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Description
Another version of this [link] . To see it in it's best shape click on "download".

Frollo and Esmeralda.
Characters belong to Victor Hugo.
Also inspired by the song "Creep" by Radiohead. Listen to it here: [link] - I think, this fits dom Claude so much it gives me the "creeps".

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"Oh!" said the priest, "young girl, have pity upon me! You think yourself unhappy; alas! alas! you know not what unhappiness is. Oh! to love a woman! to be a priest! to be hated! to love with all the fury of one's soul; to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's vitals, one's fame, one's salvation, one's immortality and eternity, this life and the other; to regret that one is not a king, emperor, archangel, God, in order that one might place a greater slave beneath her feet; to clasp her night and day in one's dreams and one's thoughts, and to behold her in love with the trappings of a soldier and to have nothing to offer her but a priest's dirty cassock, which will inspire her with fear and disgust! To be present with one's jealousy and one's rage, while she lavishes on a miserable, blustering imbecile, treasures of love and beauty! To behold that body whose form burns you, that bosom which possesses so much sweetness, that flesh palpitate and blush beneath the kisses of another! ...
She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh. "Look, father, you have blood on your fingers!" The priest remained for several moments as though petrified,with his eyes fixed upon his hand.
"Well, yes!" he resumed at last, with strange gentleness, "insult me, scoff at me, overwhelm me with scorn!"
(Victor Hugo)

Description
Another version of this [link] . To see it in it's best shape click on "download".

Frollo and Esmeralda.
Characters belong to Victor Hugo.
Also inspired by the song "Creep" by Radiohead. Listen to it here: [link] - I think, this fits dom Claude so much it gives me the "creeps".

------
"Oh!" said the priest, "young girl, have pity upon me! You think yourself unhappy; alas! alas! you know not what unhappiness is. Oh! to love a woman! to be a priest! to be hated! to love with all the fury of one's soul; to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles, one's blood, one's vitals, one's fame, one's salvation, one's immortality and eternity, this life and the other; to regret that one is not a king, emperor, archangel, God, in order that one might place a greater slave beneath her feet; to clasp her night and day in one's dreams and one's thoughts, and to behold her in love with the trappings of a soldier and to have nothing to offer her but a priest's dirty cassock, which will inspire her with fear and disgust! To be present with one's jealousy and one's rage, while she lavishes on a miserable, blustering imbecile, treasures of love and beauty! To behold that body whose form burns you, that bosom which possesses so much sweetness, that flesh palpitate and blush beneath the kisses of another! ...
She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh. "Look, father, you have blood on your fingers!" The priest remained for several moments as though petrified,with his eyes fixed upon his hand.
"Well, yes!" he resumed at last, with strange gentleness, "insult me, scoff at me, overwhelm me with scorn!"
(Victor Hugo)