THE DOG AND HIS MASTER.
Nevertheless, there was one Quasimodo from his and from his for others, and he loved more, perhaps, than his cathedral: this was Claude Frollo.
The was simple; Claude Frollo had taken him in, had him, had him, had him. When a little lad, it was Claude Frollo’s that he was to refuge, when the dogs and the children after him. Claude Frollo had him to talk, to read, to write. Claude Frollo had him the bellringer. Now, to give the big in marriage to Quasimodo was to give Juliet to Romeo.
Hence Quasimodo’s was profound, passionate, boundless; and although the of his father was often or severe, although his speech was curt, harsh, imperious, that for a single moment. The had in Quasimodo the most slave, the most lackey, the most of dogs. When the deaf, there had been him and Claude Frollo, a language of signs, and by themselves alone. In this manner the was the being with Quasimodo had communication. He was in with but two in this world: Notre-Dame and Claude Frollo.
There is nothing which can be with the of the over the bellringer; with the of the for the archdeacon. A from Claude and the idea of him would have to make Quasimodo himself from the of Notre-Dame. It was a thing—all that physical which had in Quasimodo such an development, and which was by him at the of another. There was in it, no doubt, devotion, attachment; there was also the of one by another spirit. It was a poor, awkward, and organization, which with and a and profound, a powerful and intellect. Lastly, and above all, it was gratitude. Gratitude so pushed to its limit, that we do not know to what to it. This is not one of those of which the examples are to be met with among men. We will say then, that Quasimodo loved the as a dog, a horse, an elephant loved his master.
