Re: Amnesia Filled! (1/5) thisismsmercyJuly 1 2011, 01:19:28 UTC
“I suspect you have been lying to me.” The words make Clopin shudder. The tone they are spoken in is frighteningly familiar to him- they would be to any criminal in Paris. Though Frollo may not be entirely aware of the fact, the words he speaks are the words of a Judge. Clopin shrugs, tosses his hat towards the dressing table nonchalantly. “What makes you say that, my friend?” “I remembered, last night as I slept, seeing you once before. You dress as a jester.” “Only on special occasions, your Honour,” he says with a wink. “Trouillefou, I would like you to bring me a bible.” “I’ll see what I can do. Will I be reading it to you as well, or can you manage by yourself? I could recite passages for you now, if you like!” With one hand behind his back and the other held to his heart, he looks to Frollo like a young schoolboy- eager, enthusiastic, and full of lies. “’There is only one lawgiver and judge’-” “No. I will be reading to you.”
*
He understands now that the source of this incomparable ecstasy is not what he had thought- had hoped- it was. He does not understand why the act is no less thrilling to him now. The well of guilt and excitement fills to the brim and then spills into masculine hands.
*
The bible is falling apart- it’s pages are torn, and the bound spine has been cracked and broken- but is still legible, at least. It is dropped beside him on the bed with irreverence as the gypsy man walks through the door. Frollo picks it up disdainfully, and looks to Clopin in anger. “I couldn’t manage to get a new one,” he says lightly, and at once all thoughts of the condition of the book are erased from Frollo’s mind, replaced instead by notions of where it might have come from. “Do you mean to imply that you stole this bible?” The gypsy says nothing, but spreads his hands and shrugs theatrically. “How will you account for this, should you ever manage to arrive at the kingdom of heaven?” Clopin is unfazed, and he continues to settle himself for the night- removing his hat, shoes, and gloves, hiding away a pouch of coins, finding his supply of clean bandages. “It’s been difficult, looking after you. I’ve had to work much harder than usual to make my money.” “And now you are looking for a hand out? This is all some way of illustrating a point.” Clopin pulls his stool up to the bed and takes the judge’s leg into his lap. Carefully, he pulls out the pins that fasten the dressings together. “Please humour me by refreshing my memory- when was it, precisely, that I asked you for anything?”
The words make Clopin shudder. The tone they are spoken in is frighteningly familiar to him- they would be to any criminal in Paris. Though Frollo may not be entirely aware of the fact, the words he speaks are the words of a Judge.
Clopin shrugs, tosses his hat towards the dressing table nonchalantly.
“What makes you say that, my friend?”
“I remembered, last night as I slept, seeing you once before. You dress as a jester.”
“Only on special occasions, your Honour,” he says with a wink.
“Trouillefou, I would like you to bring me a bible.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Will I be reading it to you as well, or can you manage by yourself? I could recite passages for you now, if you like!” With one hand behind his back and the other held to his heart, he looks to Frollo like a young schoolboy- eager, enthusiastic, and full of lies. “’There is only one lawgiver and judge’-”
“No. I will be reading to you.”
*
He understands now that the source of this incomparable ecstasy is not what he had thought- had hoped- it was. He does not understand why the act is no less thrilling to him now. The well of guilt and excitement fills to the brim and then spills into masculine hands.
*
The bible is falling apart- it’s pages are torn, and the bound spine has been cracked and broken- but is still legible, at least. It is dropped beside him on the bed with irreverence as the gypsy man walks through the door.
Frollo picks it up disdainfully, and looks to Clopin in anger.
“I couldn’t manage to get a new one,” he says lightly, and at once all thoughts of the condition of the book are erased from Frollo’s mind, replaced instead by notions of where it might have come from.
“Do you mean to imply that you stole this bible?”
The gypsy says nothing, but spreads his hands and shrugs theatrically.
“How will you account for this, should you ever manage to arrive at the kingdom of heaven?”
Clopin is unfazed, and he continues to settle himself for the night- removing his hat, shoes, and gloves, hiding away a pouch of coins, finding his supply of clean bandages.
“It’s been difficult, looking after you. I’ve had to work much harder than usual to make my money.”
“And now you are looking for a hand out? This is all some way of illustrating a point.”
Clopin pulls his stool up to the bed and takes the judge’s leg into his lap. Carefully, he pulls out the pins that fasten the dressings together.
“Please humour me by refreshing my memory- when was it, precisely, that I asked you for anything?”
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