 Chapter 5 and 6 of Book 8 of Les Miserables, Volume 3, by Victor Hugo. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by May Lowe. Les Miserables, Volume 3, by Victor Hugo. Translated by Isabelle Fline's Hapgood. Book 8, The Wicked Poor Man. Chapter 5 A Providential Peephole. Marius had lived for five years in poverty, in destitution, even in distress, but now he perceived that he had not known real misery. True misery he had but just had a view of. It was its spectre which had just passed before his eyes. In fact, he who has only beheld the misery of man has seen nothing. The misery of woman is what he must see. He who has seen only the misery of woman has seen nothing. He must see the misery of the child. When a man has reached his last extremity, he has reached his last resources at the same time. Woe to the defenseless beings who surround him. Work, wages, bread, fire, courage, goodwill, all fail him simultaneously. The light of day seems extinguished without, the moral light within. In these shadows, man encounters the feebleness of the woman and the child and bends them violently to ignominy. Then all horrors become possible. Despair is surrounded with fragile partitions which all open on either vice or crime. Health, youth, honour, all the shy delicacies of the young body, the heart, virginity, modesty, that epidermis of the soul are manipulated incinester-wise by that fumbling which seeks resources, which encounters a probrium and which accommodates itself to it. Fathers, mothers, children, brothers, sisters, men, women, daughters adhere and become incorporated almost like a mineral formation in that dusky promiscuousness of sexes, relationships, ages, infamies and innocences. They crouch back to back in a sort of hut of fate. They exchange woe-begone glances, owe the unfortunate wretches, how pale they are, how cold they are. It seems as though they dwelt in a planet much further from the sun than ours. This young girl was to Marius a sort of messenger from the realm of sad shadows. She revealed to him a hideous side of the night. Marius almost reproached himself for the preoccupations of reverie and passion which had prevented his bestowing a glance on his neighbours up to that day. The payment of their rent had been a mechanical movement which anyone would have yielded to. But he, Marius, should have done better than that. What! Only a wall separated him from these abandoned beings who lived gropingly in the dark outside the pale of the rest of the world. He was elbow to elbow with them. He was, in some sort, the last link of the human race which they touched. He heard them live, or rather, rattle in the death agony beside him, and he paid no heed to them. Every day, every instant, he heard them walking on the other side of the wall. He heard them go and come and speak, and he did not even lend an ear. And groans lay in those words, and he did not even listen to them. His thoughts were elsewhere, given up to dreams, to impossible radiances, to loves in the air, to follies, and all the while human creatures, his brothers in Jesus Christ, his brothers in the people, were agonising in vain beside him. He even formed a part of their misfortune, and he aggravated it, for if they had had another neighbour who was less numerical and more attentive, any ordinary and charitable man, evidently their indigents would have been noticed, their signals of distress would have been perceived, and they would have been taken hold of and rescued. They appeared very corrupt and very depraved, no doubt, very vile, very odious even. But those who fall without becoming degraded are rare. Besides, there is a point where the unfortunate and the infamous unite and are confounded in a single word, a fatal word, the miserable. Whose fault is this? And then should not the charity be all the more profound in proportion as the fall is great? While reading himself this moral lesson, for there were occasions on which Marius, like all truly honest hearts, was his own pedagogue and escoldered himself more than he deserved, he stared at the wall which separated him from the gendrets, as though he were able to make his gaze full of pity penetrate that partition and warm these wretched people. The wall was a thin layer of plaster, upheld by lards and beams, and, as the reader had just learned, it allowed the sound of voices and words to be clearly distinguished. Only a man as dreamy as Marius could have failed to perceive this long before. There was no paper pasted on the wall, either on the side of the gendrets or on that of Marius. The coarse construction was visible in its nakedness. Marius examined the partition, almost unconsciously. Sometimes reverie examines, observes, and scrutinizes as thought would. All at once he sprang up. He had just perceived, near the top, close to the ceiling, a triangular hole which resulted from the space between three lards. The plaster which should have filled this cavity was missing, and, by mounting on the commode, a view could be had through this aperture into the gendret's attic. Commiseration has, and should have, its curiosity. This aperture formed a sort of peephole. It is permissible to gaze at misfortune like a traitor in order to secure it. Let us get some little idea of what these people are like, thought Marius, and in what condition they are. He climbed upon the commode, put his eye to the crevice, and looked. Chapter 6 The Wild Man in His Lair Cities, like forests, have their caverns in which all the most wicked and formidable creatures which they contain conceal themselves. Only in cities, that which thus conceals itself is ferocious, unclean, and petty, that is to say ugly. In forests, that which conceals itself is ferocious, savage, and grand, that is to say beautiful. Taking one lair with another, the beasts is preferable to the man's. Caverns are better than hovels. What Marius now beheld was a hovel. Marius was poor, and his chamber was poverty-stricken. But as his poverty was noble, his garret was neat. The den upon which his eye now rested was abject, dirty, fettered, pestiferous, mean, sordid. The only furniture consisted of a straw chair, an infirm table, some old bits of crockery, and in two of the corners, two indescribable pallets. All the light was furnished by a dormal window of four panes, draped with spider's webs. Through this aperture, they penetrated just enough light to make the face of a man appear like the face of a phantom. The walls had a leperous aspect, and were covered with seams and scars, like a visage disfigured by some horrible malady, a repulsive moisture exuded from them. Of seen sketches roughly sketched with charcoal could be distinguished upon them. The chamber which Marius occupied had a dilapidated brick pavement. This one was neither tiled nor planked. Its inhabitants stepped directly on the antique plaster of the hovel, which had grown black under the long-continued pressure of feet. Upon this uneven floor, where the dirt seemed to be fairly encrusted, and which possessed but one virginity that of the broom, were capriciously grouped constellations of old shoes, socks, and repulsive rags. However, this room had a fireplace, so it was let for forty francs a year. Every sort of thing in that fireplace—abrasia, a pot, broken boards, rags suspended from nails, a birdcage, ashes, and even a little fire— two brands were smouldering there in a melancholy way. One thing which added still more to the horrors of this garret was that it was large. It had projections and angles and black holes, the lower sides of roofs, bays, and promontories. Hence horrible, unfathomable nooks, where it seemed as though spiders as big as one's fist, woodlice as large as one's foot, and perhaps even, who knows, some monstrous human beings must be hiding. One of the pallets was near the door, the other near the window. One end of each touched the fireplace and faced Marius. In a corner near the aperture through which Marius was gazing, the coloured engraving in a black frame was suspended to a nail on the wall, and at its bottom, in large letters, was an inscription, The Dream. This represented a sleeping woman and a child also asleep, the child on the woman's lap, an eagle in a cloud, with a crown in his beak, and the woman thrusting the crown away from the child's head without making the latter. In the background, Napoleon in a glory, leaning on a very blue column with a yellow capital ornamented with this inscription, Maringo, Osterlitz, Ayana, Wogam, Hela. Beneath this frame, a sort of wooden panel, which was no longer than it was broad, stood on the ground and rested in a sloping attitude against the wall. It had the appearance of a picture with its face turned to the wall, of a frame probably showing a daub on the other side of some pier glass detached from a wall and lying forgotten there while waiting to be rehung. Near the table, upon which Marius described a pen, ink and paper, sat a man about sixty years of age, small, thin, livid, haggard, with a cunning, cruel and uneasy air, a hideous scoundrel. If Lavater had studied this visage, he would have found the vulture mingled with the attorney there, the bird of prey and the pettifogger, rendering each other mutually hideous and complimenting each other, the pettifogger making the bird of prey ennoble, the bird of prey making the pettifogger horrible. This man had a long grey beard. He was clad in a woman's chemise, which allowed his hairy breast and his bare arms bristling with grey hair to be seen. Beneath this chemise muddy trousers and boots through which his toes projected were visible. He had a pipe in his mouth and was smoking. There was no bread in the hovel, but there was still tobacco. He was writing probably some more letters like those which Marius had read. On the corner of the table lay an ancient, dilapidated, reddish volume and the size, which was the antique twelve-mo of reading rooms, the trade of romance. On the cover sprawled the following title, printed in large capitals, God, the King, Honour and the Ladies, by Ducré Duminelle, 1814. As the man wrote, he talked aloud, and Marius heard his words. The idea that there is no equality even when you are dead, just look at Perlesche. The great, those who are rich, are up above. In the Acacia Alley, which is paved, they can reach it in a carriage. The little people, the poor, the unhappy, well, what of them? They are put down below, where the mud is up to your knees in the damp places. They are put there so that they will decay the sooner. You cannot go to see them without sinking into the earth. He paused, smote the table with his fist and added, as he ground his teeth, oh, I could eat the whole world. A big woman, who might be forty years of age, or a hundred, was crouching near the fireplace on her bare heels. She, too, was clad only in a chemise and a knitted petticoat patched with bits of old cloth. A coarse linen apron concealed the half of her petticoat. Although this woman was doubled up and bent together, it could be seen that she was a very lofty stature. She was a sort of giant beside her husband. She had hideous hair of a reddish blonde which was turning grey and which she thrust back from time to time with her enormous shining hands with their flat nails. Beside her, on the floor, wide open lay a book of the same form as the other and probably a volume of the same romance. On one of the pallets, Marius caught a glimpse of a sort of tall, pale young girl who sat there half-naked and with pendant feet and who did not seem to be listening or seeing or living. No doubt the younger sister of the one who had come to his room. She seemed to be eleven or twelve years of age. On closer scrutiny it was evident that she was really fourteen. She was the child who had said, on the boulevard the evening before, I bolted, bolted, bolted. She was off that puny sort which remains backwards for a long time, then suddenly starts up rapidly. It is indigence which produces these melancholy human plans. These creatures have neither childhood nor youth. At fifteen years of age they appear to be twelve. At sixteen they seem twenty. Today a little girl, tomorrow a woman. One might say that they stride through life in order to get through with it the more speedily. At this moment this being had the air of a child. Moreover no trace of work was revealed in that dwelling. No handicraft, no spinning wheel, not at all. In one corner lay some iron mongery of dubious aspect. It was the dull listlessness which follows despair and precedes the death agony. Marius gazed for a while at this gloomy interior more terrifying than the interior of a tomb for the human soul could be felt fluttering there and life was palpitating there. The garret, the cellar, the lowly ditch where certain indigent wretches crawl at the very bottom of the social edifice is not exactly the sepulcher, but only its anti-chamber. But as the wealthy display their greatest magnificence at the entrance of their palaces it seems that death, which stands directly side by side with them places its greatest miseries in that vestibule. The man held his peace, the woman spoke no word, the young girl did not even seem to breathe. The scratching of the pen on the paper was audible. The man grumbled without pausing in his writing. Cannae, cannae, everybody is cannae. This variation to Solomon's exclamation elicited a sigh from the woman. Calm yourself, my little friend, she said. Don't hurt yourself, my dear. You are too good to write to all those people, husband. Bodies press close to each other in misery, as in cold, but hearts draw apart. This woman must have loved this man to all appearance, judging from the amount of love within her. But probably in the daily and reciprocal reproaches of the horrible distress which weighed on the whole group, this had become extinct. There no longer existed in her anything more than the ashes of affection for her husband. Nevertheless caressing appellations had survived, as is often the case. She called him, my dear, my little friend, my good man, etc., with her mouth, while her heart was silent. The man resumed his writing. End of book 8, chapters 5 and 6. Chapter 7 Strategy and Tactics Marius, with a load upon his breast, was on the point of descending from the species of observatory which he had improvised, when a sound attracted his attention and caused him to remain at his post. The door of the attic had just burst open abruptly. The eldest girl made her appearance on the threshold. On her feet she had large coarse men's shoes, bespattered with mud which had splashed even to her red ankles, and she was wrapped in an old mantle which hung in tatters. Marius had not seen it on her an hour previously, but she had probably deposited it at his door in order that she might inspire the more pity and had picked it up again on emerging. She entered, pushed the door to behind her, paused to take breath, for she was completely breathless, then exclaimed with an expression of triumph and joy, He is coming! The father turned his eyes towards her. The woman turned her head. The little sister did not stir. Who demanded her father? The gentleman. The philanthropist? Yes. From the Church of Saint-Jacques? Yes. That old fellow? Yes. And he is coming? He is following me. You are sure? I am sure. There, truly, he is coming. He is coming in a fiacra. In a fiacra? He is a Rothschild. The father rose. How are you sure? If he is coming in a fiacra, how is it that you arrived before him? You gave him our address at least. Did you tell him that it was the last door at the end of the corridor on the right? If he only does not make a mistake. So you found him at the Church? Did he read my letter? What did he say to you? Ta-ta-ta! said the girl. How you do gallop on, my good man! See here, I entered the Church. He was in his usual place. I made him a reverence and I handed him the letter. He read it and said to me, Where do you live, my child? I said, Monsieur, I will show you. He said to me, No, give me your address. My daughter has some purchases to make. I will take a carriage and beat your house at the same time that you do. I gave him the address. When I mentioned the house, he seemed surprised and hesitated for an instant. Then he said, Never mind, I will come. When the Mass was finished, I watched him leave the Church with his daughter and I saw them enter a carriage. I certainly did tell him the last door in the corridor on the right. And what makes you think that he will come? I have just seen the Fiacra turn into the Rue Petit-Banquier. That is what made me run so. How do you know it was the same Fiacra? Because I took notice of the number so there. What was the number? 440. Good! You are a clever girl. The girl stared boldly at her father and showing the shoes which she had on her feet. A clever girl possibly, but I tell you I won't put these shoes on again and that I won't, for the sake of my health in the first place and for the sake of cleanliness in the next. I don't know anything more irritating than shoes that squelch and go ki-ki-ki the whole time. I prefer to go barefoot. You are right, said her father, in a sweet tone which contrasted with the young girl's rudeness, but then you will not be allowed to enter churches for poor people must have shoes to do that. One cannot go barefoot to the good God, he added bitterly. Then returning to the subject which absorbed him, so you are sure that he will come. He is following on my heels, said she. The man started up. A sort of illumination appeared on his countenance. Wife, he exclaimed, you hear, here is the philanthropist, extinguish the fire. The stupefied mother did not stir. The father, with the agility of an acrobat, seized a broken-nosed jug which stood on the chimney and flung the water on the brands. Then addressing his eldest daughter, here you, pull the straw off that chair. His daughter did not understand. He seized the chair and with one kick he rendered it seatless. His leg passed through it. As he withdrew his leg, he asked his daughter, is it cold? Very cold, it is snowing. The father turned towards the younger girl who sat on the bed near the window and shouted to her in a thundering voice, quick, get off that bed you lazy thing, will you never do anything, break a pane of glass. The little girl jumped off the bed with a shiver. Break a pane, he repeated. The child stood still in bewilderment. Do you hear me, repeated her father, I tell you to break a pane. The child, with a sort of terrified obedience, rose on tiptoe and struck a pane with her fist. The glass broke and fell with a loud clatter. Good, said the father. He was grave and abrupt. His glance swept rapidly over all the crannies of the garret. Kingwood had said that he was a general making the final preparation at the moment when the battle is on the point of beginning. The mother, who had not said a word so far, now rose and demanded in a dull, slow, languid voice, whence her words seemed to emerge in a congealed state. What do you mean to do, my dear? Get into bed, replied the man. His intonation admitted of no deliberation. The mother obeyed and threw herself heavily on one of the pallets. In the meantime a sob became audible in one corner. What's that? cried the father. The younger daughter exhibited her bleeding fist without quitting the corner in which she was cowering. She had wounded herself while breaking the window. She went off near her mother's pallet and wept silently. It was now the mother's turn to start up and exclaim, Just see there what follies you commit she has cut herself breaking that pane for you. So much the better, said the man, I foresaw that. What? so much the better, retorted his wife. Peace, replied the father, I suppress the liberty of the press. Then, tearing the woman's chemise which he was wearing, he made a strip of cloth with which he hastily swathed the little girl's bleeding wrist. That done his eye fell with a satisfied expression on his torn chemise. And the chemise too, said he, this has a good appearance. An icy breeze whistled through the window and entered the room. The outer mist penetrated thither and diffused itself like a whitish sheet of wadding vaguely spread by invisible fingers. Through the broken pane the snow could be seen falling. The snow promised by the candleless sun of the preceding day had actually come. The father cast a glance about him as though to make sure that he had forgotten nothing, he seized an old shovel and spread ashes over the wet brands in such a manner as to entirely conceal them. Then drawing himself up and leaning against the chimney-piece, now, said he, we can receive the philanthropist. Chapter 8 The Ray of Light in the Huffle The big girl approached and laid her hand in her father's. Feel how cold I am, said she. Bah! replied the father, I am much colder than that. The mother exclaimed impetuously, you always have something better than anyone else so you do even bad things. Down with you, said the man. The mother, being eyed after a certain fashion, held her tongue. Silence reigned for a moment in the Huffle. The elder girl was removing the mud from the bottom of her mantle with a careless air. Her younger sister continued to sob. The mother had taken the latter's head between her hands and was covering it with kisses, whispering to her the while, my treasure, I entreat you, it is nothing of consequence, don't cry, you will anger your father. No, exclaimed the father, quite the contrary. Sob! Sob! That's right. Then turning to the elder. There now, he's not coming, but if he were not to come, I shall have extinguished my fire, wrecked my chair, torn my shirt, and broken my pain all for nothing. And wounded the child, murmured the mother. Do you know, when on the father, that it's beastly cold in this devil's garret, what if that man should not come? Ah, see there, you! He makes us wait. He says to himself, well, they will wait for me. That's what they're there for. Oh, how I hate them! And with what joy, jubilation, enthusiasm, and satisfaction I could strangle all those rich folks, all those rich folks. These men who pretend to be charitable, who put on airs, who go to mass, who make presents to the priesthood, preachy-preachy in their skull-caps, and who think themselves above us, and who come for the purpose of humiliating us, and who bring us clothes, as they say, old duds that are not worth for a soot, and bread. That's not what I want, pack of rascals that they are. It's money, ah, money. Never, because they say that we would go off and drink it up, and that we are drunkards and idlers. And they? What are they then? And what have they been in their time? Thieves. They never could have become rich otherwise. Oh, society ought to be grasped by the four corners of the cloth and tossed into the air, all of it. It would all be smashed very likely, but at least no one would have anything, and there would be that much gained. But what is that blockhead of a benevolent gentleman doing? Will he come? Perhaps the animal has forgotten the address. I bet that that old beast— At that moment there came a light tap at the door. The man rushed to it and opened it, exclaiming amid profound bows and smiles of adoration, enter, sir, Dane, to enter most respected benefactor, and your charming young lady also. A man of ripe age and a young girl made their appearance on the threshold of the attic. Marius had not quitted his post. His feelings for the moment surpassed the powers of the human tongue. It was she. Whoever has loved knows all the radiant meanings contained in those three letters of that word. She. It was certainly she. Marius could hardly distinguish her through the luminous vapor which had suddenly spread before his eyes. It was that sweet, absent being, that star which had beamed upon him for six months. It was those eyes, that brow, that mouth, that lovely vanished face which had created night by its departure. The vision had been eclipsed. Now it reappeared. It reappeared in that gloom, in that garret, in that misshapen attic, in all that horror. Marius shuddered in dismay. What! it was she. The palpitations of his heart troubled his sight. He felt that he was on the brink of bursting into tears. What! he beheld her again at last, after having sought her for so long. It seemed to him that he had lost his soul and that he had just found it again. She was the same as ever, only a little pale. Her delicate face was framed in a bonnet of violet velvet. Her figure was concealed beneath a police of black satin. Beneath her long dress a glimpse could be caught of her tiny foot shod in a silken boot. She was still accompanied by Monsieur Leblanc. She had taken a few steps into the room and had deposited a tolerably bulky parcel on the table. The eldest gendret girl had retired behind the door and was staring, with somber eyes, at that velvet bonnet, that silk mantle, and that charming happy face. Chapter 9 Gendret comes near Weeping The hovel was so dark that people coming from without felt on entering it the effect produced on entering a cellar. The two newcomers advanced, therefore, with a certain hesitation, being hardly able to distinguish the vague forms surrounding them, while they could be clearly seen and scrutinized by the eyes of the inhabitants of the garret, who were accustomed to this twilight. Monsieur Leblanc approached with his sad but kindly look and said to Gendret the father, Monsieur, in this package you will find some new clothes and some woolen stockings and blankets. Our angelic benefactor overwhelms us, said Gendret, bowing to the very earth. Then, bending down to the ear of his eldest daughter while the two visitors were engaged in examining this lamentable interior, he added, in a low and rapid voice, hey, what did I say? duds, no money, they're all alike. By the way, how was the letter to that old bloke had signed? Fabantu replied the girl, the dramatic artist good. It was lucky for Gendret that this had occurred to him, for at the very moment Monsieur Leblanc turned to him and said to him, with the air of a person who is seeking to recall a name, I see that you are greatly to be pitied, Monsieur... Fabantu replied Gendret quickly. Monsieur Fabantu, yes, that is it, I remember. Dramatic artist, sir, and one who has had some success. Here Gendret evidently judged the moment propitious for capturing the philanthropist. He exclaimed with an accent which smacked at the same time of the vain glory of the Montabanc at fairs and the humility of the mendicant on the highway. A pupil of Talma, sir, I am a pupil of Talma, fortune formerly smiled on me, alas, now it is misfortune's turn. You see, my benefactor, no bread, no fire, my poor babes have no fire, my only chair has no seat, a broken pane, and in such weather, my spouse in bed, ill... Poor woman, said Monsieur Leblanc. My child wounded, added Gendret. The child diverted by the arrival of the strangers had fallen to contemplating the young lady and had ceased to sob. Cry, ball, said Gendret to her in a low voice. At the same time he pinched her sore hand, all this was done with the talent of a juggler, the little girl gave vent to loud shrieks. The adorable young girl, whom Marius in his heart called his Ursul, approached her hastily. Poor dear child, said she. You see, my beautiful young lady pursued Gendret, her bleeding wrist. It came through an accident while working at a machine to earn six sous a day. It may be necessary to cut off her arm. Really, said the old gentleman, in alarm. The little girl taking this seriously fell to sobbing more violently than ever. Alas, yes, my benefactor, replied the father. For several minutes Gendret had been scrutinizing the benefactor in a singular fashion, as he spoke he seemed to be examining the other attentively as though seeking to summon up his recollections. All at once, profiting by a moment when the newcomers were questioning the child with interest as to her injured hand, he passed near his wife, who lay in her bed with the stupid and dejected air, and said to her in a rapid but very low tone, take a look at that man. Then turning to Monsieur Leblanc and continuing his lamentations, you see, sir, all the clothing that I have is my wife's chemise and all torn at that. In the depths of winter I can't go out for lack of a coat. If I had a coat of any sort I would go and see Mademoiselle Marre, who knows me and is very fond of me. Does she not still reside in the Rue de la Tour des Dames? Do you know, sir? We played together in the provinces. I shared her laurels. Then would come to my soccer, sir. Elmure would bestow alms on bellicère. But no, nothing, and not a sue in the house. My wife ill and not a sue. My daughter dangerously injured, not a sue. My wife suffers from fits of suffocation. It comes from her age. Besides her nervous system is affected. She ought to have assistance and my daughter also. But the doctor, but the apothecary, how am I to pay them? I would kneel to a penny, sir, such as the condition to which the arts are reduced. And do you know, my charming young lady, and you, my generous protector, do you know, you who breathe forth virtue and goodness, and who perfume that church where my daughter sees you every day when she says her prayers? For I have brought up my children religiously, sir. I did not want them to take to the theatre. Ah, the hussies, if I catch them tripping. I do not jest that I don't. I read them lessons on honour, on morality, on virtue. Ask them. They have got to walk straight. They are none of your unhappy wretches who begin by having no family and end by espousing the public. One is Mamzell nobody, and one becomes Madame everybody. Doos take it. None of that in the Fabantu family, and I mean to bring them up virtuously. And they shall be honest and nice and believe in God by the sacred name. Well, sir, my worthy sir, do you know what is going to happen tomorrow? Tomorrow is the fourth day of February, the fatal day, the last day of grace allowed me by my landlord. If by this evening I have not paid my rent, tomorrow my oldest daughter, my spouse with her fever, my child with her wound, we shall all four be turned out of here and thrown into the street on the boulevard without shelter, in the rain, in the snow. There, sir, I owe for four quarters a whole year. That is to say, sixty francs. Jaundret lied. Four quarters would have amounted to only forty francs, and he could not owe four because six months had not elapsed since Marius had paid for two. Monsieur Leblanc drew five francs from his pocket and threw them on the table. Jaundret found time to mutter in the ear of his eldest daughter, the scoundrel. What does he think I can do with his five francs? That won't pay me for my chair and pane of glass. That's what comes of incurring expenses. In the meanwhile, Monsieur Leblanc had removed the large brown greatcoat which he wore over his bluecoat and had thrown it over the back of the chair. Monsieur Febon too, he said, these five francs are all that I have about me, but I shall now take my daughter home and I will return this evening. It is this evening that you must pay, is it not? Jaundret's face lighted up with a strange expression. He replied vivaciously, yes, respected sir, at eight o'clock I must be at my landlords. I will be here at six and I will fetch you the sixty francs. My benefactor, exclaimed Jaundret, overwhelmed, and he added in a low voice, take a good look at him, wife. Monsieur Leblanc had taken the arm of the young girl once more and had turned towards the door. Farewell until this evening, my friends, said he. Six o'clock, said Jaundret, six o'clock precisely. At that moment the overcoat lying on the chair caught the eye of the elder Jaundret girl. You are forgetting your coat, sir, said she. Jaundret darted an annihilating look at his daughter, accompanied by a formidable shrug of the shoulders. Monsieur Leblanc turned back and said with a smile, I have not forgotten it. I am leaving it. Oh, my protector, said Jaundret, my august benefactor I melt into tears. Permit me to accompany you to your carriage. If you come out, answered Monsieur Leblanc, put on this coat. It really is very cold. Jaundret did not need to be told twice. He hastily donned the brown great coat and all three went out, Jaundret preceding the two strangers. Volume 3 by Victor Hugo Translated by Isabel Florence Hapgood Book 8 The Wicked Poor Man Chapter 10 Tariff of Licensed Cabs Two Franks an Hour Marius had lost nothing of this scene, and yet in reality he had seen nothing. His eyes had remained fixed on the young girl. His heart had, so to speak, seized her and wholly enveloped her from the moment of her very first step in that garret. During her entire stay there he had lived that life of ecstasy which suspends material perceptions and precipitates the whole soul on a single point. He had contemplated, not that girl, but that light which wore a saddened police and a velvet bonnet. The star Sirius might have entered the room and he would not have been any more dazzled. While the young girl was engaged in opening the package, unfolding the clothing and the blankets, questioning the sick mother kindly and the little injured girl tenderly, he watched her every movement he sought to catch her words. He knew her eyes, her brow, her beauty, her form, her walk. He did not know the sound of her voice. He once fancied that he had caught a few words at the Luxembourg, but he was not absolutely sure of the fact. He would have given ten years of his life to hear it, in order that he might bear away in his soul a little of that music. But everything was drowned in the lamentable exclamations and trumpet bursts of gendret. This added a touch of genuine wrath to Marius's ecstasy. He devoured her with his eyes. He could not believe that it really was that divine creature whom he saw in the midst of those vile creatures in that monstrous lair. It seemed to him that he beheld a hummingbird in the midst of toads. When she took her departure he had but one thought to follow her, to cling to her trace, not to quit her until he learned where she lived, not to lose her again at least after having so miraculously rediscovered her. He leapt down from the commode and seized his hat. As he laid his hand on the lock of the door and was on the point of opening it a sudden reflection caused him to pause. The corridor was long, the staircase steep, chandret was talkative, Monsieur Leblanc had no doubt not yet regained his carriage. If on turning round in the corridor on the staircase he were to catch sight of him, Marius, in that house he would evidently take the alarm and find means to escape from him again. And this time it would be final. What was he to do? Should he wait a little? But while he was waiting the carriage might drive off. Marius was perplexed. At last he accepted the risk and quitted his room. There was no one in the corridor. He hastened to the stairs. There was no one on the staircase. He descended in all haste and reached the boulevard in time to see a fiacque turning the corner of the rue de Petit-Banquier on his way back to Paris. Marius rushed headlong in that direction. On arriving at the angle of the boulevard he caught sight of the fiacque again rapidly descending the rue Mufattar. The carriage was already a long way off. And there was no means of overtaking it. What? Run after it? Impossible. And besides, the people in the carriage would assuredly notice an individual running at full speed in pursuit of a fiacque and the father would recognize him. At that moment wonderful and unprecedented good luck Marius perceived an empty cab passing along the boulevard. There was but one thing to be done to jump into this cab and follow the fiacque. That was sure, efficacious and free from danger. Marius made the driver assigned to halt and called to him. By the hour Marius wore no cravat. He had on his working coat which was destitute of buttons and his shirt was torn along one of the plates on the bosom. The driver halted winked and held out his left hand to Marius rubbing his forefinger gently with his thumb. What is it? said Marius. Pay in advance. said the coachman. Marius recollected that he had but sixteen sews about him. How much? he demanded. Forty sews. I will pay on my return. The driver's only reply was to whistle the air of La Palisse and to whip up his horse. Marius stared at the retreating cabriolet with a bewildered air. For the lack of four and twenty sews he was losing his joy, his happiness, his love. He had seen and he was becoming blind again. He reflected bitterly and it must be confessed with profound regret on the five francs which he had bestowed that very morning on that miserable girl. If he had had those five francs he would have been saved. He would have been born again. He would have emerged from the limbo in darkness. He would have made his escape from isolation and spleen from his widowed state. He might have re-knotted the black thread of his destiny with a beautiful golden thread which had just floated before his eyes and had broken at the same instant once more. He returned to his hovel in despair. He might have told himself that Monsieur Leblanc had promised to return in the evening and that all he had to do was to set about the matter more skillfully so that he might follow him on that occasion. But in his contemplation it is doubtful whether he had heard this. As he was on the point of mounting the staircase he perceived on the other side of the boulevard near the deserted wall skirting the rude la barriée de Goblin chandret wrapped in the philanthropist's great coat engaged in conversation with one of those men of disquieting aspect who have been dubbed by common consent prowlers of the barriers. People of equivocal face of suspicious monologues who present the air of having evil minds and who generally sleep in the daytime which suggests the supposition that they work by night. These two men standing there motionless and in conversation in the snow which was falling in whirlwinds formed a group that a policeman would surely have observed but which Marius hardly noticed. Still in spite of his mournful preoccupation he could not refrain from saying to himself that this prowler of the barriers with whom chandret was talking resembled a certain Poncho, Elias Prantanier, Elias Bikrenay whom Corferac had once pointed out to him as a very dangerous nocturnal roamer. This man's name the reader has learned in the preceding book. This Poncho, Elias Prantanier, Elias Bikrenay figured later on in many criminal trials that he became a notorious rascal. He was at that time only a famous rascal. Today he exists in the state of tradition among ruffians and assassins. He was at the head of a school towards the end of the last rain. And in the evening at nightfall at the hour when groups form and talk in whispers he was discussed at La Force When might even in that prison precisely at the spot where the sewer which served the unprecedented escape in broad daylight of thirty prisoners in 1843 passes under the culvert read his name Poncho audaciously carved by his own hand on the wall of the sewer during one of his attempts at flight. In 1832 the police already had their eye on him but he had not as yet made a serious beginning. Chapter 11 Offers of service from misery to wretchedness Marius ascended the stairs of the hovel with slow steps. At the moment when he was about to re-enter his cell he caught sight of the elder Chantret girl following him through the corridor. The very sight of this girl was odious to him. It was she who had his five francs it was too late to demand them back the cab was no longer there the fiacret was far away moreover she would not have given them back. As for questioning her about the residence of the persons who had just been there that was useless. It was evident that she did not know since the letter signed Fabanto had been addressed to the benevolent gentleman of the church of Sanchok du Opa. Marius entered his room and pushed the door to after him. It did not close. He turned round and beheld a hand which held the door half open. What is it he asked who was there? It was the Chantret girl. Is it you resumed Marius almost harshly still you what do you want with me she appeared to be thoughtful and did not look at him she no longer had the air of assurance which had characterised her that morning she did not enter but held back in the darkness of the corridor where Marius could see her through the half open door come now will you answer cried Marius what do you want with me she raised her dull eyes in which a sort of gleam seemed to flicker vaguely and said Mr. Marius you look sad what is the matter with you with me said Marius yes you there is nothing to matter with me yes there is no I tell you there is let me alone Marius gave the door another push but she retained her hold on it stop said she you are in the wrong although you are not rich you were kind this morning be so again now you gave me something to eat now tell me what ails you you are grieved that is plain I do not want you to be grieved what can be done for it can I be of any service employ me I do not ask for your secrets you need not tell them to me but I may be of use nevertheless I may be able to help you since I helped my father when it is necessary to carry letters to the fire from door to door to find out an address to follow anyone I am of service well you may assuredly tell me what is the matter with you and I will go and speak to the persons sometimes it is enough if someone speaks to the persons that suffices to let them understand matters and everything comes right make use of me an idea flashed across Marius's mind what branch does one disdain when one feels that one is falling he drew near to the Chantret girl listen he said to her she interrupted him with a gleam of joy in her eyes oh yes do call me thou I like that better well he resumed thou hast brought hither that old gentleman and his daughter yes does thou know their address no find it for me the Chantret's dull eyes had grown joyous and they now became gloomy is that what you want she demanded yes do you know them no that is to say she resumed quickly you do not know her but you wish to know her this them which had turned into her had something indescribably significant and bitter about it well can you do it said Marius you shall have the beautiful ladies address there was still a shade in the words the beautiful lady which troubled Marius he resumed never mind after all the address of the father and daughter their address indeed she gazed fixedly at him what will you give me anything you like anything I like yes you shall have the address she dropped her head then with a brusque movement she pulled to the door which closed behind her Marius found himself alone he dropped into a chair with his head and both elbows on his bed absorbed in thoughts which he could not grasp and as though a prey to vertigo all that had taken place since the morning the appearance of the angel her disappearance what that creature had just said to him a gleam of hope floating in an immense despair this was what filled his brain confusedly all at once he was violently aroused from his reverie he heard the shrill hard voice of Chantret utter these words which were fraught with a strange interest for him I tell you I am sure of it and that I recognized him of whom was Chantret speaking whom had he recognized Mr. Leblanc the father of his Ursule what did Chantret know him was Marius about to obtain in this abrupt and unexpected fashion all the information without which his life was so dark to him was he about to learn at last who it was that he loved who that young girl was who her father was was the dense shadow which unwrapped them on the point of being dispelled was the veil about to be rent ah heavens he bounded rather than climbed upon his commode and resumed his post near the little peephole in the partition wall again he beheld the interior of Chantret's hovel end of book 8 CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII of book 8 of Les Miserables volume 3 by Victor Hugo this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Bruce Peary Les Miserables volume 3 by Victor Hugo translated by Isabelle Florence Hapgood book 8 CHAPTER XII chapter XII the use made of Monsieur Leblanc's 5 franc piece nothing in the aspect of the family was altered except that the wife and daughters had levied on the package and put on woolen stockings and jackets two new blankets were thrown across the two beds Chantret had evidently just returned he still had the breathlessness of out of doors his daughters were seated on the floor near the fireplace the elder engaged in dressing the younger's wounded hand his wife had sunk back on the bed near the fireplace with the face indicative of astonishment Chantret was pacing up and down the garret with long strides his eyes were extraordinary the woman who seemed timid and overwhelmed with stupor in the presence of her husband turned to say really, you are sure? sure, eight years have passed but I recognize him ah, I recognize him I knew him at once what, didn't it force itself on you? no but I told you, pay attention why it is his figure, it is his face only older there are people who do not grow old I don't know how they manage it it is the very sound of his voice he is better dressed, that's all ah, you mysterious old devil got you that I have he paused and said to his daughters get out of here, you it's queer that it didn't strike you they arose to obey the mother stammered with her injured hand the air will do it good, said Chantret be off it was plain that this man was of the sort to whom no one offers to reply the two girls departed at the moment when they were about to pass through the door, the father detained the elder by the arm and said to her with a peculiar accent you will be here at five o'clock precisely both of you I shall need you Marius redoubled his attention on being left alone with his wife, Chantret began to pace the room again and made the tour of it two or three times in silence then he spent several minutes in tucking the lower part of the woman's chemise into his trousers all at once he turned to the female Chantret folded his arms and exclaimed and would you like to have me tell you something? the young lady well what retorted his wife the young lady Marius could not doubt that it was really she of whom they were speaking he listened with ardent anxiety his whole life was in his ears but Chantret had bent over and spoke to his wife in a whisper then he straightened himself up and concluded aloud it is she that one said his wife that very one said the husband no expression can reproduce the significance of the mother's words surprise rage hate wrath were mingled and combined in one monstrous intonation the pronunciation of a few words the name no doubt which her husband had whispered in her ear had sufficed to rouse this huge somnolent woman and from being repulsive she became terrible it is not possible she cried when I think that my daughters are going barefoot and have not a gown to their backs what a satin police a velvet bonnet boots and everything more than two hundred francs worth of clothes so that one would think she was a lady no, you are mistaken why, in the first place the other was hideous and this one is not so bad looking she really is not bad looking it can't be she I tell you that it is she you will see at this absolute assertion the Chantret woman raised her large red blonde face and stared at the ceiling with a horrible expression at that moment she seemed to marry us even more to be feared than her husband she was a sow with the look of a tigress what she resumed that horrible beautiful young lady who gazed at my daughters with an air of pity she is that bigger brat oh I should like to kick her stomach in for her she sprang off of the bed and remained standing for a moment her hair in disorder her nostrils dilating, her mouth half open clenched and drawn back then she fell back on the bed once more the man paced to and fro and paid no attention to his female after a silence lasting several minutes he approached the female Chantret and halted in front of her with folded arms as he had done a moment before and shall I tell you another thing what is it she asked he answered in a low curt voice my fortune is made the woman stared at him with the look that signifies is the person who is addressing me on the point of going mad he went on thunder it was not so very long ago that I was a parishioner of the parish of die of hunger if you have a fire die of coal if you have bread I have had enough of misery my share and other people's share I am not joking any longer I don't find it comic any more to God no more farce's eternal father I want to eat till I am full I want to drink my fill to gormand eyes to sleep to do nothing I want to have my turn so I do come now before I die I want to be a bit of a millionaire he took a turn round the hovel and added like other people what do you mean by that asked the woman he shook his head winked screwed up one eye and raised his voice like a medical professor who is about to make a demonstration what do I mean by that listen hush muttered the woman not so loud these are matters which must not be overheard ah who's here our neighbor I saw him go out a little while ago besides he doesn't listen the big booby and I tell you that I saw him go out nevertheless by a sort of instinct genre at lowered his voice although not sufficiently to prevent Marius hearing his words one favorable circumstance which enabled Marius not to lose a word of this conversation was the falling snow which deadened the sound of vehicles on the boulevard this is what Marius heard listen carefully the creases is caught or as good as caught that's all settled already everything is arranged I have seen some people who will come here this evening at six o'clock to bring 60 francs the rascal did you notice how I played that game on him my 60 francs my landlord my fourth of February I don't even owe for one quarter isn't he a fool so he will come at six o'clock that's the hour when our neighbor goes to his dinner mother Bougon is off washing dishes in the city there's not a soul in the house he comes home until eleven o'clock the children shall stand on watch you shall help us he will give in and what if he does not give in demanded his wife Gendret made a sinister gesture and said we'll fix him and he burst out laughing this was the first time Marius had seen him laugh the laugh was cold and sweet and provoked a shudder Gendret opened a cupboard near the fireplace and drew from it an old cap which he placed on his head after brushing it with his sleeve now said he I'm going out I have some more people that I must see good ones you'll see how well the whole thing will work I shall be away as short a time as possible it's a fine stroke of business do you look after the house and with both fists thrust into the pockets of his trousers he stood for a moment in thought then exclaimed do you know it's mighty lucky by the way that he didn't recognize me if he had recognized me on his side he would not have come back again he would have slipped through our fingers it was my beard that saved us my romantic beard my pretty little romantic beard and again he broke into a laugh he stepped to the window the snow was still falling still streaking the gray of the sky what beastly weather said he then lapping his overcoat across his breast this rind is too large for me never mind he added he did a devilish good thing in leaving it for me the old scoundrel if it hadn't been for that I couldn't have gone out and everything would have gone wrong what small points things hang on anyway and pulling his cap down over his eyes he quitted the room he had barely had time to take half a dozen steps from the door when the door opened again and his savage but intelligent face made its appearance once more in the opening I came near forgetting said he you are to have a brazier of charcoal ready and he flung into his wife's apron the five frank piece which the philanthropist had left with him a brazier of charcoal asked his wife yes how many bushels two good ones with the rest I will buy something for dinner the devil no why don't go and spend the hundred soupies because I shall have to buy something too what something how much shall you need whereabouts in the neighbourhood is there an ironmonger's shop room of tar ah yes at the corner of the street I can see the shop but tell me how much you will need for what you have to purchase fifty sous, three francs there won't be much left for dinner eating is not the point today there's something better to be done that's enough my jewel at this word from his wife Jean-Drette closed the door again and this time Marius heard his step die away in the corridor of the hovel and descend the staircase rapidly at that moment one o'clock struck from the church of Saint Médard End of Book 8 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Book 8 of Les Miserables Volume 3 by Victor Hugo This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Bruce Peary Les Miserables Volume 3 by Victor Hugo Translated by Isabel Florence Hapgood Book 8 The Wicked Poor Man Chapter 13 Solis cum solo in loco remoto non cogio buntur orare paternoster Marius dreamer as he was was as we have said firm and energetic by nature his habits of solitary meditation while they had developed in him sympathy and compassion had perhaps diminished the faculty for irritation but had left intact the power of waxing indignant he had the kindness of a Brahman and the severity of a judge he took pity upon a toad but he crushed a viper now it was into a hole of vipers that his glance had just been directed it was a nest of monsters that he had beneath his eyes these wretches must be stamped upon said he not one of the enigmas which he had hoped to see solved had been elucidated on the contrary all of them had been rendered more dense he knew nothing more about the beautiful maiden of the Luxembourg and the man whom he called Monsieur Leblanc except that Jean Dret was acquainted with them a thwart the mysterious words which had been uttered was the fact that an ambush was in course of preparation a dark but terrible trap that both of them were incurring great danger she probably her father certainly that they must be saved that the hideous plots of the Jean Dret's must be thwarted and the web of these spiders broken he scanned the female Jean Dret for a moment she had pulled an old sheet-iron from a corner and she was rummaging among the old heap of iron he descended from the commode as softly as possible taking care not to make the least noise amid his terror as to what was in preparation and in the horror with which the Jean Dret's had inspired him he experienced a sort of joy at the idea that it might be granted to him perhaps to render a service to the one whom he loved but how is it to be done how warned the persons threatened he did not know their address they had reappeared for an instant before his eyes and had then plunged back again into the immense depths of Paris should he wait for Monsieur Le Blanc at the door that evening at six o'clock at the moment of his arrival and warn him of the trap but Jean Dret and his men would see him on the watch the spot was lonely they were stronger than he they would devise means to seize him or get him away and the man whom Marius was anxious to save would be lost one o'clock had just struck the trap was to be sprung at six Marius had five hours before him there was but one thing to be done he put on his decent coat knotted a silk handkerchief round his neck took his hat and went out without making any more noise he had been treading on moss with bare feet moreover the Jean Dret woman continued to rummage among her old iron once outside of the house he made for the roue de petit banquier he had almost reached the middle of this street near a very low wall which a man can easily step over at certain points and which abuts on a waste space and was walking slowly in consequence of his preoccupied condition and the snow had hardened the sound of his steps all at once he heard voices talking very close by he turned his head the street was deserted there was not a soul in it it was broad daylight and yet he distinctly heard voices it occurred to him to glance over the wall which he was skirting there in fact sat two men flat on the snow with their backs against the wall and he heard dude tones these two persons were strangers to him one was a bearded man in a blouse and the other a long-haired individual in rags the bearded man had on a fez the other's head was bare and the snow had lodged in his hair by thrusting his head over the wall Marius could hear their remarks the hairy one jogged the other man's elbow and said it can't fail do you think so? said the bearded man and the long-haired one began again it's as good as a warrant for each one of five hundred balls and the worst that can happen is five years six years ten years at the most the other replied with some hesitation and shivering beneath his fez that's a real thing you can't go against such things I tell you the affair can't go wrong resumed to the long-haired man for what's his name's team will be already harnessed then they began to discuss a melodrama that they had seen on the preceding evening at the gate theater Marius went his way it seemed to him that the mysterious words of these men so strangely hidden behind that wall and crouching in the snow could not but bear some relation to genrets abominable projects that must be the affair he directed his course towards the faux-bourg-se-mar-sau and asked at the first shop he came to where he could find a commissary of police he was directed to Rue de Panteoise, number fourteen Lither Marius betook himself as he passed a baker's shop he bought a two-penny roll and ate it for seeing that he should not dine on the way he rendered justice to providence he reflected that had he not given his five francs to the genret girl in the morning he would have followed M. Leblanc's fiacra and consequently have remained ignorant of everything and that there would have been no obstacle to the trap of the genrets and that M. Leblanc would have been lost at his daughter with him, no doubt CHAPTER XIV Chapter XIV of Book VIII of Les Miserables, Volume III by Victor Hugo this is the LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Bruce Peary Les Miserables, Volume III by Victor Hugo translated by Isabelle Florence Hapgood Chapter XIV in which a police agent bestows two fistfuls on a lawyer on arriving at Number XIV Rue de Pontois he ascended to the first floor and inquired for the commissary of police the commissary of police is not here said a clerk but there is an inspector who takes his place would you like to speak to him are you in haste yes said Marius the clerk introduced him into the commissary's office there stood a tall man behind a grating leaning against the stove and holding up with both hands the tails of a vast topcoat with three collars his face was square with a thin firm mouth thick gray and very ferocious whiskers and a look that was enough to turn your pockets inside out of that glance it might have been well said not that it penetrated but that it searched this man's air was not much less ferocious nor less terrible than gendret's the dog is at times no less terrible to meet than the wolf what do you want he said to Marius without adding monsieur is this monsieur le commissaire de police he is absent I am here in his stead the matter is very private then speak and great haste is required then speak quick this calm abrupt man was both terrifying and reassuring at one end the same time he inspired fear and confidence Marius related the adventure to him that a person with whom he was not acquainted otherwise then by sight was to be invagled into a trap that very evening that as he occupied the room adjoining the den he Marius Paul Merci a lawyer had heard the whole plot through the partition that the wretch who had planned the trap was a certain gendret that there would be accomplices probably some prowlers of the barriers among others a certain panchaud alias printagnier alias birenai that gendret's daughters were to lie in wait that there was no way of warning the threatened man since he did not even know his name and that finally all this was to be carried out at six o'clock that evening at the most deserted point of the boulevard de l'hôpital in house number 50 to 52 at the sound of this number the inspector raised his head and said coldly so it is in the room at the end of the corridor precisely answered Marius and he added, are you acquainted with that house? the inspector remained silent for a moment then replied as he warmed the heel of his boot at the door of the stove apparently he went on muttering between his teeth and not addressing Marius so much as his cravat patron minet must have had a hand in this this word struck Marius patron minet said he I did hear that word pronounced in fact and he repeated to the inspector the dialogue between the long-haired man and the bearded man in the snow behind the wall of the rude petit bonquillet the inspector muttered the long-haired man must be brujon and the bearded one de miliar alias de miliar he had dropped his eyelids again and became absorbed in thought as for father what's his name I think I recognize him here I've burned my coat they always have too much fire in these cursed stoves number 50 to 52 former property of Gorbo then he glanced at Marius you saw only that bearded and that long-haired man and pashow you didn't see a little imp of a dandy prowling about the premises no nor a big lump of matter resembling an elephant in the jardin de plante no nor a scamp with the air of an old red tail no as for the fourth no one sees him not even his agitants, clerks and employees it is not surprising that you did not see him no all those persons asked Marius the inspector answered besides this is not the time for them he relapsed into silence then resumed 50 to 52 I know that barrack impossible to conceal ourselves inside it without the artists seeing us and then they will get off simply by countermanding the vaudeville they are so modest an audience embarrasses them none of that none of that I want to hear them sing and make them dance this monologue concluded he turned to Marius and demanded gazing at him intently the while are you afraid of what said Marius of these men no more than yourself retorted Marius rudely who had begun to notice that this police agent had not yet said monsieur to him the inspector stared still more intently at Marius and continued with sententious solemnity there you speak like a brave man and like an honest man courage does not fear crime and honesty does not fear authority Marius interrupted him that is well but what do you intend to do the inspector contented himself with the remark the lodgers have path keys with which to get in at night you must have one yes said Marius have you at about you yes give it to me said the inspector Marius took his key from his waistcoat pocket handed it to the inspector and added if you will take my advice you will come in force the inspector cast on Marius such a glance as Voltaire might have bestowed on a provincial academician who had suggested a rhyme to him with one movement he plunged his hands which were enormous into the two immense pockets of his topcoat two small steel pistols of the sort called knock me downs then he presented them to Marius saying rapidly in a curt tone take these go home hide in your chamber so that you may be supposed to have gone out they are loaded each one carries two balls you will keep watch there is a hole in the wall as you have informed me these men will come leave them to their own devices for a time when you think matters have reached a crisis and that it is time to put a stop to them fire a shot not too soon the rest concerns me a shot into the ceiling the air no matter where above all things not too soon wait until they begin to put their project into execution you are a lawyer you know the proper point Marius took the pistols and put them in the side pocket of his coat that makes a lump that can be seen said the inspector put them in your trousers pocket Marius hid the pistols in his trousers pockets now pursue the inspector there is not a minute more to be lost by anyone what time is it half past two seven o'clock is the hour six o'clock answered Marius I have plenty of time said the inspector but no more than enough don't forget anything that I have said to you bang a pistol shot rest easy said Marius and as Marius laid his hand on the handle of the door on his way out the inspector called to him say if you have occasion for my services between now and then come or send here you will ask for inspector Javert End of book 8 chapter 14 chapters 15 and 16 of book 8 of Les Miserables volume 3 by Victor Hugo this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Brendan Tannum Les Miserables volume 3 by Victor Hugo translated by Isabelle Florence Hapgood book 8 chapter 15 the genre makes his purchases a few moments later about three o'clock Corfuirec chance to be passing along the room of a tire in company with Bosway the snow had redoubled in violence and filled the air that's just saying to Corfuirec one would say to see all these snowflakes fall that there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven all at once Bosway cuts out of Marius coming up the street towards the barrier with a peculiar air hold said Bosway there's Marius I saw him said Corfuirec don't let speak to him why? he is busy with what? don't you see his air what air? a man who is following someone that's true said Bosway just see the eyes he is making said Corfuirec but who the juice is he following some fine flowery bonnet at Wench he's in love but observe Bosway I don't see any Wench nor any flowery bonnet industry there's not a woman round Corfuirec took a survey and exclaimed he's following a man a man in fact wearing a grey cap and his grey beard could be distinguished although they only saw his back was walking along about 20 paces in advance of Marius this man was dressed in a grey coat which was perfectly new and too large for him and in a frightful pair of trousers all hanging in rags and black with mud Bosway burst out laughing who is that man he retorted Corfuirec he's a pole Poles are very fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in rabbit skins and the overcoats of peers of France let's see where Marius will go said Bosway let's see where the man is going let's follow them hey Bosway exclaimed Corfuirec Eagle of Moe you are a prodigious brute follow a man who is following another man indeed they retraced their steps Marius had in fact seen John Rhett passing along the room of a tower and was spying on his proceedings John Rhett walked straight ahead without a suspicion that he was already held by a glance he quitted the room of a tower and Marius saw him enter one of the most terrible hovels in the Rue Grasseus he remained there about a quarter of an hour then returned to the room of a tower he halted at an iron monger shop which then stood at the corner of the Rue Pierre Lombard and a few minutes later Marius saw him emerge from the shop holding in his hand a huge cold chisel with a white wood handle which he concealed beneath his great coat at the top of the Rue Putti gentilly he turned to the left and proceeded rapidly to the Rue de Putti-Banquier the day was declining the snow which had seized for a moment had just begun again Marius posted himself on the watch at the very corner of the Rue de Putti-Banquier which was deserted as usual and did not follow Jean-Dret into it it was lucky that he did so for on arriving in the vicinity of the wall where Marius had heard the long-haired man on the bearded bank adversing Jean-Dret turned around made sure that no one was following him did not see him then sprang across the wall and disappeared the wasteland bordered by this wall communicated with the backyard of the next livery stablekeeper of Bad Repute who had failed and who still kept a few old single-seated Berlin's under his sheds Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by Jean-Dret's absence to return home moreover it was growing late every evening ma'am began when she set out for her dishwashing in town had a habit of locking the door which was always closed at dusk Marius had given his key to the sector of police it was important therefore that he should make haste evening had arrived night had almost closed in on the horizon and in the immensity of space there remained but one spot illuminated by the sun and that was the moon it was rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome of Salpeteria Marius returned to number 50 to 52 with great strides the door was still open when he arrived he mounted the stairs on tiptoe and glided along the wall of the corridor to his chamber this corridor as the reader will remember was bordered on both sides by attics all of which were, for the moment empty and to let Mahbougan was in the habit of leaving all the doors open as he passed one of these attics Marius thought he perceived in the uninhabited cell the motionless heads of four men vaguely lighted up by a remnant of daylight falling through a dormer window Marius made no attempt to see not wishing to be seen himself he succeeded in reaching his chamber without being seen and without making any noise it was high time a moment later he heard Mahbougan take her departure locking the door of the house behind her End of chapter 15 Chapter 16 in which will be found the words to an English heir which was in fashion in 1832 Marius sees it himself on his bed it might have been half past five o'clock only half an hour separated him from what was about to happen he heard the beating of his arteries as one hears the ticking of a watch in the dark he thought of the double march which was going on at that moment in the dark crime advancing on one side justice coming up on the other he was not afraid but he could not think without a shudder of what was about to take place as is the case with all those who are suddenly assailed by an unforeseen adventure the entire day produced upon him the effect of a dream and in order to persuade himself that he was not the prey of a nightmare he had to feel the cold barrels of the steel pistols in his trousers' pockets it was no longer snowing the moon disengaged itself more and more clearly from the mist and its light mingled with the white reflection of the snow which had fallen communicated to the chamber a sort of twilight aspect there was a light in the genre at then Marius saw the hole in the wall shining with a reddish glow which seemed bloody to him it was true that the light could not be produced by a candle however there was not a sound in the genre at quarters not a soul was moving there not a soul speaking not a breath the silence was glacial and profound and had it not been for that light he might have thought himself next door to a sepulcher Marius softly removed his boots and pushed him under his bed several minutes elapsed Marius heard a lower door turn on its hinges a heavy step mounted the staircase and hastened along the corridor the latch of the hovel was noisily lifted it was Jean-Drette returning instantly several voices arose the whole family was in the garret only it had been silent in the master's absence like wolf-welps in the absence of the wolf its eye said he good evening daddy helped the girls well said the mother going first rate responded Jean-Drette but my feet are beastly cold good you have dressed up you have done well you must inspire confidence all ready to go out don't forget what I told you you will do everything sure rest easy because said Jean-Drette and he left the phrase unfinished Marius heard him lay something heavy on the table probably the chisel which he had purchased by the way said Jean-Drette have you been eating here yes said the mother I got three large potatoes and some salt I took advantage of the fire to cook them good return Jean-Drette tomorrow I will take you out to dine with me we will have a duck and fixings we shall dine like Charles the Tenth all is going well then he added the mouse trap is open the cats are there he lowered his voice still further in the fire Marius heard a sound of charcoal being knocked with the tongs or some iron utensil and Jean-Drette continued have you greased the hinges of the door so that they will not squeak yes replied the mother what time is it nearly six the half-hour struck from Samadhar a while ago the devil ejaculated Jean-Drette the children must go and watch come you do you listen here a whispering ensued Jean-Drette's voice became audible again has old Bougain left yes said the mother are you sure that there is no one in our neighbour's room he has not been in all day and you know very well that this is his dinner hour you are sure sure all the same said Jean-Drette there's no harm in going to see whether he is there here my girl take the candle and go there Marius fell on this hands and knees and crawled silently under his bed hardly had he concealed himself when he perceived a light through the crack of his door papa cried a voice he is not in here he recognised the voice of the eldest daughter did you go in demanded her father no replied the girl but as his key is in the door he must be out the father exclaimed go in nevertheless the door opened and Marius saw the tall Jean-Drette come in with a candle in her hand she was as she had been in the morning only still more repulsive in this light she walked straight up to the bed Marius endured an indescribable moment of anxiety but near the bed there was a mirror nailed to the wall and it was tittered that she was directing her steps she raised herself on tiptoe and looked at herself in it in the neighbouring room the sound of iron articles being moved was audible she smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand and smiled into the mirror humming with her cracked and sepical voice nos amours endures tout doucement make de bonheur les instances en courte ça d'arrêt oui dure c'était bien le pain les tentes des amours devaient duret toujours devraient duret toujours in the meantime Marius trembled it seemed impossible to him that she should not hear his breathing she stepped to the window and looked out with the half-foolish way she had how ugly Paris is when it has put on a white chemise said she she returned to the mirror and began again to put on airs before it scrutinising herself full face and three-quarters face in turn well cried her father what are you about there I am looking under the bed of the furniture she replied continuing to arrange her hair there's no one here booby yelled her father come here this minute and don't waste any time about it coming, coming said she one has no time for anything in this hovel she hummed vous moquite pour aller à la gloire montriste course we've wrapped part two the parting glance in the mirror and went out shutting the door behind her a moment more and Marius heard the sound of the two young girls bare feet in the corridor and Jean-Drette's voice shouting to them Pays strict heed one on the side of the barrier the other at the corner of the rue de Putty-Banquier don't lose sight for a moment of the door of this house and the moment you see anything rush here on the instant as hard as you can go you have a key to get in the eldest girl grumbled the idea of standing watch in the snow bare foot tomorrow you shall have some dainty little green silk boots said the father they ran downstairs and a few seconds later the shock of the outer door as it banged to announce that they were outside there now remained in the house only Marius the Jean-Drette's and probably also the mysterious persons of whom Marius had caught a glimpse in the twilight behind the door of the unused attic End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17-18 of Book 8 of Le Miserable Volume 3 by Victor Hugo This is the LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Stephanie from Louisiana Le Miserable Volume 3 by Victor Hugo Translated by Isabel Florence Hapgood Book 8 The Wicked Poor Man Chapter 17 The Use Made of Marius's Five Frank Peace Marius decided that the moment had now arrived when he must resume his post at his observatory In a twinkling and with the agility of his age he had reached the hole in the partition He looked The interior of the genre department presented a curious aspect and Marius found an explanation of the singular light which he had noticed A candle was burning in a candlestick covered with vertigree but that was not what really lighted the chamber The hovel was completely illuminated as it were by the reflection from a rather large sheet iron brazier standing in the fireplace filled with burning charcoal The brazier prepared by the Jean-Drette woman that morning The charcoal was glowing hot and the brazier was red A blue flame flickered over it and helped him to make out the form of the chisel purchased by Jean-Drette in the rue Pierre-Lombard where it had been thrust into the brazier to heat In one corner near the door and as though prepared for some definite use two heaps were visible They appear to be the one a heap of old iron the other a heap of ropes All this would have caused the mind of a person who knew nothing of what was in preparation to waver between a very sinister and a very simple idea The lair thus lighted up more resembled a forge than a mouth of hell but Jean-Drette in this light had rather the air of a demon than of a smith The heat of the brazier was so great that the candle on the table was melting on the side next the chafing dish and was drooping over An old dark lantern of copper worthy of diogenes turned cartouche stood on the chimney piece The brazier placed in the fireplace itself beside the nearly extinct brands sent its vapors up the chimney and gave out no odor The moon through the four panes of the window cast its whiteness into the crimson and flaming garret and to the poetic spirit of Marius who was dreamy even in the moment of action it was like a thought of heaven mingled with the misshapen reveries of earth A breath of air which made its way in through the open pane helped to dissipate the smell of the charcoal and to conceal the presence of the brazier The Jean-Drette lair was if the reader recalls what we have said at the Gorbeau building admirably chosen to serve as the theatre of a violent and sombre deed and as the envelope for a crime It was the most retired chamber in the most isolated house on the most deserted boulevard in Paris If the system of ambush and traps had not already existed they would have been invented there The whole thickness of a house and a multitude of uninhabited rooms separated this den from the boulevard and the only window that existed opened on wastelands enclosed with walls and palisades Jean-Drette had lighted his pipe seated himself on the seatless chair and was engaged in smoking His wife was talking to him in a low tone If Marius had been couferac, that is to say one of those men who laugh on every occasion in life he would have burst with laughter when his gaze fell on the Jean-Drette woman She had on a black bonnet with plumes not unlike the hat said the heralds and arms at the coronation of Charles X an immense tartan shawl over her knitted petticoat and the man's shoes which her daughter had scorned in the morning It was this toilette which had extracted from Jean-Drette the exclamation First up, you have done well you must inspire confidence As for Jean-Drette he had not taken off the noose or two which was too large for him and which Monsieur Leblanc had given him and his costume continued to present that contrast of coat and trousers which constituted the ideal of a poet in couferac's eyes All at once Jean-Drette lit up his voice By the way now that I think of it in this weather he will come in a carriage light the lantern, take it and go downstairs you will stand behind the lower door the very moment that you hear the carriage stop you will open the door instantly he will come up you will light the staircase in the corridor and when he enters here you will go downstairs again as speedily as possible and dismiss the viacre and the money inquired the woman Jean-Drette fumbled in his trousers pocket and handed her five francs what's this she exclaimed Jean-Drette replied with dignity that is the monarch which our neighbor gave us this morning and he added do you know what two chairs will be needed here what for to sit on Marius felt a cold chill pass through his limbs at hearing this mild answer from Jean-Drette Padille all go and get one of our neighbors and with a rapid movement she opened the door of the den and went out into the corridor Marius absolutely had not the time to descend from the commode reach his bed and conceal himself beneath it take the candle cried Jean-Drette no said she it would embarrass me the two chairs to carry there is moonlight Marius heard mother Jean-Drette's heavy hand fumbling at his lock in the dark the door opened he remained nailed to the spot with the shock and with horror the Jean-Drette entered the dormer window permitted the entrance of array of moonlight between two blocks of shadow one of these blocks of shadow entirely covered the wall against which Marius was leaning but he disappeared within it mother Jean-Drette raised her eyes to not see Marius took the two chairs the only ones which Marius possessed and went away letting the door fall heavily too behind her she re-entered the lair here are the two chairs and here is the lantern go down as quick as you can she hastily obeyed and Jean-Drette was left alone he placed the two chairs opposite sides of the table turned the chisel in the brazier set in front of the fireplace an old screen which masked the chafing dish then went to the corner where lay the pile of rope and bent down as though to examine something Marius then recognized the fact that what he had taken for a shapeless mass was a very well made rope ladder with wooden rungs and two hooks with which to attach it this ladder with large tools veritable masses of iron which were mingled with the old iron piled up behind the door had not been in the Jean-Drette's harbour in the morning and had evidently been brought thither in the afternoon during Marius' absence those are the utensils of an edge toolmaker thought Marius had Marius been a little more learned in this line he would have recognized in what he took for the engines of an edge toolmaker there were two elements which will force a lock or pick a lock and others which will cut or slice the two families of tools which burglars call cadets and fauchants the fireplace and the two chairs were exactly opposite Marius the brazier being concealed the only light in the room was now furnished by the candle the smallest bit of crockery on the table or on the chimney piece cast a large shadow there was something indescribably calm threatening and hideous about this chamber one felt that there existed in it the anticipation of something terrible Jean-Drette had allowed his pipe to go out a serious sign of preoccupation and had again seated himself the candle brought out the fierce and the fine angles of his countenance he indulged in scowls and in abrupt unfoldings of the right hand as though he were responding to the last councils of a somber inward monologue in the course of one of these dark replies which he was making to himself he pulled the table drawer rapidly towards him, took out a long kitchen knife which was concealed there and tried the edge of its blade on his nail that done he put the knife back in the drawer and shut it Marius on his side grasped the pistol in his right pocket drew it out and cocked it the pistol emitted a sharp clear click as he cocked it Jean-Drette started half-rose listened a moment then began to laugh and said what a fool I am it's the partition cracking Marius kept the pistol in his hand Chapter 18 Marius's two chairs form Avis-Avis the distant and melancholy vibration of a clock shook the pains six o'clock was striking from Saint-Medard Jean-Drette marked off each stroke with a toss of his head when the sixth had struck he snuffed the candle with his fingers then he began to pace up and down the room, listened at the corridor walked on again, then listened once more provided only that he comes, he muttered and returned to his chair he had hardly receded himself when the door opened Mother Jean-Drette had opened it and now remained in the corridor making a horrible, amiable grimace which one of the holes of the dark lantern illuminated from below Enter, sir, she said Enter, my benefactor repeated Jean-Drette rising hastily Monsieur Leblanc made his appearance he wore an air of serenity which rendered him singularly venerable he laid four louis on the table Monsieur Fabantou, said he this is for your rent and your most pressing necessities we will attend to the rest hereafter may God require it to you my generous benefactor said Jean-Drette and rapidly approaching his wife dismissed the carriage she slipped out while her husband was lavishing salutes and offering Monsieur Leblanc a chair an instant later she returned and whispered in his ear tis done the snow which had not ceased falling since the morning was so deep that the arrival of the fiacour had not been audible and they did not now hear its departure meanwhile Monsieur Leblanc had seated himself Jean-Drette had taken possession of the other chair facing Monsieur Leblanc now in order to form an idea of the scene which is to follow let the reader picture to himself in his own mind a cold night the solitudes of the salt patrières covered with snow and white as winding sheets in the moonlight the taper-lack lights of the street lanterns which shone redly here and there along those tragic boulevards and the long rows of black elms not a passer-by for perhaps a quarter of a league around the Gaubeau Havle at its highest pitch of silence of horror and of darkness in that building in the midst of those solitudes in the midst of that darkness the vast Jean-Drette Garrett lighted by a single candle and in that den two men seated at a table Monsieur Leblanc tranquil Jean-Drette smiling and alarming the Jean-Drette woman the female wolf in one corner and behind the partition Mariusz invisible erect not losing a word not missing a single movement his eye on the watch and pistol in hand however Mariusz experienced only an emotion of horror but no fear he clasped the stock of the pistol to stop that wretch whenever I please he thought he felt that the police were there somewhere in ambuscade waiting for the signal agreed upon and ready to stretch out their arm moreover he was in hopes that this violent encounter between Jean-Drette and Monsieur Leblanc would cast some light on all the things which he was interested in learning End of Book 8 Chapter 17-18 Recording by Stephanie from Louisiana