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<h2> CHAPTER IV. THE DOG AND HIS MASTER. </h2>
<p>Nevertheless, there was one human creature whom Quasimodo excepted from
his malice and from his hatred for others, and whom he loved even more,
perhaps, than his cathedral: this was Claude Frollo.</p>
<p>The matter was simple; Claude Frollo had taken him in, had adopted him,
had nourished him, had reared him. When a little lad, it was between
Claude Frollo's legs that he was accustomed to seek refuge, when the dogs
and the children barked after him. Claude Frollo had taught him to talk,
to read, to write. Claude Frollo had finally made him the bellringer. Now,
to give the big bell in marriage to Quasimodo was to give Juliet to Romeo.</p>
<p>Hence Quasimodo's gratitude was profound, passionate, boundless; and
although the visage of his adopted father was often clouded or severe,
although his speech was habitually curt, harsh, imperious, that gratitude
never wavered for a single moment. The archdeacon had in Quasimodo the
most submissive slave, the most docile lackey, the most vigilant of dogs.
When the poor bellringer became deaf, there had been established between
him and Claude Frollo, a language of signs, mysterious and understood by
themselves alone. In this manner the archdeacon was the sole human being
with whom Quasimodo had preserved communication. He was in sympathy with
but two things in this world: Notre-Dame and Claude Frollo.</p>
<p>There is nothing which can be compared with the empire of the archdeacon
over the bellringer; with the attachment of the bellringer for the
archdeacon. A sign from Claude and the idea of giving him pleasure would
have sufficed to make Quasimodo hurl himself headlong from the summit of
Notre-Dame. It was a remarkable thing—all that physical strength
which had reached in Quasimodo such an extraordinary development, and
which was placed by him blindly at the disposition of another. There was
in it, no doubt, filial devotion, domestic attachment; there was also the
fascination of one spirit by another spirit. It was a poor, awkward, and
clumsy organization, which stood with lowered head and supplicating eyes
before a lofty and profound, a powerful and superior intellect. Lastly,
and above all, it was gratitude. Gratitude so pushed to its extremest
limit, that we do not know to what to compare it. This virtue is not one
of those of which the finest examples are to be met with among men. We
will say then, that Quasimodo loved the archdeacon as never a dog, never a
horse, never an elephant loved his master.</p>
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