"Are you entering the cathedral?" we asked as they passed in and half closed the gate. To our relief a very earthly voice responded in matter-of-fact tones.
"Yes," it replied. "Do you want to enter also?"
It needed no further invitation. We passed through, and the gate was closed and locked. As we heard the sharp click and Quasimodo pocketed the key, we felt ourselves prisoners. All the possible and impossible stories we had ever heard of midnight murders and mysterious disappearances flashed through the brain. But the die was cast and we must follow. The enigma which even at the instant puzzled us was the motive for this midnight visit. We could think of none.
We stood for a moment in the space between the railings and the building. Repairs were going on; it had been turned into a stonemason's yard. The cold moonlight fell upon heavy blocks of marble lying about. There was an erection that looked for all the world like a gibbet, and we almost expected to see a ghostly skeleton dangling from its cross-beam.
Quasimodo moved on and opened a small south door. He entered and we waited whilst he took a lantern from the hands of the Shadow. It was lighted in a moment, and we found it to be a powerful electric lamp. Then we too passed in, and the door closed upon us. If we were to be murdered, it would not be in utter darkness. The lantern was brilliant, and threw around its ghostly lights and shadows. We are compelled to repeat the adjective, for everything was ghostly and weird.
The vast interior was lost in profoundest silence and gloom. No single light could reach the depths and spaces, but round about us the lantern lighted up the outlines of aisles and arches and pillars.
The effect was inexpressibly solemn. There seemed no limit to the space. We paced the aisles and thought them endless. Our footsteps awoke ghostly echoes. As far as could be discerned, we were surrounded by the loveliest, most refined outlines. Gothic aisles and arches were dimly visible. And still the Shadow followed Quasimodo, and still his footsteps made no sound.
Quasimodo walked in silence for a time, evidently enjoying our own silent delight and experience. His long arms and legs, his large head, his long-drawn, backward shadow, all suggested gnome-land. He swung the lantern about as though charmed and allured by all the fantastic effects it produced.
At last we felt we must break the silence.
"Why are you here?" we said. "May we ask? It seems so strange to be walking with you in this midnight space and darkness."