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SOLUS CUM SOLO, IN LOCO REMOTO, NON COGITABUNTUR ORARE PATER
NOSTER
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 beautiful
maiden 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.
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