Hop-Frog Descriptive Writing

It was a dark and sinister night at Paris. I stroll down the street of Paris, knowing not the horror that lies in front of me. The street is empty and clouds hung oppressively low. At length, I came about an insufferably gloomy castle. I have come to this house to entertain my master, due to the banquet that will occur tonight. Although I am a professional jester, my master often times maltreated me and called me a fool. I believe the name “hop-frog” is what he calls me, because I am dwarf and crippled. Nevertheless, I approach to my master, greeting him and his guests.
I never know anyone that is alive to a joke as the king was. He seemed to live only for joking. To tell a good story of the joke and to tell it well was the surely his favor.

Thus his ministers were noted for their good skills of joking, but certainly it is that a slim joker is a rara avis.
Because of the distortion of my legs, I could only move with but great pain and difficulty.

I was captured by the ministers from my region. I cannot say, with precision, from what country I originally came. It was a barbarous region, which no person ever heard of—a vast distance from the castle. Notwithstanding my deformities, they enslaved me and sent me as presents to the king, by one of his general.
Under these predicaments, there is no surprise that intimacy arose between me and another captive. We became very good friends. Her name was Margery, and on account of her beautifulness, she was greatly admired, although she was a

dwarf.
The night of the fête had arrived. A beautiful room had been filled up, and the whole court was in a passion of expectation. The guests wear their costumes, as many of them had made up their minds—a week or even month ahead, so that there is no aspect of indecisiveness. Time flew, and as the last resort, they sent in Margery and I. The king loved to make his practical jokes, and pleasured in forcing me to drink and, as he calls it, “to be merry.”
“Come, Hop-Frog,” demanded the king, as the jester and his friends enter the room.

“Drink! The wine will brighten your minds.” I endeavored, knowing that I could be drunk easily. “Ha ha ha!” exclaimed the king, as I reluctantly drink from the beaker. “See what a glass of wine can do! I can tell your eyes are shining already!” All the guests and jesters begin laughing, and laughed, but feebly, as well. “Drink, I say, or by the fiends!” I hesitated, and I can see the king filled with rage, while the ministers chuckled and smirked. Margery, pale as corpse, fall to her knee, imploring the king to spare what he is doing at me. At last, the king grew furious, he pushed her to the floor and threw the content of the goblet at her. Poor Margery stands up as best as she could, and there were dead silence for about half a

minute.
After a while I found out that this party was planned to ahead so the king can make fun of Margery and me. I was incensed of what the king did, and finally, the thought of revenge came into my mind. I decide to punish those fiendish people. I announced to the king, “For a masquerade, we should all dress up as monkeys.” “Then, we should chain ourselves together and scare the guests.”
“That is a great idea,” The king exclaimed. “But I should lock the door, so no one escapes because of fear.”
Indeed, we agreed on what we should do, and I chained the seven ministers and the king together. All the guests were terrorized and their shriek was deafening. In the middle of the chaos, I thrust the torch at them, causing their flammable costumes to catch on flame. With all the confusion, Margery and I managed to escape (we had the keys).
Knowing that the king and the ministers that captured me were dead, we disappeared into the night. Margery had helped in my fiery revenge, and together, we effected our escape to our own country, and we were never seen again.