Meanwhile, the traveller had risen to his feet.







"What is the matter?" he said to the Thenardier.







"Don't you see?" said the Thenardier, pointing to the corpus delicti which lay at Cosette's feet.







"Well, what of it?" resumed the man.







"That beggar," replied the Thenardier, "has permitted herself to touch the children's doll!"







"All this noise for that!" said the man; "well, what if she did play with that doll?"







"She touched it with her dirty hands!" pursued the Thenardier, "with her frightful hands!"







Here Cosette redoubled her sobs.







"Will you stop your noise?" screamed the Thenardier.







The man went straight to the street door, opened it, and stepped out.







As soon as he had gone, the Thenardier profited by his absence to give Cosette a hearty kick under the table, which made the child utter loud cries.







The door opened again, the man re-appeared; he carried in both hands the fabulous doll which we have mentioned, and which all the village brats had been staring at ever since the morning, and he set it upright in front of Cosette, saying:--







"Here; this is for you."







It must be supposed that in the course of the hour and more which he had spent there he had taken confused notice through his revery of that toy shop, lighted up by fire-pots and candles so splendidly that it was visible like an illumination through the window of the drinking-shop.







Cosette raised her eyes; she gazed at the man approaching her with that doll as she might have gazed at the sun; she heard the unprecedented words, "It is for you"; she stared at him; she stared at the doll; then she slowly retreated, and hid herself at the extreme end, under the table in a corner of the wall.







She no longer cried; she no longer wept; she had the appearance of no longer daring to breathe.







The Thenardier, Eponine, and Azelma were like statues also; the very drinkers had paused; a solemn silence reigned through the whole room.







Madame Thenardier, petrified and mute, recommenced her conjectures: "Who is that old fellow? Is he a poor man? Is he a millionaire? Perhaps he is both; that is to say, a thief."







The face of the male Thenardier presented that expressive fold which accentuates the human countenance whenever the dominant instinct appears there in all its bestial force. The tavern-keeper stared alternately at the doll and at the traveller; he seemed to be scenting out the man, as he would have scented out a bag of money. This did not last longer than the space of a flash of lightning. He stepped up to his wife and said to her in a low voice:--







"That machine costs at least thirty francs. No nonsense. Down on your belly before that man!"







Gross natures have this in common with naive natures, that they possess no transition state.







"Well, Cosette," said the Thenardier, in a voice that strove to be sweet, and which was composed of the bitter honey of malicious women, "aren't you going to take your doll?"







Cosette ventured to emerge from her hole.







"The gentleman has given you a doll, my little Cosette," said Thenardier, with a caressing air. "Take it; it is yours."







Cosette gazed at the marvellous doll in a sort of terror. Her face was still flooded with tears, but her eyes began to fill, like the sky at daybreak, with strange beams of joy. What she felt at that moment was a little like what she would have felt if she had been abruptly told, "Little one, you are the Queen of France."







It seemed to her that if she touched that doll, lightning would dart from it.







This was true, up to a certain point, for she said to herself that the Thenardier would scold and beat her.







Nevertheless, the attraction carried the day. She ended by drawing near and murmuring timidly as she turned towards Madame Thenardier:--







"May I, Madame?"







No words can render that air, at once despairing, terrified, and ecstatic.







"Pardi!" cried the Thenardier, "it is yours. The gentleman has given it to you."







"Truly, sir?" said Cosette. "Is it true? Is the `lady' mine?"







The stranger's eyes seemed to be full of tears. He appeared to have reached that point of emotion where a man does not speak for fear lest he should weep. He nodded to Cosette, and placed the "lady's" hand in her tiny hand.







Cosette hastily withdrew her hand, as though that of the "lady" scorched her, and began to stare at the floor. We are forced to add that at that moment she stuck out her tongue immoderately. All at once she wheeled round and seized the doll in a transport.







"I shall call her Catherine," she said.







It was an odd moment when Cosette's rags met and clasped the ribbons and fresh pink muslins of the doll.







"Madame," she resumed, "may I put her on a chair?"







"Yes, my child," replied the Thenardier.







It was now the turn of Eponine and Azelma to gaze at Cosette with envy.







Cosette placed Catherine on a chair, then seated herself on the floor in front of her, and remained motionless, without uttering a word, in an attitude of contemplation.







"Play, Cosette," said the stranger.







"Oh! I am playing," returned the child.







This stranger, this unknown individual, who had the air of a visit which Providence was making on Cosette, was the person whom the Thenardier hated worse than any one in the world at that moment. However, it was necessary to control herself. Habituated as she was to dissimulation through endeavoring to copy her husband in all his actions, these emotions were more than she could endure. She made haste to send her daughters to bed, then she asked the man's permission to send Cosette off also; "for she has worked hard all day," she added with a maternal air. Cosette went off to bed, carrying Catherine in her arms.







From time to time the Thenardier went to the other end of the room where her husband was, to relieve her soul, as she said. She exchanged with her husband words which were all the more furious because she dared not utter them aloud.







"Old beast! What has he got in his belly, to come and upset us in this manner! To want that little monster to play! to give away forty-franc dolls to a jade that I would sell for forty sous, so I would! A little more and he will be saying Your Majesty to her, as though to the Duchess de Berry! Is there any sense in it? Is he mad, then, that mysterious old fellow?"







"Why! it is perfectly simple," replied Thenardier, "if that amuses him! It amuses you to have the little one work; it amuses him to have her play. He's all right. A traveller can do what he pleases when he pays for it. If the old fellow is a philanthropist, what is that to you? If he is an imbecile, it does not concern you. What are you worrying for, so long as he has money?"







The language of a master, and the reasoning of an innkeeper, neither of which admitted of any reply.







The man had placed his elbows on the table, and resumed his thoughtful attitude. All the other travellers, both pedlers and carters, had withdrawn a little, and had ceased singing. They were staring at him from a distance, with a sort of respectful awe. This poorly dressed man, who drew "hind-wheels" from his pocket with so much ease, and who lavished gigantic dolls on dirty little brats in wooden shoes, was certainly a magnificent fellow, and one to be feared.







Many hours passed. The midnight mass was over, the chimes had ceased, the drinkers had taken their departure, the drinking-shop was closed, the public room was deserted, the fire extinct, the stranger still remained in the same place and the same attitude. From time to time he changed the elbow on which he leaned. That was all; but he had not said a word since Cosette had left the room.







The Thenardiers alone, out of politeness and curiosity, had remained in the room.







"Is he going to pass the night in that fashion?" grumbled the Thenardier. When two o'clock in the morning struck, she declared herself vanquished, and said to her husband, "I'm going to bed. Do as you like." Her husband seated himself at a table in the corner, lighted a candle, and began to read the Courrier Francais.







A good hour passed thus. The worthy inn-keeper had perused the Courrier Francais at least three times, from the date of the number to the printer's name. The stranger did not stir.







Thenardier fidgeted, coughed, spit, blew his nose, and creaked his chair. Not a movement on the man's part. "Is he asleep?" thought Thenardier. The man was not asleep, but nothing could arouse him.







At last Thenardier took off his cap, stepped gently up to him, and ventured to say:--







"Is not Monsieur going to his repose?"







Not going to bed would have seemed to him excessive and familiar. To repose smacked of luxury and respect. These words possess the mysterious and admirable property of swelling the bill on the following day. A chamber where one sleeps costs twenty sous; a chamber in which one reposes costs twenty francs.







"Well!" said the stranger, "you are right. Where is your stable?"







"Sir!" exclaimed Thenardier, with a smile, "I will conduct you, sir."







He took the candle; the man picked up his bundle and cudgel, and Thenardier conducted him to a chamber on the first floor, which was of rare splendor, all furnished in mahogany, with a low bedstead, curtained with red calico.







"What is this?" said the traveller.







"It is really our bridalchamber," said the tavern-keeper. "My wife and I occupy another. This is only entered three or four times a year."







"I should have liked the stable quite as well," said the man, abruptly.







Thenardier pretended not to hear this unamiable remark.







He lighted two perfectly fresh wax candles which figured on the chimney-piece. A very good fire was flickering on the hearth.







On the chimney-piece, under a glass globe, stood a woman's head-dress in silver wire and orange flowers.







"And what is this?" resumed the stranger.







"That, sir," said Thenardier, "is my wife's wedding bonnet."







The traveller surveyed the object with a glance which seemed to say, "There really was a time, then, when that monster was a maiden?"







Thenardier lied, however. When he had leased this paltry building for the purpose of converting it into a tavern, he had found this chamber decorated in just this manner, and had purchased the furniture and obtained the orange flowers at second hand, with the idea that this would cast a graceful shadow on "his spouse," and would result in what the English call respectability for his house.







When the traveller turned round, the host had disappeared. Thenardier had withdrawn discreetly, without venturing to wish him a good night, as he did not wish to treat with disrespectful cordiality a man whom he proposed to fleece royally the following morning.







The inn-keeper retired to his room. His wife was in bed, but she was not asleep. When she heard her husband's step she turned over and said to him:--







"Do you know, I'm going to turn Cosette out of doors to-morrow."







Thenardier replied coldly:--







"How you do go on!"







They exchanged no further words, and a few moments later their candle was extinguished.







As for the traveller, he had deposited his cudgel and his bundle in a corner. The landlord once gone, he threw himself into an arm-chair and remained for some time buried in thought. Then he removed his shoes, took one of the two candles, blew out the other, opened the door, and quitted the room, gazing about him like a person who is in search of something. He traversed a corridor and came upon a staircase. There he heard a very faint and gentle sound like the breathing of a child. He followed this sound, and came to a sort of triangularrecess built under the staircase, or rather formed by the staircase itself. This recess was nothing else than the space under the steps. There, in the midst of all sorts of old papers and potsherds, among dust and spiders' webs, was a bed--if one can call by the name of bed a straw pallet so full of holes as to display the straw, and a coverlet so tattered as to show the pallet. No sheets. This was placed on the floor.







In this bed Cosette was sleeping.







The man approached and gazed down upon her.







Cosette was in a profound sleep; she was fully dressed. In the winter she did not undress, in order that she might not be so cold.







Against her breast was pressed the doll, whose large eyes, wide open, glittered in the dark. From time to time she gave vent to a deep sigh as though she were on the point of waking, and she strained the doll almost convulsively in her arms. Beside her bed there was only one of her wooden shoes.







A door which stood open near Cosette's pallet permitted a view of a rather large, dark room. The stranger stepped into it. At the further extremity, through a glass door, he saw two small, very white beds. They belonged to Eponine and Azelma. Behind these beds, and half hidden, stood an uncurtained wicker cradle, in which the little boy who had cried all the evening lay asleep.







The stranger conjectured that this chamber connected with that of the Thenardier pair. He was on the point of retreating when his eye fell upon the fireplace--one of those vast tavern chimneys where there is always so little fire when there is any fire at all, and which are so cold to look at. There was no fire in this one, there was not even ashes; but there was something which attracted the stranger's gaze, nevertheless. It was two tiny children's shoes, coquettish in shape and unequal in size. The traveller recalled the graceful and immemorial custom in accordance with which children place their shoes in the chimney on Christmas eve, there to await in the darkness some sparkling gift from their good fairy. Eponine and Azelma had taken care not to omit this, and each of them had set one of her shoes on the hearth.







The traveller bent over them.







The fairy, that is to say, their mother, had already paid her visit, and in each he saw a brand-new and shining ten-sou piece.







The man straightened himself up, and was on the point of withdrawing, when far in, in the darkest corner of the hearth, he caught sight of another object. He looked at it, and recognized a wooden shoe, a frightful shoe of the coarsest description, half dilapidated and all covered with ashes and dried mud. It was Cosette's sabot. Cosette, with that touching trust of childhood, which can always be deceived yet never discouraged, had placed her shoe on the hearth-stone also.







Hope in a child who has never known anything but despair is a sweet and touching thing.







There was nothing in this wooden shoe.







The stranger fumbled in his waistcoat, bent over and placed a louis d'or in Cosette's shoe.







Then he regained his own chamber with the stealthy tread of a wolf.











八　接待一个也许是有钱的穷人的麻烦



















那个大娃娃还一直摆在玩具店里，珂赛特经过那地方，不能不斜着眼睛再瞅它一下，瞅过后她才敲门。门开了。德纳第大娘端着一支蜡烛走出来。







"啊！是你这个小化子！谢谢天主，你去了多少时间！你玩够了吧，小贱货！"







"太太，"珂赛特浑身发抖地说，"有位先生来过夜。"







德纳第大娘的怒容立即变成了笑脸，这是客店老板们特有的机变，她连忙睁眼去找那新来的客人。







"是这位先生吗？"她说。







"是，太太。"那人一面举手到帽边，一面回答。







有钱的客人不会这么客气。德纳第大娘一眼望见他那手势和他的服装行李，又立即收起了那副笑容，重行摆出她生气的面孔。她冷冰冰地说：







"进来吧，汉子。"







"汉子"进来了。德纳第大娘又重新望了他一眼，特别注意到他那件很旧的大衣和他那顶有点破的帽子，她对她那位一直陪着车夫们喝酒的丈夫点头，皱鼻，眨眼，征求他的意见。她丈夫微微地摇了摇食指，努了努嘴唇，这意思就是说：完全是个穷光蛋。于是，德纳第大娘提高了嗓子说：







"喂！老头儿，对不起，我这儿已经没有地方了。""请您随便把我安置在什么地方，"那人说，"顶楼上，马棚里，都可以。我仍按一间屋子付账。"







"四十个苏。"







"四十个苏，可以。"







"好吧。"







"四十个苏！"一个赶车的对德纳第大娘细声说，"不是二十就够了吗？"







"对他是四十个苏，"德纳第大娘用原来的口吻回答说，"穷人来住，更不能少给呀！"







"这是真话，"她丈夫斯斯文文地补上一句，"在家接待这种人，算是够倒霉的了。"







这时，那人已把他的包袱和棍子放在板凳上，继又靠近一张桌子坐下来，珂赛特也赶忙摆上了一瓶葡萄酒和一只玻璃杯。那个先头要水的商人亲自提了水桶去喂马。珂赛特也回到她那切菜桌子下面，坐下去打毛活。







那人替自己斟上了一杯酒，刚刚送到嘴边，他已带着一种奇特的神情，留心观察那孩子。







珂赛特的相貌丑。假使她快乐，也许会漂亮些。我们已经约略描绘过这个沉郁的小人儿的形象。珂赛特体瘦面黄，她已快满八岁，但看上去还以为是个六岁的孩子。两只大眼睛深深隐在一层阴影里，已经失去光彩，这是由于经常哭的原故。她嘴角的弧线显示出长时期内心的痛苦，使人想起那些待决的囚犯和自知无救的病人。她的手，正如她母亲猜想过的那样，已经"断送在冻疮里了"。当时炉里的火正照着她，使她身上的骨头显得格外突出，显得她瘦到令人心酸。由于她经常冷到发抖，她已有了紧紧靠拢两个膝头的习惯。她所有的衣服只是一身破布，夏季见到会使人感到可怜，冬季使人感到难受。她身上只有一件满是窟窿的布衣，绝无一寸毛织物。到处都露出她的肉，全身都能看到德纳第婆娘打出来的青块和黑块。两条光腿，又红又细。锁骨的窝使人见了心痛。那孩子，从头到脚，她的态度，她的神情，说话的声音，说话的迟钝，看人的神气，见了人不说话，一举一动，都只表现和透露了一种心情：恐惧。







恐惧笼罩着她，我们可以说，她被恐惧围困了，恐惧使她的两肘紧缩在腰旁，使她的脚跟紧缩在裙下，使她尽量少占地方，尽量少吸不必要的空气，那种恐惧可以说已经变成她的常态，除了有增无减以外，没有其他别的变化。在她眸子的一角有着惊惶不定的神色，那便是恐怖藏身的地方。







珂赛特的恐惧心情竟达到了这样一种程度：她回到家里，浑身透湿，却不敢到火旁去烤干衣服，而只是一声不响地走去干她的活。







这个八岁孩子的眼神常是那么愁闷，有时还那么凄楚，以致某些时刻，她看起来好象正在变成一个白痴或是一个妖怪。







我们已经说过，她从来不知道祈祷是怎么回事，她也从不曾踏进礼拜堂的大门。"我还有那种闲空吗？"德纳第大娘常这么说。







那个穿黄大衣的人一直望着珂赛特，眼睛不曾离开过她。







德纳第大娘忽然喊道：







"我想起了！面包呢？"







珂赛特每次听到德纳第大娘提高了嗓子，总赶忙从那桌子下面钻出来，现在她也照例赶忙钻了出来。







她早已把那面包忘到一干二净了。她只得采用那些经常在惊骇中度日的孩子的应付办法：撒谎。







"太太，面包店已经关了门。"







"你应当敲门呀。"







"我敲过了，太太。"







"敲后怎么样呢？"







"他不开。"







"是真是假，我明天会知道的，"德纳第大娘说，"要是你说谎，看我不抽到你乱蹦乱跳。等着，先把那十五个苏还来。"







珂赛特把她的手插到围裙袋里，脸色变得铁青。那个值十五个苏的钱已经不在了。







"怎么回事！"德纳第大娘说，"你听到我的话没有？"







珂赛特把那口袋翻过来看，什么也没有。那钱到什么地方去了呢？可怜的孩子一句话也说不出来。她吓呆了。







"那十五个苏你丢了吗？"德纳第大娘暴跳如雷，"还是你想骗我的钱？"







同时她伸手去取挂在壁炉边的那条皮鞭。







这一骇人的姿势使珂赛特叫喊得很响：







"饶了我！太太！太太！我不敢了。"







德纳第大娘已经取下了那条皮鞭。







这时，那个穿黄大衣的人在他背心的口袋里掏了一下，别人都没有看见他这一动作，其他的客人都正在喝酒或是玩纸牌，什么也没有注意到。







珂赛特，心惊肉跳，蜷缩在壁炉角落里，只想把她那露在短袖短裙外的肢体藏起来。德纳第大娘举起了胳膊。"对不起，大嫂，"那人说"刚才我看见有个东西从小姑娘的围裙袋里掉出来，在地上滚。也许就是那钱了。"







同时他弯下腰，好象在地上找了一阵。







"没错，在这儿了。"他立起来说。







他把一枚银币递给德纳第大娘。







"对，就是它。"她说。