“You’ve really not changed a bit, have you, Belle?”
“He was a friend of my Papa’s,” Belle replied. “He’s alright as a guardian. He’s just so... cold and distant sometimes. And he hates gypsies. I don’t know why.”
Clopin shrugged, wisely. “Some people are just afraid of what they don’t understand.”
“Esme zei that earlier,” Belle sighed. “It’s horrible. Just because u don’t understand something it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. I can’t believe those men rubbed horse dung into Pocahontas’s hair.”
“Some people are just horrible, Belle, u can’t change the world.”
“No, but I could understand them doing it if she were a thief of a murderer of something, but there’s nothing wrong with gypsies. What harm do they do?”
Clopin laughed and nudged her. “You’ve really not changed a bit, have you, Belle?”
She blushed. “Well, my parents never saw anything wrong with gypsies. They always treated them right, gave them any spare change when they had it.”
“I know. I remember.”
They walked on in silence for a while. “I miss them,” Belle said, finally.
Clopin glanced at her sadness. “You know, when u truly love someone, they’re never really gone forever.”
Belle looked up into his dark brown eyes and felt another feeling in her stomach, not excitement, but...a sudden fondness for him. “Sometimes I like to think they’re still watching over me...with the angels.”
Silence again as they moved through the city square and towards the cathedral. Belle felt relieved at the sight of it, and yet a part of her wished she could still just turn and go back to the Court of Miracles with Clopin. As they approached, the doors flew open and Frollo strode out, followed door the Archdeacon and a few of Frollo’s soldiers.
“Where have u been?” exclaimed Frollo, clapping his hands to Belle’s shoulders and glowering at Clopin over her head.
“Thank the Heavens you’re safe, child,” the Archdeacon said, embracing her.
Frollo fixed Clopin with a look that made the gypsy feel very uneasy. “What have u done to her?”
Belle quickly turned to him, intending to rescue Clopin from Frollo’s wrath. “Nothing, Frollo; Clopin here saved me from some very unkind men who tried to attack me. He saw them off and brought me home.”
“The Heavens smile on you, lad,” the Archdeacon zei to Clopin, crossing himself in blessing.
Frollo, however, didn’t look convinced. He held out a hand, however, to Clopin and said, with a stiff smile, “Then I believe thanks are in order.”
Suspecting nothing, Clopin put his hand in Frollo’s and immediately found himself held door the scruff of the neck. To Frollo’s mind, all gypsies were criminals in some form, and some he knew still bore the brands of their criminal days. Clopin did beer such a brand, and now Frollo, with a snel, swift yank at the neck of his tunic, exposed it to the rest. “Had a brush with the law, have we, gypsy?” he snarled.
Belle stared at the burnt skin, black against Clopin’s gypsy colour. It spelt out a prison number; 24601. Clopin looked both stunned that Frollo had guessed this and apologetic towards her. Belle roused herself. “Frollo-”
“Take him and put him in a cell,” Frollo demanded of his soldiers, thrusting Clopin at them.
“No!” Belle exclaimed as they surrounded Clopin and swiftly bound him.
“We can’t have people like that roaming the streets,” Frollo snapped. “Belle’s luck she wasn’t killed.”
“I’m no killer!” Clopin insisted.
“Maybe not, but u can’t deny you’re a criminal,” Frollo sneered. He nodded to his soldiers. “Take him away.”
“No-!” Belle’s cry was cut short as the Archdeacon put an arm around her and led her back into the cathedral. “It will all work itself out in the end,” he whispered. “You’ll see.”
Belle hurried after Frollo. “Frollo, please! u can’t do this!”
“The man’s a criminal and a gypsy!” Frollo snapped at her. “You’ve seen the evidence for yourself!”
For once, Belle stood her ground. “A brand like that could mean anything! He could have been falsely accused of something!”
“Rot!” Frollo pivoted to her. “The man’s a sinner; and all sin must be purged! Haven’t I always taught u that?”
“But u can’t judge him for that!” Belle cried.
Frollo stared at her. “Then how should I judge him?”
“By what’s on the inside! He’s a good man; if he were really a criminal, he wouldn’t have saved me-”
“Saved?” Frollo threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, my poor girl, u are so confused! Gypsies never help people! They’re only out for themselves!”
“That’s not true!”
“Believe me, child, I know.”
“You know nothing!” Belle’s frustration hit boiling point. “You think what u do to people like them is right, but it’s not! They’re not vermin of devils, they’re just people, like u and me!”
“Gypsies are nothing like us, u little blasphemer!”
“Yes, they are! We are all God’s people, no matter how we live our lives! The only sinners are the people who treat others the way u do!”
Belle often wondered afterwards if what followed volgende simply happened because Frollo didn’t know what to do with her. At any rate, it both shocked and terrified her. Frollo brought back his hand and slapped her. Belle squealed as she was knocked to the floor. Staring up at Frollo’s thunderous expression she raised her hand to her cheek, feeling the heat where he had struck her. In such a temper, she could think of only one way to calm him, and that was to cry.
It did the trick. Watching her tears fall, Frollo relented. “Oh, my dear girl,” he said, in a dangerously soft voice as he bent beside her. “You really have been taken in door his words, haven’t you? It isn’t your fault. It’s the Devil in him that’s tried to trick you. Remember, after all, our Lord was once tested door Satan.”
Belle shivered as he put a hand under her arm and guided her to her feet. The only thing to do was to agree with him. “Yes, Frollo.”
“Hush, Belle.” With cold fingers he wiped her tears away. “The Lord understands. He forgives you.”
Pretending to hang her head in shame, Belle tried to think of how best she could help Clopin. “Then, perhaps, as my penance, I should deliver the meals to the prisoner. Such is my shame for being lead on so, perhaps I deserve to spend a little time each dag near a sinner.”
She hated herself for describing Clopin as such when she knew he was nothing of the sort, however, it did the trick. Frollo smiled. “That’s my girl. Yes, such shall be your penance.”
Belle bowed her head, turned and walked quickly away. Some of her tears were very real. Her cheek stung where he had struck her and she was frustrated and scared of incurring his wrath again. But meer than that, she wanted Clopin to be out of the prison. There had to be a way to do that.
She made her way down to the keuken-, keuken and threw together a quick meal of bread, cheese, grapes and a bottle of water, and then headed down to the Palace of Justice. The guards gave her a wary glance.
“Yes, Miss?” asked one of them, waiting for her to state her business.
“I have been told to give the prisoner food,” Belle said, feeling rather like a robot as she zei it.
The guards moved apart and allowed her access. Inside the Palace of Justice, Clopin sat gloomily on a bench inside a prison cell that was, without a key, inescapable. When Belle approached, however, he sat up and his face lit up when he saw who it was. That served to make Belle feel worse. She placed the plate on the floor and leaned against the bars. “This is all my fault.”
“How is it your fault?” Clopin asked, surprised.
“I should never have gone out so late at night. You’re only in prison because of me. I’m so sorry.”
“Belle, it’s fine.” Clopin spread his arms, trying to seem cheerful. “I’ve been in worse scrapes than this.” He dropped to the floor and picked up a slice of bread. “Do u mind? I haven’t eaten.”
“I brought it for you,” Belle said, biting her lip to keep from crying again.
“Even when we’re grown, u bring me food. This is getting to be a habit, isn’t it?” Clopin joked.
Falling to her knees in front of him, Belle couldn’t stop the silent tears this time. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“It’s fine. Well,” he added, as an afterthought, “no, it’s not fine, really. Gypsies don’t really do well inside stone walls, but...” He waved a hand, letting the sentence trail off.
Belle raised her head. “I have to get u out of here.”
“Belle-”
“You can’t stay in here. You’re a gypsy. You’re supposed to be free.”
Clopin sighed. “Don’t do anything dangerous just to help me.”
Belle threw a glance over her shoulder. The guards were still at their post, out of earshot, and not looking over at them. She looked back at him. “Could u find your way back to the Court of Miracles alone?”
Clopin let out a hollow laugh. “Belle, I could find my way back there blindfolded!”
“Good, because I have a plan.” She lowered her voice. “I know every inch of this place; I explored a lot when I was a child. This area is honeycombed with secret tunnels. There’s one just over there.” She gestured towards the uithangbord on her right with her head. “It leads out to the docks. No one else knows it exists. All we’d need to do is subdue the guards and unlock the cell door.” She bit her lip. “Getting the keys will be easy once I figure out how to subdue the guards.”
“But you’d be putting yourself at an incredible risk,” Clopin pointed out.
Belle took a deep breath. “It’s worth it...to do the right thing.”
Clopin looked into her eyes and saw that there was no way she was going to back down. He gave in. “Alright. I’ll be ready.”
Belle nodded. “I’ll think of something; I promise.”
“Belle.” Clopin caught her hand as she made to get up, and then, reaching through the bars, he kissed her forehead, a simple, childish gesture but it filled her with an immense brand of passion. Clopin smiled at her. “Thank you.”
"Take him and put him in a cell!"
"But you can't judge him for that!"
"I have to get you out of here."
