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IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE WORDS TO AN ENGLISH AIR WHICH WAS
IN FASHION IN 1832
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
himself that he was not the prey of a nightmare, he had to feel
the cold barrels of the steel pistols in his trousers pockets.
It was no longer snowing; the moon disengaged itself more
and more clearly from the mist, and its light, mingled with the
white reflection of the snow which had fallen, communicated to
the chamber a sort of twilight aspect.
There was a light in the Jondrette den.
Marius saw the hole in the wall shining with a reddish glow
which seemed bloody to him.
It was true that the light could not be produced by a candle.
However, there was not a sound in the Jondrette quarters, not
a soul was moving there, not a soul speaking, not a breath; the
silence was glacial and profound, and had it not been for that
light, he might have thought himself next door to a sepulchre.
Marius softly removed his boots and 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.
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