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HE WHO SEEKS TO BETTER HIMSELF MAY RENDER HIS SITUATION WORSE
Madame Thenardier had allowed her husband to have his own
way, as was her wont.
She had expected great results.
When the man and Cosette had taken their departure, Thenardier
allowed a full quarter of an hour to elapse; then he took her
aside and showed her the fifteen hundred francs.
"Is that all?" said she.
It was the first time since they had set up housekeeping that
she had dared to criticise one of the master's acts.
The blow told.
"You are right, in sooth," said he; "I am a
fool.
Give me my hat."
He folded up the three bank-bills, thrust them into his pocket,
and ran out in all haste; but he made a mistake and turned to
the right first. Some neighbors, of whom he made inquiries, put
him on the track again; the Lark and the man had been seen going
in the direction of Livry. He followed these hints, walking with
great strides, and talking to himself the while:--
"That man is evidently a million dressed in yellow, and
I am an animal. First he gave twenty sous, then five francs, then
fifty francs, then fifteen hundred francs, all with equal readiness.
He would have given fifteen thousand francs.
But I shall overtake him."
And then, that bundle of clothes prepared beforehand for the
child; all that was singular; many mysteries lay concealed under
it. One does not let mysteries out of one's hand when one has
once grasped them.
The secrets of the wealthy are sponges of gold; one must know
how to subject them to pressure.
All these thoughts whirled through his brain.
"I am an animal," said he.
When one leaves Montfermeil and reaches the turn which the
road takes that runs to Livry, it can be seen stretching out before
one to a great distance across the plateau.
On arriving there, he calculated that he ought to be able
to see the old man and the child.
He looked as far as his vision reached, and saw nothing. He
made fresh inquiries, but he had wasted time.
Some passers-by informed him that the man and child of whom
he was in search had gone towards the forest in the direction
of Gagny.
He hastened in that direction.
They were far in advance of him; but a child walks slowly,
and he walked fast; and then, he was well acquainted with the
country.
All at once he paused and dealt himself a blow on his forehead
like a man who has forgotten some essential point and who is ready
to retrace his steps.
"I ought to have taken my gun," said he to himself.
Thenardier was one of those double natures which sometimes
pass through our midst without our being aware of the fact, and
who disappear without our finding them out, because destiny has
only exhibited one side of them.
It is the fate of many men to live thus half submerged.
In a calm and even situation, Thenardier possessed all that
is required to make--we will not say to be-- what people have
agreed to call an honest trader, a good bourgeois. At the same
time certain circumstances being given, certain shocks arriving
to bring his under-nature to the surface, he had all the requisites
for a blackguard.
He was a shopkeeper in whom there was some taint of the monster.
Satan must have occasionally crouched down in some corner
of the hovel in which Thenardier dwelt, and have fallen a-dreaming
in the presence of this hideous masterpiece.
After a momentary hesitation:--
"Bah!" he thought; "they will have time to
make their escape."
And he pursued his road, walking rapidly straight ahead, and
with almost an air of certainty, with the sagacity of a fox scenting
a covey of partridges.
In truth, when he had passed the ponds and had traversed in
an oblique direction the large clearing which lies on the right
of the Avenue de Bellevue, and reached that turf alley which nearly
makes the circuit of the hill, and covers the arch of the ancient
aqueduct of the Abbey of Chelles, he caught sight, over the top
of the brushwood, of the hat on which he had already erected so
many conjectures; it was that man's hat.
The brushwood was not high.
Thenardier recognized the fact that the man and Cosette were
sitting there.
The child could not be seen on account of her small size,
but the head of her doll was visible.
Thenardier was not mistaken.
The man was sitting there, and letting Cosette get somewhat
rested.
The inn-keeper walked round the brushwood and presented himself
abruptly to the eyes of those whom he was in search of.
"Pardon, excuse me, sir," he said, quite breathless,
"but here are your fifteen hundred francs."
So saying, he handed the stranger the three bank-bills.
The man raised his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Thenardier replied respectfully:--
"It means, sir, that I shall take back Cosette."
Cosette shuddered, and pressed close to the old man.
He replied, gazing to the very bottom of Thenardier's eyes
the while, and enunciating every syllable distinctly:--
"You are go-ing to take back Co-sette?"
"Yes, sir, I am.
I will tell you; I have considered the matter. In fact, I
have not the right to give her to you.
I am an honest man, you see; this child does not belong to
me; she belongs to her mother. It was her mother who confided
her to me; I can only resign her to her mother.
You will say to me, `But her mother is dead.' Good; in that
case I can only give the child up to the person who shall bring
me a writing, signed by her mother, to the effect that I am to
hand the child over to the person therein mentioned; that is clear."
The man, without making any reply, fumbled in his pocket,
and Thenardier beheld the pocket-book of bank-bills make its appearance
once more.
The tavern-keeper shivered with joy.
"Good!" thought he; "let us hold firm; he is
going to bribe me!"
Before opening the pocket-book, the traveller cast a glance
about him: the spot was absolutely deserted; there was not a soul
either in the woods or in the valley.
The man opened his pocket-book once more and drew from it,
not the handful of bills which Thenardier expected, but a simple
little paper, which he unfolded and presented fully open to the
inn-keeper, saying:--
"You are right; read!"
Thenardier took the paper and read:--
"M. SUR M., March 25, 1823.
"MONSIEUR THENARDIER:--
You will deliver Cosette to this person.
You will be paid for all the little things.
I have the honor to salute you with respect,
FANTINE."
"You know that signature?" resumed the man.
It certainly was Fantine's signature; Thenardier recognized
it.
There was no reply to make; he experienced two violent vexations,
the vexation of renouncing the bribery which he had hoped for,
and the vexation of being beaten; the man added:--
"You may keep this paper as your receipt."
Thenardier retreated in tolerably good order.
"This signature is fairly well imitated," he growled
between his teeth; "however, let it go!"
Then he essayed a desperate effort.
"It is well, sir," he said, "since you are
the person, but I must be paid for all those little things.
A great deal is owing to me."
The man rose to his feet, filliping the dust from his thread-bare
sleeve:--
"Monsieur Thenardier, in January last, the mother reckoned
that she owed you one hundred and twenty francs.
In February, you sent her a bill of five hundred francs; you
received three hundred francs at the end of February, and three
hundred francs at the beginning of March. Since then nine months
have elapsed, at fifteen francs a month, the price agreed upon,
which makes one hundred and thirty-five francs. You had received
one hundred francs too much; that makes thirty-five still owing
you.
I have just given you fifteen hundred francs."
Thenardier's sensations were those of the wolf at the moment
when he feels himself nipped and seized by the steel jaw of the
trap.
"Who is this devil of a man?" he thought.
He did what the wolf does:
he shook himself.
Audacity had succeeded with him once.
"Monsieur-I-don't-know-your-name," he said resolutely,
and this time casting aside all respectful ceremony, "I shall
take back Cosette if you do not give me a thousand crowns."
The stranger said tranquilly:--
"Come, Cosette."
He took Cosette by his left hand, and with his right he picked
up his cudgel, which was lying on the ground.
Thenardier noted the enormous size of the cudgel and the solitude
of the spot.
The man plunged into the forest with the child, leaving the
inn-keeper motionless and speechless.
While they were walking away, Thenardier scrutinized his huge
shoulders, which were a little rounded, and his great fists.
Then, bringing his eyes back to his own person, they fell
upon his feeble arms and his thin hands.
"I really must have been exceedingly stupid not to have
thought to bring my gun," he said to himself, "since
I was going hunting!"
However, the inn-keeper did not give up.
"I want to know where he is going," said he, and
he set out to follow them at a distance.
Two things were left on his hands, an irony in the shape of
the paper signed Fantine, and a consolation, the fifteen hundred
francs.
The man led Cosette off in the direction of Livry and Bondy.
He walked slowly, with drooping head, in an attitude of reflection
and sadness.
The winter had thinned out the forest, so that Thenardier
did not lose them from sight, although he kept at a good distance.
The man turned round from time to time, and looked to see if he
was being followed.
All at once he caught sight of Thenardier. He plunged suddenly
into the brushwood with Cosette, where they could both hide themselves.
"The deuce!" said Thenardier, and he redoubled his
pace.
The thickness of the undergrowth forced him to draw nearer
to them. When the man had reached the densest part of the thicket,
he wheeled round.
It was in vain that Thenardier sought to conceal himself in
the branches; he could not prevent the man seeing him. The man
cast upon him an uneasy glance, then elevated his head and continued
his course.
The inn-keeper set out again in pursuit. Thus they continued
for two or three hundred paces.
All at once the man turned round once more; he saw the inn-keeper.
This time he gazed at him with so sombre an air that Thenardier
decided that it was "useless" to proceed further.
Thenardier retraced his steps.
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