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JONDRETTE MAKES HIS PURCHASES
A few moments later, about three o'clock, Courfeyrac chanced
to be passing along the Rue Mouffetard in company with Bossuet.
The snow had redoubled in violence, and filled the air.
Bossuet was just saying to Courfeyrac:--
"One would say, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that
there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven."
All at once, Bossuet caught sight of Marius coming up the
street towards the barrier with a peculiar air.
"Hold!" said Bossuet.
"There's Marius."
"I saw him," said Courfeyrac.
"Don't let's speak to him."
"Why?"
"He is busy."
"With what?"
"Don't you see his air?"
"What air?"
"He has the air of a man who is following some one."
"That's true," said Bossuet.
"Just see the eyes he is making!" said Courfeyrac.
"But who the deuce is he following?"
"Some fine, flowery bonneted wench!
He's in love."
"But," observed Bossuet, "I don't see any wench
nor any flowery bonnet in the street.
There's not a woman round."
Courfeyrac took a survey, and exclaimed:--
"He's following a man!"
A man, in fact, wearing a gray cap, and whose gray beard could
be distinguished, although they only saw his back, was walking
along about twenty paces in advance of Marius.
This man was dressed in a great-coat which was perfectly new
and too large for him, and in a frightful pair of trousers all
hanging in rags and black with mud.
Bossuet burst out laughing.
"Who is that man?"
"He?" retorted Courfeyrac, "he's a poet.
Poets are very fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in
rabbit skins and the overcoats of peers of France."
"Let's see where Marius will go," said Bossuet;
"let's see where the man is going, let's follow them, hey?"
"Bossuet!" exclaimed Courfeyrac, "eagle of
Meaux!
You are a prodigious brute.
Follow a man who is following another man, indeed!"
They retraced their steps.
Marius had, in fact, seen Jondrette passing along the Rue
Mouffetard, and was spying on his proceedings.
Jondrette walked straight ahead, without a suspicion that
he was already held by a glance.
He quitted the Rue Mouffetard, and Marius saw him enter one
of the most terrible hovels in the Rue Gracieuse; he remained
there about a quarter of an hour, then returned to the Rue Mouffetard.
He halted at an ironmonger's shop, which then stood at the corner
of the Rue Pierre-Lombard, and a few minutes later Marius saw
him emerge from the shop, holding in his hand a huge cold chisel
with a white wood handle, which he concealed beneath his great-coat.
At the top of the Rue Petit-Gentilly he turned to the left and
proceeded rapidly to the Rue du Petit-Banquier. The day was declining;
the snow, which had ceased for a moment, had just begun again.
Marius posted himself on the watch at the very corner of the Rue
du Petit-Banquier, which was deserted, as usual, and did not follow
Jondrette into it.
It was lucky that he did so, for, on arriving in the vicinity
of the wall where Marius had heard the long-haired man and the
bearded man conversing, Jondrette turned round, made sure that
no one was following him, did not see him, then sprang across
the wall and disappeared.
The waste land bordered by this wall communicated with the
back yard of an ex-livery stable-keeper of bad repute, who had
failed and who still kept a few old single-seated berlins under
his sheds.
Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by Jondrette's
absence to return home; moreover, it was growing late; every evening,
Ma'am Bougon when she set out for her dish-washing in town, had
a habit of locking the door, which was always closed at dusk.
Marius had given his key to the inspector of police; it was important,
therefore, that he should make haste.
Evening had arrived, night had almost closed in; on the horizon
and in the immensity of space, there remained but one spot illuminated
by the sun, and that was the moon.
It was rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome of Salpetriere.
Marius returned to No. 50-52 with great strides.
The door was still open when he arrived.
He mounted the stairs on tip-toe and glided along the wall
of the corridor to his chamber.
This corridor, as the reader will remember, was bordered on
both sides by attics, all of which were, for the moment, empty
and to let.
Ma'am Bougon was in the habit of leaving all the doors open.
As he passed one of these attics, Marius thought he perceived
in the uninhabited cell the motionless heads of four men, vaguely
lighted up by a remnant of daylight, falling through a dormer
window,
Marius made no attempt to see, not wishing to be seen himself.
He succeeded in reaching his chamber without being seen and without
making any noise.
It was high time.
A moment later he heard Ma'am Bougon take her departure, locking
the door of the house behind her.
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