by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER VI.
BOULATRUELLE MAY HAVE BEEN RIGHT.
On the afternoon of this same Christmas day, 1823, a man walked for along time about the most desolate part of the Boulevard de l'Hôpital,at Paris. He seemed to be looking for a lodging, and to stop for choiceat the most shabby houses in this skirt of the Faubourg St. Marceau.As we shall see presently, this man had really hired a bed-room inthis isolated district. Both in dress and person he realized the typeof what might be called the respectable mendicant, or extreme miserycombined with extreme cleanliness. This is a very rare blending, whichinspires intelligent minds with the twofold respect which is feltfor the very poor and the very worthy man. He wore a very old andcarefully-brushed round hat, a threadbare coat of coarse yellow-ochrecolored cloth,--a color which was not absolutely odd at that day,--along waistcoat with enormous pockets, black breeches which had turnedgray at the knees, black worsted stockings, and stout shoes with brassbuckles. He looked like the ex-tutor of a good family returned fromemigration. From his white hair, wrinkled forehead, livid lips, and hisface in which everything revealed weariness of life, he might havebeen supposed much beyond sixty years of age; but his firm though slowstep, and the singular vigor imprinted on all his movements, made himlook scarce fifty. The wrinkles on his forehead were well placed, andwould have favorably disposed any one who observed him closely; his lipwas contracted by a strange curve, which seemed stern, but was humble,and there was a lugubrious serenity in his look. He carried in his lefthand a small parcel tied up in a handkerchief; and in his right he hada stick cut from a hedge. This stick had been carved with some care,and was not too bad-looking; advantage had been taken of the knots, anda coral knob had been made with red sealing-wax,--it was a cudgel andseemed a cane.
Few people pass along this boulevard, especially in winter; thisman, however, seemed to avoid rather than seek them, though withoutaffectation. At this period Louis XVIII. went almost daily to Choisyle Roi, which was one of his favorite drives. At two o'clock theroyal carriage and escort could almost invariably be seen passing atfull gallop along the Boulevard de l'Hôpital. This did as well as aclock or watch for the poor women of the district, who said, "It istwo o'clock, for he is returning to the Tuileries." And some ran upand others drew up, for a king who passes always produces a tumult.Moreover, the appearance and disappearance of Louis XVIII. produced acertain effect in the streets of Paris, for it was rapid but majestic.This impotent king had a taste for galloping; unable to walk, he wishedto run; and this cripple would have liked to be drawn by lightning.He passed, peaceful and stern, amid drawn sabres; his heavy gildedberline, with large branches of lilies painted on the panels, rollednoisily along. There was scarce time to take a glance at him; you sawin the right-hand corner a broad, firm, red face, a healthy foreheadpowdered _à l'oiseau royal_, a proud, harsh, artful eye, an intelligentsmile, two heavy epaulettes with hanging fringe upon a civilian coat;the golden fleece, the Cross of St. Louis, the Cross of the Legion ofHonor, the silver plate of the Holy Ghost, a large stomach, and a wideblue ribbon,--it was the king. When out of Paris he carried his whitefeathered hat on his knees, up to which came tall English gaiters; whenhe returned to the city he put his hat on his head, and bowed rarely.He looked at the people coldly, and they returned the compliment; whenhe appeared for the first time in the Faubourg St. Marceau, his entiresuccess consisted in a remark made by a workman to his chum,--"That fatman is the government."
The infallible passage of the king at the same hour was hence the dailyevent of the Boulevard de l'Hôpital. The promenader in the yellow coatplainly did not belong to that quarter, and probably not to Paris, forhe was ignorant of the fact. When at two o'clock the royal carriage,surrounded by Life Guards with their silver aiguillettes, turned intothe boulevard, after coming round the Salpêtrière, he seemed surprisedand almost terrified. As he was alone in the walk, he quickly concealedhimself behind an angle of the wall; but this did not prevent the Ducd'Havre from noticing him. As Captain of the Guards on duty that day,he was seated in the carriage opposite to the king, and said to hisMajesty,--"There is an ill-looking fellow." The policemen, who clearedthe way for the king, also noticed him, and one of them receivedorders to follow him. But the man turned into the solitary streets ofthe Faubourg, and, as night was setting in, the agent lost his trail,as is proved by a report addressed the same evening to Count Anglès,Minister of State and Prefect of Police. When the man in the yellowcoat had thrown out the agent, he doubled his pace, though not withoutlooking back many times to make sure that he was not followed. At aquarter-past four, that is to say, at nightfall, he passed in frontof the Porte St. Martin theatre, where the "Two Convicts" would beperformed that evening. This bill, lit up by theatre lamps, struck him,for though he was walking rapidly, he stopped to read it. A momentlater he entered "The Pewter Platter," which was at that time theoffice of the Lagny coach, which started at half-past four. The horseswere put in, and the passengers, summoned by the driver, were hastilyclambering up the iron steps of the vehicle. The man asked,--
"Have you a seat left?"
"Only one, by my side, on the box," the driver said.
"I will take it."
"Get up," the driver said.
Before starting, however, he took a glance at the passenger's poordress and the smallness of his bundle, and asked for the fare.
"Are you going all the way to Lagny?" he said.
"Yes," the man answered.
The traveller paid his fare to Lagny and the coach started. Afterpassing the city gate, the driver tried to get up a conversation, butthe traveller only answered in monosyllables; so the driver beganwhistling and swearing at his horses. As the night was cold, he wrappedhimself in his cloak, but the passenger did not seem to notice it. Atabout six o'clock they reached Chelles, where the driver stopped for amoment to let his horses breathe, at an inn opened in the old buildingsof the Royal Abbey.
"I shall get down here," the man said.
He took his bundle and stick and jumped off the coach. A moment afterhe had disappeared, but he did not enter the inn. When the coachmanstarted again a few moments after, he did not meet him in the highstreet of Lagny, and he turned round to his inside passengers:--
"That man," he said, "does not belong to these parts, for I do notknow him. He looks as if he had not a penny; and yet he don't care formoney, as he paid his fare to Lagny and only came as far as Chelles. Itis night, all the houses are closed, he has not gone into the inn, andyet I can't see him, so he must have sunk into the ground."
The man had not sunk into the ground, but walked hastily along the mainstreet of Chelles, in the darkness; then he turned to his left beforereaching the church, into a cross-road that runs to Montfermeil, likea man who knows the country and had been there before. He followed thisroad rapidly, and at the spot where it is intersected by the old roadthat runs from Lagny to Gagny, he heard wayfarers coming. He hurriedlyconcealed himself in a ditch, and waited till they had passed; theprecaution, however, was almost superfluous, for, as we have said,it was a very dark December night, and only two or three stars werevisible in the sky. The man did not return to the Montfermeil road, butwent to his right, across the fields, and hurried in the direction ofthe wood. When he was in it, he slackened his pace, and began lookingcarefully at all the trees, walking step by step, as if seeking andfollowing a mysterious road known to himself alone. There was a momentat which he seemed to lose himself and appeared undecided; but at last,by repeated groping, he reached a glade in which there was a pileof large white stones. He walked hurriedly toward these stones andattentively examined them, as if passing them in review. A large tree,covered with those excrescences which are the warts of vegetation, wasa few paces from the heap; he went up to it and passed his hand overthe back as if trying to recognize and count all the warts. Oppositethis tree, which was an ash, there was a sickly chestnut shedding itsbark, upon which a ring of zinc had been placed as a poultice. He stoodon tip-toe and felt this ring; then he examined for some t
ime theground in the space contained between the tree and the stones, as ifassuring himself that the ground had not been freshly turned up. Thisdone, he looked about him, and resumed his walk through the wood.
It was this man who came across Cosette. While proceeding in thedirection of Montfermeil, he perceived this little shadow depositing aload on the ground, then taking it up again and continuing her journey.He went up and saw that it was a young child carrying an enormousbucket; then he drew to her side and silently took the bucket handle.
