Les miserables (Abridged) - Victor Hugo [265]
These two men quietly talking while the snow was whirling about them in its fall made a picture which a policeman certainly would have observed, but which Marius hardly noticed.
Nevertheless, however mournful was the subject of his reflections, he could not help saying to himself that this prowler of the barrières with whom Jondrette was talking, resembled a certain Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, whom Courfeyrac had once pointed out to him, and who passed in the neighbourhood for a very dangerous night-wanderer. We have seen this man’s name in the preceding book. This Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, figured afterwards in several criminal trials, and has since become a celebrated scoundrel.
10 (11)
OFFERS OF SERVICE BY POVERTY TO GRIEF
MARIUS mounted the stairs of the old tenement with slow steps; just as he was going into his cell, he perceived in the hall behind him the elder Jondrette girl, who was following him. This girl was odious to his sight; it was she who had his five francs, it was too late to ask her for them, the cab was there no longer, the fiacre was far away. Moreover she would not give them back to him. As to questioning her about the address of the people who had just come, that was useless; it was plain that she did not know, since the letter signed Fabantou was addressed to the beneficent gentleman of the Church Saint Jacques du Haut Pas.
Marius went into his room and pushed to his door behind him.
It did not close; he turned and saw a hand holding the door partly open.
“What is it?” he asked, “who is there?”
It was the Jondrette girl.
“Is it you?” said Marius almost harshly, “you again? What do you want of me?”
She seemed thoughtful and did not look at him. She had lost the assurance which she had had in the morning. She did not come in but stopped in the dusky hall, where Marius perceived her through the half-open door.
“Come now, will you answer?” said Marius. “What is it you want of me?”
She raised her mournful eyes, in which a sort of faint light seemed to shine dimly, and said to him:
“Monsieur Marius, you look sad. What is the matter with you?”
“With me?”
“Yes, you.”
“There is nothing the matter with me.”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“I tell you there is!”
“Leave me alone!”
Marius pushed the door anew, she still held it back.
“Stop,” said she, “you are wrong. Though you may not be rich, you were good this morning. Be so again now. You gave me something to eat, tell me now what ails you. You are troubled at something, that is plain. I do not want you to be troubled. What must be done for that? Can I serve you in anything? Let me. I do not ask your secrets, you need not tell them to me, but yet I may be useful. I can certainly help you, since I help my father. When it is necessary to carry letters, go into houses, inquire from door to door, find out an address, follow somebody, I do it. Now, you can certainly tell me what is the matter with you. I will go and speak to the persons; sometimes for somebody to speak to the persons is enough to help them understand things, and everything works out. Make use of me.”
An idea came into Marius’ mind. What branch won’t we clutch when we feel ourselves falling?
He approached the girl.
“Listen,” said he to her, kindly.
She interrupted him with a flash of joy in her eyes.
“Oh! yes, say tu with me! I like that better.”
“Well,” resumed he, “you brought this old gentleman here with his daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know their address?”
“No.”
“Find it for me.”
The girl’s eyes, which had been gloomy, had become joyful; they now became dark.
“Is that what you want?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you know them?”
“No.”
“That is to say,” said she hastily, “you do not know her, but you want to know her.”
This them which had become her had an indescribable significance and bitterness.
“Well, can you do it?” said Marius.
“You shall have the beautiful young lady’s address.”
There was again, in these words “the beautiful young lady,” an expression which made Marius uneasy. He continued: