Les miserables (Abridged) - Victor Hugo [452]
The scent, the mysterious aid-memory, revived a whole world within him. Here was the very paper, the manner of folding, the paleness of the ink; here was, indeed, the well-known handwriting; above all, here was the tobacco. The Jondrette garret appeared before him.
Thus, strange freak of chance! one of the two traces which he had sought so long, the one which he had again recently made so many efforts to find, and which he believed forever lost, came of itself to him.
He broke the seal eagerly, and read:
“Monsieur Baron,—If the Supreme Being had given me the talents for it, I could have been Baron Tb6nard, member of the Institute (Academy of Ciences), but I am not so. I merely bear the same name that he does, happy if this remembrance commends me to the excellence of your bounties. The benefit with which you honour me will be reciprocal. I am in possession of a secret conserning an individual. This individual con sems you. I hold the secret at your disposition, desiring to have the honour of being yuseful to you. I will give you the simple means of drivving from your honourable family this individual who has no right in it, Madame the Baroness being of high birth. The sanctuary of virtue could not coabit longer with crime without abdicating.
“I attend in the entichamber the orders of Monsieur the Baron. With respect.”
The letter was signed “THÉNARD.”
This signature was not a false one. It was only a little abridged.
Besides the rigmarole and the orthography completed the revelation. The certificate of origin was perfect. There was no doubt possible.
The emotion of Marius was deep. After the feeling of surprise, he had a feeling of happiness. Let him now find the other man whom he sought, the man who had saved him, Marius, and he would have nothing more to wish.
He opened one of his secretary drawers, took out some bank-notes, put them in his pockets, closed the secretary, and rang. Basque appeared.
“Show him in,” said Marius.
Basque announced:
“Monsieur Thénard.”
A man entered.
A new surprise for Marius. The man who came in was perfectly unknown to him.
This man, old withal, had a large nose, his chin in his cravat, green spectacles, with double shade of green silk over his eyes, his hair polished and smoothed down, his forehead close to the eyebrows, like the wigs of English coachmen in high life. His hair was grey. He was dressed in black from head to foot, in a well worn but tidy black; a bunch of trinkets, hanging from his fob, suggested a watch. He held an old hat in his hand. He walked with a stoop, and the crook of his back increased the lowliness of his bow.
Hugo describes “an ingenious Jew” known as The Changer, who rents an elaborate selection of disguises and uniforms that can give a criminal the appearance of an honest and even distinguished person.
Marius’ disappointment, on seeing another man enter than the one he was expecting, turned into dislike towards the new-comer. He examined him from head to foot, while the personage bowed without measure, and asked him in a sharp tone:
“What do you want?”
The man answered with an amiable grin of which the caressing smile of a crocodile would give some idea:
“It seems to me impossible that I have not already had the honour of seeing Monsieur the Baron in society. I really think that I met him privately some years ago, at Madame the Princess Bagration’s and in the salons of his lordship the Viscount Dambray, peer of France.”
It is always good tactics in rascality to pretend to recognise one whom you do not know.
Marius listened attentively to the voice of this man. He watched for the tone and gesture eagerly, but his disappointment increased; it was a whining pronunciation, entirely different from the sharp and dry sound of the voice which he expected.