by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER IX.
THÉNARDIER AT WORK.
The next morning, almost two hours before daybreak, Thénardier wasseated, pen in hand, at a table in the tap-room, and making out thebill of the yellow-coated traveller. His wife, standing behind him,was watching him; they did not exchange a syllable; on one side therewas a profound meditation, on the other that profound admiration withwhich people watch a marvel of the human mind expanding. A noise couldbe heard in the house; it was the Lark sweeping the stairs. At the endof a quarter of an hour and some erasures, Thénardier produced thismasterpiece,--
"THE GENT IN NO. 1.
Supper.... 3 francs. Bed....... 10 " Candles... 5 " Fire...... 4 " Service... 1 " __ Total 23 francs."
Service was written _serviss._
"Twenty-three francs!" the wife exclaimed, with an admiration mingledwith some hesitation.
Like all great artists, Thénardier was not satisfied, and said, "Pooh!"It was the accent of Castlereagh drawing up the little bill for Franceto pay at the Congress of Vienna.
"Monsieur Thénardier, you are right; he certainly owes it," the wifemuttered, thinking of the doll given to Cosette in the presence of herchildren: "it is fair, but it is too much; he will not pay it."
Thénardier gave his cold laugh, and said, "He will pay it!"
This laugh was the supreme signification of certainty and authority;what was said in this way must be. The wife made no objection, butbegan arranging the tables, while her husband walked up and down theroom; a moment after he added,--
"Why, I owe fifteen hundred francs."
He sat down in the ingle-nook, meditating with his feet in the warmashes.
"By the bye," the wife continued, "you don't forget that I mean tobundle out Cosette to-day? The monster! she eats my heart with herdoll; I would sooner marry Louis XVIII. than keep her a day longer inthe house."
Thénardier lit his pipe, and said between two puffs,--"You will handthe man the bill."
Then he went out, and had scarce left the room ere the travellerentered; Thénardier at once appeared behind and stood in the half-opendoor, only visible to his wife. The yellow man carried his stick andbundle in his hand.
"Up so soon?" the landlady said. "Are you going to leave us already,sir?"
While speaking this, she turned the bill in her hands with anembarrassed air and made folds in it with her nails; her harsh face hadan unusual look of timidity and scruple. It seemed to her difficultto present such a bill to a man who looked so thoroughly poor. Thetraveller seemed absent and preoccupied, as he replied,--
"Yes, Madame, I am going."
"Then you had no business to transact at Montfermeil, sir?" shecontinued.
"No; I am merely passing through, that is all. What do I owe you,Madame?"
The landlady, without replying, handed him the folded paper; he openedand looked at it, but his attention was visibly elsewhere.
"Do you do a good business here?" he asked.
"Tolerably well, sir," the landlady answered, stupefied at not seeingany other explosion; then she went on with an elegiac and lamentableaccent,--
"Oh, sir, times are very bad! And then there are So few respectablepeople in these parts. It is lucky we have now and then generous andrich travellers like yourself, sir, for the expenses are so high. Why,that little girl costs us our eyes out of our head."
"What little girl?"
"Why, you know, Cosette, the Lark, as they call her hereabout."
"Oh!" said the man.
She continued,--
"What asses these peasants are with these nick-names! She looks morelike a bat than a lark. You see, sir, we don't ask for charity, but wecan't give it; our earnings are small and our expenses great,--thelicense, the door and window tax, and so on! You know, sir, that theGovernment claims a terrible deal of money. And then I have my owndaughters, and do not care to support another person's child."
The man replied, in a voice which he strove to render careless, and inwhich there was a tremor,--
"And suppose you were freed of her?"
"Of whom,--of Cosette?"
The landlady's red and violent face was illumined by a hideous grin.
"Ah, sir, my good sir; take her, keep her, carry her off, sugar her,stuff her with truffles, eat her, drink her, and may all the Saints inParadise bless you!"
"It is settled."
"You really will take her away at once?"
"At once. Call her."
"Cosette!" the landlady shouted.
"In the mean while," the man continued, "I will pay my score. How muchis it?"
He took a glance at the bill, and could not restrain a start ofsurprise. Twenty-three francs! He looked at the landlady and repeated,"Twenty-three francs?" There was in his pronunciation of the two wordsthe accent which separates the point of exclamation from the pointof interrogation. Madame Thénardier had had time to prepare for thecollision, and hence answered with assurance,--
"Yes, sir, twenty-three francs."
The stranger laid five five-franc pieces on the table.
"Go and fetch the girl," he said.
At this moment Thénardier walked into the middle of the room and said,--
"The gentleman owes twenty-six sous."
"Twenty-six sous!" the wife exclaimed.
"Twenty sous for the bed-room," Thénardier continued coldly, "andsix for the supper. As for the girl, I must talk a little with thegentleman first. Leave us, wife."
The landlady had one of those bedazzlements which unforeseen flashes oftalent produced; she felt that the great actor had come on the stage,made no answer, and went out. So soon as they were alone Thénardieroffered the traveller a chair. He sat down; Thénardier remainedstanding, and his face assumed a singular expression of kindliness andsimplicity.
"I must tell you," he said, "sir, that I adore the child."
The stranger looked at him fixedly.
"What child?"
Thénardier continued,--
"How strange it is, but you grow attached to them. What is the meaningof all that money? Put it back in your pocket; I adore the child."
"What child?" the stranger asked.
"Why, our little Cosette! Don't you wish to take her from us? Well, Ispeak frankly, and as true as you are an honest man, I cannot consent.I should miss the child, for I have known her since she was a baby: itis true that she costs us money, that she has her faults, that we arenot rich, and that I paid more than upwards of four hundred francs formedicines alone in one of her illnesses. She has neither father normother, and I brought her up; and I have bread both for her and for me.Look you, I am fond of the child; affection grows on you; I am a goodfoolish fellow, and don't reason; I love the girl, and though my wifeis quick, she loves her too. She is like our own child, and I want tohear her prattle in the house."
The stranger still looked at him fixedly, as he continued,--
"Excuse me, sir, but a child can't be given like that to the firstpasser-by. You will allow that I am right? I don't say that you arenot rich and look like a very worthy man, and that it may be for herwelfare; but I am bound to know. You understand that supposing I lether go and sacrificed myself, I should like to know where she isgoing, and not lose her out of sight; I should wish to know where sheis, and go and see her now and then, to convince the child that herfoster-father is watching over her. In short, there are some thingswhich are not possible; I don't even know your name. I ought at leastto see some scrap of paper, a passport, and so on."
The stranger, without ceasing to fix on him that look which pierces tothe bottom of the conscience, said in a grave, firm voice,--
"Monsieur Thénardier, a man does not require a passport to go fourleagues from Paris; and if I take Cosette away, I take her away, thatis all. You will not know my name, my residence, or where she is; andit is my intention that she shall never see you again. I break thestring which she has round her foot, and away she flies. Does thatsuit you? Yes or
no!"
In the same way as demons and genii recognize, by certain signs, thepresence of a superior deity, Thénardier understood that he had to dowith a very strong man. It was a sort of intuition, and he comprehendedwith his distinct and sagacious promptitude. On the previous evening,while drinking, smoking, and singing, he had constantly lookedat the stranger, watching him like a cat and studying him like amathematician. He had both watched him on his own account, throughpleasure and instinct, and played the spy on him as if paid to doso. Not a gesture or movement of the yellow-coated man escaped him,and even before the stranger so clearly manifested his interest inCosette, Thénardier divined it. He surprised the profound glances ofthis old man which constantly reverted to the child. Why this interest?Who was this man? Why was his attire so wretched when his purse wasso full? These questions he asked himself and could not answer, andthey irritated him; he reflected on them the whole night. He couldnot be Cosette's father. Was he her grandfather? Then, why did he notmake himself known at once? When a man has a claim, he proves it,and this man evidently had no claim on Cosette. In that case, whatwas it? Thénardier lost himself in suppositions; he caught a gleamof everything and saw nothing. However this might be, on beginningthe conversation, feeling sure that there was a secret in all this,and that the man was interested in remaining in the shadow, he felthimself strong; but on hearing the stranger's firm and distinct answer,when he saw that this mysterious person was simply mysterious, hefelt himself weak. He had not expected anything of this sort, and itrouted his conjectures. He rallied his ideas, and weighed all this in asecond. Thénardier was one of those men who judge of a situation at aglance, and considered that it was the moment to advance straight andrapidly. He behaved like great captains at that decisive instant whichthey alone can recognize, and suddenly unmasked his battery.
"Sir," he said, "I want one thousand five hundred francs."
The stranger drew from his side-pocket an old black leathern portfolio,and took from it three bank-notes which he laid on the table; then heplaced his large thumb on the notes, and said to the landlord,--
"Bring Cosette here."
While this was taking place, what was Cosette about? On waking, sheran to her sabot and found the gold coin in it; it was not a napoleon,but one of those new twenty-franc pieces of the Restoration, on whichthe Prussian queue was substituted for the crown of laurels. Cosettewas dazzled, and her destiny was beginning to intoxicate her; she knewnot what a gold piece was, she had never seen one, and she hurriedlyhid it in her pocket, as if she had stolen it. She felt it was reallyhers; she guessed whence the gift came, but she experienced a feelingof joy full of fear. She was happy, but she was more stupefied; thesemagnificent things did not seem to her real,--the doll frightenedher, the gold coin frightened her, and she trembled vaguely at thismagnificence. The stranger alone did not frighten her; on the contrary,he reassured her since the previous evening. Through her amazement andher sleep, she thought in her little childish mind of this man, wholooked so old and poor and sad, and who was so rich and good. Eversince she met him in the wood all had changed for her, as it were.Cosette, less happy than the meanest swallow, had never yet known whatit is to take refuge in the shadow and beneath the wing of her mother;for five years, that is to say, so far back as her thoughts went, thepoor child had trembled and shuddered. She had always been exposed inher nudity to the bleak blast of misfortune, and she felt as if shewere clothed; formerly her soul was cold, now it was warm. Cosetteno longer felt afraid of her mistress, for she was no longer alone;she had some one by her side. She had set about her daily work veryquickly, and the louis, which she had in the same pocket from which thefifteen-sous piece fell on the previous night, caused her thoughts tostray. She did not dare touch it, but she looked at it for five minutesat a time. While sweeping the stairs, she stood motionless, forgettingher broom and the whole world, engaged in watching this star sparkle inher pocket. It was during one of these contemplations that her mistresscame to her; by her husband's order she had come to fetch the child,and, extraordinary to say, did not strike her, or even abuse her.
"Cosette," she said almost gently, "come directly."
A moment after, Cosette entered the tap-room. The stranger took hisbundle and untied it; it contained a complete mourning dress for achild of seven years of age.
"My dear," the man said, "take these and go and dress yourself quickly."
Day was breaking, when those inhabitants of Montfermeil who werebeginning to open their doors saw a poorly-clad man and a girl, holdinga large doll, going along the Paris road toward Livry. It was our manand Cosette. No one knew the man, and few recognized Cosette in hernew dress. Cosette was going away. With whom, she was ignorant. Whereto, she did not know. All she understood was that she was leavingThénardier's pot-house behind her; no one thought of saying good-byto her, or she to any one. She left the house, hated and hating. Poorgentle being, whose heart up to this hour had only been compressed!
Cosette walked gravely, opening her large eyes and looking at the sky;she had placed her louis in the pocket of her new apron, and from timeto time stooped down and looked at it, and then at her companion.
