"It was beautiful in the Paris I visited," he said, feeling a little wistful. "Beautiful city." But there had been so much ugliness as well. Discrimination against the Roma people. Against people like Quasimodo.

He watched her for a moment. Then he looked out the window to the stars. The same principles that make him want to keep the weapons from her would keep him from interfering from her rebellion. If her King somehow managed to bring the heartless to her world he'd join her. The opposite was true as well. He didn't know.

"Is a friar like an archdeacon?" That's what Judge Frollo was. But he all he knew about Catholicism was that Frollo was a man of power because of it and he abused it.