PHŒBUS.
Look at me, dear! I am playing no part!
ESMERALDA.
Alas, but I cannot look into my heart!
PHŒBUS.
To-night love shall make an entrance there!
ESMERALDA.
Wherever love enters, soon follows despair.
[She slips out of his arms and escapes. Phœbus, disappointed, turns to Quasimodo, whom the archers hold bound at the back of the stage.
PHŒBUS.