Three men advance resolutely.)
SACHETTE (with a terrible scream): Ah! Wait!
(She rushes out of the cell and falls at the Provost’s feet.)
SACHETTE: Messire! You don’t know her story. She’s no witch. She’s my daughter that I lost. Yes, the Gypsies took her and hid her from me for 15 years. I thought she was dead. Imagine, my good friends, that I thought she was dead! I cried so much that the Good Lord heard me. He returned my daughter to me. You can’t take her away from me. Do what you will with me, I won’t resist. But she, she’s but a child. Give her time to see the Sun. You’re so good, all of you! You didn’t know that she is my daughter. Now, you do. Oh, Messire, you have a mother. In her name, I implore you: leave me my child. The King! You mentioned the King? It won’t give him any joy to kill my little daughter. And besides, she’s my daughter, not the King’s, not yours. Oh, say the word and we’ll leave together and live in exile, just two women, mother and daughter. Let us go, I beg you. You can’t take my darling little girl from me, you just can’t. She’s my child! My child! My child!
TRISTAN L’HERMITE (low to the Executioner): Finish up quickly!
(The Guards take a step toward Esmeralda, who remains shivering at the entrance of the cell. She utters a scream and rushes into her mother’s arms.)
ESMERALDA: Mother! Mother! They’re going to take me away. Protect me!
SACHETTE (clasping her in her arms and covering her with kisses): Yes, my love, yes, I’ll protect you.
TRISTAN THE HERMITE (to the Executioner): Finish, I tell you.
(The Executioner grabs Esmeralda under the shoulders.)
ESMERALDA: No! No! Please! Mother! Please!
(The Executioner drags Esmeralda, but La Sachette still clings to her. One of the Guards, with some effort, manages to tear the Old Woman away. But she escapes and rushes Torterue and bites his hand. He lets out a scream and slaps her violently. She reels back, twists around and falls heavily on the pavement.)
SACHETTE: Ah.
(She remains motionless–dead. The Executioner continues to carry off Esmeralda, who has fainted.)
CURTAIN
Scene XII
The Northern Tower of Notre-Dame
A three-leveled stage representing a cut-out of the top levels of the Northern Tower of Notre-Dame. The lower level is a landing between two flight of stairs, with a wooden door on each side, one going down, the other up. The second level, or landing, is the same, except with the clockwork machinery of the Bell Tower. The third, or top level, is the summit of the Tower. There is an openwork balustrade and a bird’s eye view of Paris and the river Seine below.
(Claude Frollo enters the lower level left, from the door leading down; he looks haggard.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: Where to flee from that horrible spectacle?
(An angry Quasimodo enters soon after.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: Leave me! One last time, I order you to leave me! Why did you follow me since the Place de Greve? You look like a wild beast!
QUASIMODO: A wild beast indeed. Who has always been my only Master? You! And what have you taught me? Violence, crime. To kill what you hate. To kill what you love. So I’m going to kill you. Do you still have the knife with which you struck the Captain? Defend yourself then. If not, I will kill you with the knife which you used against me.
(He rushes Claude Frollo, knife in hand. The Archdeacon tries to run towards the door through which he entered, but Quasimodo easily bars his way.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: Help!
QUASIMODO: You won’t escape so easily.
(The pursuit begins. Claude Frollo then runs towards the door to his right, leading upstairs, and takes it. Quasimodo follows.
When he reaches the second level, he tries to lock the wooden door which similarly separates the stairway from the landing. But Quasimodo holds it back. There is a fierce struggle between the two as each
pushes the door from his side. Quasimodo finally proves the stronger and erupts on the second landing. Again, knife in hand, he goes after Claude.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: Murderer! You’re going to be a murderer!
QUASIMODO: I already am. Because of you, I murdered your very own brother last night. It was him I threw to his death from this very Tower!
CLAUDE FROLLO: Help! Help!
(Running from Quasimodo, Frollo manages to open the other door leading to the top of the Tower. As Quasimodo strikes, he avoids the blow, slips through the door and manages to lock it behind him.)
QUASIMODO (uttering a cry of rage): Damn!
(He puts his massive shoulder to the door and it creaks under his power, but doesn’t give way. Quasimodo then grasps it with both hands and succeeds in raising it from its hinges. He then rushes after Claude Frollo. Meanwhile, the Archdeacon has arrived breathlessly on the platform.)
CLAUDE FROLLO: I’m saved. That oak door is between him and me. From here, I can call for help. (leaning over) Help! Help. Oh, help will surely come.
(Quasimodo rushes in.)
QUASIMODO: Not in time to avoid punishment. (showing him a point in the distance) From here, you can see the Place de Greve. From here, you can behold your latest crime. That sweet and angelic creature now hangs from that grim gibbet. Here, I no longer need that knife to render justice.
Frankenstein vs The Hunchback of Notre-Dame Page 14
