Les Misérables, page 198
CHAPTER II--LUX FACTA EST
During the second year, precisely at the point in this history which thereader has now reached, it chanced that this habit of the Luxembourg wasinterrupted, without Marius himself being quite aware why, and nearlysix months elapsed, during which he did not set foot in the alley. Oneday, at last, he returned thither once more; it was a serene summermorning, and Marius was in joyous mood, as one is when the weather isfine. It seemed to him that he had in his heart all the songs of thebirds that he was listening to, and all the bits of blue sky of which hecaught glimpses through the leaves of the trees.
He went straight to "his alley," and when he reached the end of it heperceived, still on the same bench, that well-known couple. Only, whenhe approached, it certainly was the same man; but it seemed to him thatit was no longer the same girl. The person whom he now beheld was a talland beautiful creature, possessed of all the most charming lines of awoman at the precise moment when they are still combined with all themost ingenuous graces of the child; a pure and fugitive moment, whichcan be expressed only by these two words,--"fifteen years." She hadwonderful brown hair, shaded with threads of gold, a brow that seemedmade of marble, cheeks that seemed made of rose-leaf, a pale flush,an agitated whiteness, an exquisite mouth, whence smiles darted likesunbeams, and words like music, a head such as Raphael would have givento Mary, set upon a neck that Jean Goujon would have attributed to aVenus. And, in order that nothing might be lacking to this bewitchingface, her nose was not handsome--it was pretty; neither straight norcurved, neither Italian nor Greek; it was the Parisian nose, that isto say, spiritual, delicate, irregular, pure,--which drives painters todespair, and charms poets.
When Marius passed near her, he could not see her eyes, which wereconstantly lowered. He saw only her long chestnut lashes, permeated withshadow and modesty.
This did not prevent the beautiful child from smiling as she listenedto what the white-haired old man was saying to her, and nothing couldbe more fascinating than that fresh smile, combined with those droopingeyes.
For a moment, Marius thought that she was another daughter of the sameman, a sister of the former, no doubt. But when the invariable habit ofhis stroll brought him, for the second time, near the bench, and he hadexamined her attentively, he recognized her as the same. In six monthsthe little girl had become a young maiden; that was all. Nothing is morefrequent than this phenomenon. There is a moment when girls blossom outin the twinkling of an eye, and become roses all at once. One leftthem children but yesterday; today, one finds them disquieting to thefeelings.
This child had not only grown, she had become idealized. As three daysin April suffice to cover certain trees with flowers, six months hadsufficed to clothe her with beauty. Her April had arrived.
One sometimes sees people, who, poor and mean, seem to wake up, passsuddenly from indigence to luxury, indulge in expenditures of all sorts,and become dazzling, prodigal, magnificent, all of a sudden. That isthe result of having pocketed an income; a note fell due yesterday. Theyoung girl had received her quarterly income.
And then, she was no longer the school-girl with her felt hat, hermerino gown, her scholar's shoes, and red hands; taste had come to herwith beauty; she was a well-dressed person, clad with a sort of richand simple elegance, and without affectation. She wore a dress of blackdamask, a cape of the same material, and a bonnet of white crape. Herwhite gloves displayed the delicacy of the hand which toyed with thecarved, Chinese ivory handle of a parasol, and her silken shoe outlinedthe smallness of her foot. When one passed near her, her whole toiletteexhaled a youthful and penetrating perfume.
As for the man, he was the same as usual.
The second time that Marius approached her, the young girl raised hereyelids; her eyes were of a deep, celestial blue, but in that veiledazure, there was, as yet, nothing but the glance of a child. She lookedat Marius indifferently, as she would have stared at the brat runningbeneath the sycamores, or the marble vase which cast a shadow on thebench, and Marius, on his side, continued his promenade, and thoughtabout something else.
He passed near the bench where the young girl sat, five or six times,but without even turning his eyes in her direction.
On the following days, he returned, as was his wont, to the Luxembourg;as usual, he found there "the father and daughter;" but he paid nofurther attention to them. He thought no more about the girl now thatshe was beautiful than he had when she was homely. He passed very nearthe bench where she sat, because such was his habit.
