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Dance La Esmeralda Judge Claude Frollo hated the Festival of Fools. Perhaps "hated" was too soft of a term. He "hated" the gypsies, that was certain; but the festival was far beyond that. It was all that made his frame recoil in disgust clustered into one atrocious holiday. The wide, cackling grins of the gypsies that the judge so despised now plagued even the most respectable of citizens. Those abominable smiles, platforms of jagged teeth riddled with slivers of golden caps (no doubt fashioned from stolen coins), now riddled the entire city in a similar manner. The bright colors of the gypsy garbs were enough of an eyesore when assigned t

When Frollo woke to a sliver of sunlight across his eyes. At first he moaned, rubbing his face into the pillow to hide from the shine before lifting his head and blinking against the harsh blaze. It was then when the clarity hit him. Still naked from the previous night's passion, he sat up with a jolt and glanced over to the opposite side of the bed, searching for the naked frame of his gypsy maiden. But Esmeralda was gone. He felt through the covers to see if any warmth lingered, but the surface was cold, he then noticed the blood stains that smeared the soft fabric. He knew forthwith what it was when he peeked beneath the covers at his ow