[Comprehensive Classics] Killing the Classics

The archdeacon neither nodded nor shook his head: "Follow me, and all your questions will be answered."

Anya subconsciously blurted out: "No."

"You dare to disobey me?" The man showed a fierce look on his face, staring at Anya viciously.

Anya took a step back, and said calmly: "We must maintain the plot within a certain range now, right? So I shouldn't go with you at this time."

"Haven't you already lost your memory? How did you know when to come with me?" the archdeacon said aggressively, his voice raised.Anya was worried that he would attract others, but the surrounding area was quiet, and none of the windows that gradually lit up were opened.It seems that he used some special means to make people not pay attention here.This person's attitude is really frightening. If he really took the act of taking Anya away without warning in advance just to fulfill the plot, why is he acting so strong now, as if he didn't regard Anya as an equal human being, but Like facing a female slave?And the desire in his eyes is not fake...

But now Anya can't do anything, because she has no strength.Without the ability to compete with the opponent, she must endure, even in the face of humiliation.What is this attitude?Back then she had met...

Encountered...encountered what?Anya was in a daze for a moment.At that moment just now, it seemed that some fragments of memory flashed through his mind.But she had absolutely no memory of what it was.What happened to her in the first place?Has she ever been humiliated?

"You can draw a conclusion after analyzing it. This kind of thing is easy to guess." Anya calmed down and said nonchalantly, "If it weren't for that, with your strength, you should be able to easily avoid the patrolling team and take me away." Come on? But you have not only abandoned me to Phoebes, but you have also abandoned Quasimodo... Isn't that very suspicious? So I guess there must be some reason why you have to do this .Besides maintaining the plot, I can’t think of any other reason now. The only thing I wonder is, why do you want to maintain the plot? Is this your task?”

"You are not qualified to question me yet. But I have emphasized it several times, as long as you follow me, you will know everything."

"But if I go with you, it's tantamount to destroying the plot. You let Phoebus save me and capture Quasimodo, and you acted vulnerable. How could the 'Vicar of Frollo' come later?" How about snatching Esmeralda quietly? So if you do this, you will destroy what you have worked hard to maintain. I will meet you and leave you, but not now. I want to use your ability , it's not difficult to do this, right?" Anya said in a steady, unhurried manner.She couldn't let the other party see her timidity, otherwise the slight advantage she had won before would disappear.

"Your eloquence is very good, Esmeralda." The archdeacon said coldly, then turned and walked into the shadows.Then, as if suddenly, the street was filled with small noises again.From a window facing the street, a child shouted: "... eat this!"

The cold wind blew past, and Anya shivered from the cold.Only then did she realize that she was in a cold sweat.Looking around, Vicar Frollo had long since disappeared.Anya regained her composure, and quickly walked towards the slum with the beauty.

In any case, she escaped for the time being.

--------------

Compared with Anya's luck, the poet who followed her into the alley was unlucky.After entering the alley, he quickly lost his way and didn't know where to turn; he wanted to turn around and go back, but he turned several forks, and every road seemed to be exactly the same, so he couldn't tell where he was. path of arrival.Gringoire had no choice but to walk forward sullenly, looking around, trying to find someone who could show him the way.However, except for a few children who ran past him like the wind, he encountered nothing along the way.He was blocked everywhere in the intricate dark streets and alleys, in a dilemma. He really wanted to go back to the Palace of Justice and ask the gatekeeper to take him in for a night, but he couldn't find the way to come.At last he couldn't bear it anymore, and cried out with seriousness: "The cursed fork! The devil made it in the likeness of his paws!"

After shouting, he felt a little relieved.Then he saw a faint red light coming from the end of the street.He regained his vigor and dragged his weary legs to the other side, hoping to find someone who was still wandering the streets at this point.If he had stopped those urchins just now, perhaps he would not have fallen into such a situation now; after all, who is more familiar with the streets and alleys of Paris than beggars, thieves and urchins?

While walking, Gringoire discovered some unusual places.The small alley is slanted downward, there is no gravel on the road, and from the touch of the feet, the road is gradually getting muddy.But this alley is not desolate, along the way, it seems that there are some strange-shaped things crawling on the ground everywhere, all with the same purpose as him, crawling towards the flickering light at the end of the street.Relying on his own poverty and courage, Gringoire quickly caught up with one.Only when I got closer did I realize that it was a poor legless wretch, crawling over there with his hands on the ground, and a distressed voice came out: "Please, sir, please!"

There were many handicapped people begging along the way, but Gringoire had been honed by life to have a hard-hearted heart wrapped in a romantic shell. He himself was penniless and had nowhere to stand, let alone charity, and even Deliberately sneaked into this bunch of beggars.

However, these people did not intend to understand Gringoire's difficulties, nor did they intend to let him go at all. They followed him and shouted, calling for relatives and friends to surround him.The poor poet had nowhere to hide among these blind, lame, and lepers. He was blocked in either direction, and three beggars were chasing after him.He knew very well that he would never end well if he went on like this, so he was frightened out of his wits and ran around in the crowd.He really wanted to run back, but it was too late, a large group of people had already blocked his retreat, pushing him forward like an unstoppable wave.Gringoire felt as if he had had a nightmare, and ran forward in a daze, and finally rushed into a wide open space.

There were dots of lights on the open space. Before Gringoire could look carefully, he was caught and brought before the king of the kingdom.That's right, this is the kingdom of slang, and the old nature here is the miracle king.The hat on Gringoire's head was taken off, and the king bowed his head condescendingly, and spoke to him condescendingly from the throne: "Who is that villain?"

Gringoire shuddered. He recognized the voice, but he did not seem to recognize the person.Before he could figure out what his situation was, he was forced to introduce a group of kings, grand dukes, and emperors, and the three announced the trial.He tried to plead his innocence, but the crowd cheered wildly, regardless of whether he was really guilty or not, and were very proud of their king's decision.Those so-called grand princes, emperors, and those vicious accomplices all came towards this side, surrounded him, detained him firmly, and wanted to hang the poet.

Gringoire was genuinely frightened, but still thought he was dreaming.Now that his life was in danger, he had almost given up his efforts, but the leader of the beggar gang declared that he could let Gringoire join them.The poet was overjoyed and couldn't get what he asked for, but the king said unswervingly: "I have to tell you, no matter what, I will execute you."

"Damn it!" Gringoire was about to despair again.It was not until he stood on an old rickety stool to be hanged that he realized that there was no reason to speak to these people, and that the laws of the people of the kingdom of slang were at odds with that of the citizens of Paris. world.So he had no choice but to hold his head up, ready to send his own neck into the devil's trap.But as long as there is still a little luck in his heart, he wants to fight for his life again; it's just that these beggars basically don't give him any chance, they are willing to talk, but it's all for fun.The poet was really desperate this time, trembling when he saw the three people who were about to rush towards him for execution.

Clopin Truyph, the boss of the Black Talk Kingdom, suddenly remembered something, and stopped the execution: "Wait a minute! I forgot!...According to the usual practice, if we want to hang a man, we have to ask Is there any woman who'd want him—it's your last chance, man. Either you marry a beggar, or you'll hang yourself with a noose."

Gringoire could not believe it. This was the second time he had escaped within half an hour.He was not too sure of his luck, but he breathed a sigh of relief, watching Clopin mount his throne, and shouted down: "Oh, hello! Women, women, witches or witches among you Is there any woman who wants this man? Colette Charona! Elizabeth Truwan! Simone Joduina! Marie Piedbou! Tona Long! Bellard Fanuel! Michelle Genay! Claude Longe-Aurée! Maduren Giroreau! Hello! Isabeau Thierry! Come and see all of you! Send a big man! Who wants it?"

The down-and-out poet is in the midst of being lost, and his appearance is not much better than that of a beggar.The beggars were indifferent to the marriage, but enjoyed watching him hanged for fun.Gringoire couldn't help thinking to himself: "Damn! Am I going to die here today?"

But still three girls came out from the crowd and looked at him for a while.But for various reasons, the poet was not attractive enough, so he was still run away by the girls.Clopin exclaimed: "My boy, it's your turn! No one wants it? No one wants it?"

The people below were very happy, watching their king perfectly imitate the tone of the auction appraiser: "One-two-three! Auctioned!"

Several executioners approached Gringoire together, ready to hang him.But at this moment, a voice rang out from the Black Talkers: "Esmeralda! Esmeralda!"

Gringoire shivered again, and took advantage of the last moments of his life to look towards the side where the noise came from.Looking at it like this, he was stunned: Isn't this the beauty he lost just now?Isn't this the Egyptian girl dancing in the square?

There must be a contrast in everything, so that the better side is more precious.After talking with the archdeacon, Anya was exhausted physically and mentally, but her languid demeanor and dusty appearance still looked radiant among the group of filthy beggars, like a shining lamp.In this unreasonable miracle dynasty, everyone seems to be fascinated by her amazing charm.They lined up in two rows obediently, allowing her to pass through the middle.

Accustomed to going through big winds and waves, Anya didn't think there was anything wrong with this kind of welcoming battle.She led the beauty through the crowd with a calm demeanor, and saw the person standing on the stool ready to be tortured at a glance.The poet looked distraught, half dead.Anya looked at him with interest for a while, then turned to look at Clopan: "Are you going to hang this man?"

"Yes, my sister," King Dina replied, "if he can become your husband, that's another matter."

Anya raised her beautiful eyebrows and sized up Gringoire.Fate sent this person to him again and again, of course not to let him be hanged in front of him.From the memory of Esmeralda, she knew the practice of the kingdom of black words.If she offered to keep this person, it would be equivalent to entering into a marriage relationship with him.But what is the hindrance?Anya nodded and said, "I want it."