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图书介绍

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 Jondrette 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 fiacre 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 Fabantou had been
addressed “to the benevolent gentleman of the church ofnot 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 revery.　

He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these words,which
were fraught with a strange interest for him:–　

“I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized him.”

Of whom was Jondrette speaking? Whom had he recognized? M. Leblanc? The
father of “his Ursule”? What! Did Jondrette 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, t?郤TIFY”>She raised her dull eyes, in which a sort of gleam seemed to flicker
vaguely, and said:–

“Monsieur Marius, you look sad. What is the matter with you?”

“With me!” said Marius.

“Yes, you.”

“There is nothing the 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 help my father. When it is necessary to carry letters,to go to houses, to
inquire from door to door, to find out an address,to follow any one, 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 some one speaks to the persons, that suffices to let
them understand matters, and everything comes right. Make use of me.”

An idea flashed across Marius’ mind. What branch does one disdain when
one feels that one is falling? He drew near to the Jondrette 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.”

“Dost thou know their address?”

“No.”

“Find it for me.”

The Jondrette’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 lady’s 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 revery.　

He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these words,which
were fraught with a strange interest for him:–　

“I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized him.”

Of whom was Jondrette speaking? Whom had he recognized? M. Leblanc? The
father of “his Ursule”? What! Did Jondrette 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 enwrapped 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 peep-hole in the partition wall.

Again he beheld the interior of Jondrette’s hovel.

图书介绍

Marius had lost nothing of this entire scene, and yet, in reality,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 contemplated, not that
girl, but that light which wore a satin pelisse 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 packn;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 Rue De la
Barriere-des-Gobelins, Jondrette, 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 />H灌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 re-discovered her. He leaped 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, Jondrette was talkative,M. Leblanc had, no doubt, not yet regained his
carriage; if, on turning round in the corridor, or 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 fiacre turning the corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier, on its way back to Paris.　

Marius rushed headlong in that direction. On arriving at the angle of
the boulevard, he caught sight of the fiacre again, rapidly descending the Rue Mouffetard;
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 fiacre, 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 fiacre. That was sure, efficacious, and free from danger. 　

Marius made the driver a sign to halt, and called to him:–

“By the hour?”　

Marius wore no cravat, he had on his working-coat, which was destitute
of buttons, his shirt was torn along one of the plaits 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 sous about him.　

“How much?” he demanded.　

“Forty sous.”　

“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 sous, 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 and 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 to that 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 M. Leblanc had promised to return in
the evening, and that all he had to do was to set about the matter more skilfully, 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 Rue De la
Barriere-des-Gobelins, Jondrette, 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 Jondrette was talking
resembled a certain Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, whom Courfeyrac 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 Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille,
figured later on in many criminal trials, and became a notorious rascal. He was at that
time only a famous rascal. To-day 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 reign. And in the
evening, at nightfall, at the hour when groups form and talk in whispers, he was discussed
at La Force in the Fosse-aux-Lions. One 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, PANCHAUD, 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.

图书介绍

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 kindliness of a brahmin, 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, if anything; he
knew nothing more about the beautifulmaiden of the Luxembourg and the man whom he called
M. Leblanc,except that Jondrette was acquainted with them. Athwart the  mysterious
words which had been uttered, the only thing of which he caught a distinct glimpse 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 Jondrettes must be thwarted, and the web of these
spiders broken. 　

He scanned the female Jondrette for a moment. She had pulled an old
sheet-iron stove 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 Jondrettes 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 was it to be done? How warn 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 M. Leblanc at the
door that evening at six o’clock, at the moment of his arrival, and warn him of the trap?
But Jondrette 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 to 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 than if he had been
treading on moss with bare feet.

Moreover, the Jondrette woman continued to rummage among her old iron.　

Once outside of the house, he made for the Rue du 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 deadened 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, talking together in subdued 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:–

“–With the assistance of Patron-Minette, 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 that the affair can’t go wrong,” resumed the
long-haired man. “Father 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 Gaite Theatre.　

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
Jondrette’s abominable projects. That must be the affair.　

He directed his course towards the faubourg Saint-Marceau and asked at
the first shop he came to where he could find a commissary of police.

He was directed to Rue de Pontoise, No. 14.

Thither Marius betook himself.

As he passed a baker’s shop, he bought a two-penny roll, and ate
it,foreseeing 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 Jondrette girl in the morning,he would have followed M.
Leblanc’s fiacre, and consequently have remained ignorant of everything, and that there
would have been no obstacle to the trap of the Jondrettes and that M. Leblanc would have
been lost, and his daughter with him, no doubt.

图书介绍

Marius seated 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 himqelt;

The father exclaimed:–

“Go in, nevertheless.”

The door opened, and Marius saw the tall Jondrette 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
thither that she was directing her steps. She raised herself on tiptoe and looked at
herself in it. In the neighboring 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 sepulchral voice:–

Nos amours ont dure toute une semaine,[28] Mais que du bonheur les
instants sont courts!S’ad}QЩ?pushed them under his bed.

Several minutes elapsed. Marius heard the 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 Jondrette returning.　

Instantly, several voices arose. The whole family was in the garret.
Only, it had been silent in the master’s absence, like wolf whelps in the absence of the
wolf.

“It’s I,” said he.

“Good evening, daddy,” yelped the girls.

“Well?” said the mother.

“All’s going first-rate,” responded Jondrette, “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 Jondrette. 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 Jondrette, “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,” returned Jondrette. “To-morrow I will take you
out to dine with me. We will have a duck and fixings. You 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, and said:–

“Put this in the fire.”

Marius heard a sound of charcoal being knocked with the tongs or some
iron utensil, and Jondrette 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 Saint-Medard a while
ago.”

“The devil!” ejaculated Jondrette; “the children must go
and watch. Come you, do you listen here.”　

A whispering ensued.

Jondrette’s voice became audible again:–

“Has old Bougon left?”

“Yes,” said the mother.

“Are you sure that there is no one in our neighbor’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 Jondrette, “there’s no harm in
going to see whether he is there. Here, my girl, take the candle and go there.”　

Marius fell on his 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.

“P’pa,” cried a voice, “he is not in here.”

He recognized 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 Jondrette 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
thither that she was directing her steps. She raised herself on tiptoe and looked at
herself in it. In the neighboring 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 sepulchral voice:–

Nos amours ont dure toute une semaine,[28] Mais que du bonheur les
instants sont courts!S’adorer huit jours, c’ etait bien la peine!Le temps des amours
devait durer toujours!Devrait durer toujours! devrait durer toujours!　

[28] Our love has lasted a whole week, but how short are the instants
of happiness! To adore each other for eight days was hardly worth the while! The time of
love should last forever.

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,scrutinizing herself full-face and three-quarters face in turn.　

“Well!” cried her father, “what are you about
there?”

“I am looking under the bed and 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 me quittez pour aller a la gloire;[29] Mon triste coeur suivra
partout.　

[29] You leave me to go to glory; my sad heart will follow you
everywhere.

She cast a 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 Jondrette’s voice shouting to them:–

“Pay strict heed! One on the side of the barrier, the other at the
corner of the Rue du Petit-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 barefoot!”

“To-morrow you shall have some dainty little green silk
boots!” said the father.

They ran down stairs, and a few seconds later the shock of the outer
door as it banged to announced that they were outside.

There now remained in the house only Marius, the Jondrettes and
probably, also, the mysterious persons of whom Marius had caught a glimpse in the
twilight, behind the door of the unused attic.

图书介绍

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 Jondrette apartment 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 verdigris, 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,and filled with burning charcoal, the
brazier prepared by the Jondrette 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 Jondrette 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, which appeared 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
ehahock and with horror.

The Jondrette entered.

The dormer window permitted the entrance of a ray of moonlight between
two blocks of shadow. One of these blocks of shadow entirely covered the wall against
which Marius was leaning,so that he disappeared within it.

Mother Jondrette raised her eyes, did not see Mariu蛾j∴d 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, entering 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 Jondrette lair was, if the reader recalls what we have said of 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 waste
lands enclosed with walls and palisades.

Jondrette 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 Courfeyrac, 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 Jondrette woman. She had on a black bonnet with plumes not unlike the hats of the
heralds-at-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 Jondrette the exclamation: “Good! You have dressed
up.

You have done well. You must inspire confidence!”

As for Jondrette, he had not taken off the new surtout, which was too
large for him, and which M. Leblanc had given him, and his costume continued to present
that contrast of coat and trousers which constituted the ideal of a poet in Courfeyrac’s
eyes. 　

All at once, Jondrette lifted 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 down stairs. 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 and the corridor, and when he
enters here, you will go down stairs again as speedily as possible, you will pay the
coachman, and dismiss the fiacre.

“And the money?” inquired the woman.

Jondrette fumbled in his trousers pocket and handed her five francs.

“What’s this?” she exclaimed.

Jondrette 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 Jondrette.

“Pardieu! I’ll go and get one of our neighbor’s.”

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 Jondrette.

“No,” said she, “it would embarrass me, I have the two
chairs to carry.  There is moonlight.”

Marius heard Mother Jondrette’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 Jondrette entered.

The dormer window permitted the entrance of a ray of moonlight between
two blocks of shadow. One of these blocks of shadow entirely covered the wall against
which Marius was leaning,so that he disappeared within it.

Mother Jondrette raised her eyes, did not see Marius, took the two
chairs, the only ones which Marius possessed, and went away, letting the door fall heavily
to 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 Jondrette was left alone.

He placed the two chairs on 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, and some large tools, veritable masses of iron, which were
mingled with the old iron piled up behind the door, had not been in the Jondrette hovel in
the morning, and had evidently been brought thither in the afternoon, during Marius’
absence.

“Those are the utensils of an edge-tool maker,” 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-tool maker, certain instruments
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.　

Jondrette 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 counsels of a sombre 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.

Jondrette 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.

图书介绍

Suddenly, the distant and melancholy vibration of a clock shook the
panes. Six o’clock was striking from Saint-Medard.

Jondrette 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, then he returned
to his chair.

He had hardly reseated himself when the door opened.

Mother Jondrette 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 Jondrette, rising hastily.

M. 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 requite it to you, my generous benefactor!” said
Jondrette.

And rapidly approaching his wife:–

“Dismiss the carriage!”

She slipped out while her husband was lavishing salutes and offering M.
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 fiacre had not been audible,and they did not now hear its
departure.

Meanwhile, M. Leblanc had seated himself.

Jondrette had taken possession of the other chair, facing M. 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 Salpetriere
covered with snow and white as winding-sheets in the moonlight, the taper-like 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
Gorbeau hovel, 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 Jondrette
garret lighted by a single candle, and in that den two men seated at a table, M. Leblanc
tranquil, Jondrette smiling and alarming, the Jondrette woman, the female wolf, in one
corner, and, behind the partition, Marius, invisible, erect, not losing a word, not
missing a single movement, his eye on the watch, and pistol in hand.

However, Marius experienced only an emotion of horror, but no fear. He
clasped the stock of the pistol firmly and felt reassured.”I shall be able 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
Jondrette and M. Leblanc would cast some light on all the things which he was interested
in learning.