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She was only sixteen . Her life had been happy and free until then , and she could not bear the pain . “ You know , ” said Charmolue kindly , “ that if you confess , you will die . ” “ I hope so , ” she said , and she fell back on the bed . Then Charmolue read out his questions , and to each of them she said “ Yes ” . Yes , she had gone to the meetings of witches at night . Yes , she had seen the devil . Yes , with the help of the devil and the ghost monk , she had killed Captain Phoebus . The clerk wrote it all down . Back in the court , the judges listened to a long speech in Latin , and then they gave their sentence . On a day chosen by the king , at noon , the gypsy girl would be taken in a cart to the great door of Notre - Dame , in a white shirt , with bare feet and a rope round her neck . There she would ask God’s pardon with a candle in her hand . Then she would be taken to the Place de Grève and hanged . The goat would die with her . Gringoire went out of the court into the street , feeling sick and very sad . “ It is a terrible thing , ” he said to himself , “ and the poor goat ! ” X . In the Dark Prison They put Esmeralda in a cell deep under the Palace of Justice , so deep that no light and no sound from the world above could reach her . She lay on a little straw in the cold and the wet , with a chain on her leg , a jug of water and a piece of bread beside her . She did not know if it was day or night , and she hardly knew if she was alive . The dances in the sunny squares , the laughter of the crowd , the sweet words of Phoebus , the priest , the dagger , the blood and the torture all passed before her eyes like a dream , sometimes golden and sometimes terrible . One day , or one night , a door opened above her head , and a man in a long black hood came down the steps with a lamp . He stood and looked at her for a long time without speaking . “ Who are you ? ” she asked at last . “ A priest , ” he said , and the word made her shiver . “ Are you ready ? ” he asked in a hollow voice . “ For what ? ” “ To die . ” “ Oh , ” she said , “ will it be soon ? Why did they not do it today , and finish it ? ” And when he asked if she was very unhappy there , she answered , “ I am very cold , ” and she rubbed her bare feet with her small hands . The priest looked round the dark , wet cell . “ No light , no fire , the water , the rats , ” he said . “ And what had you done ? You were happy , and I was the one who was in hell . ” Then he pushed back his hood . She saw his face , the face that had looked at her above the head of Phoebus , with the dagger next to it , and she screamed and hid her face in her hands . “ Oh , the priest ! It is you ! It was you who did it ! It was you who killed him , my Phoebus ! ”
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