Les Misérables, page 200
CHAPTER IV--BEGINNING OF A GREAT MALADY
On the following day, at the accustomed hour, Marius drew from hiswardrobe his new coat, his new trousers, his new hat, and his newboots; he clothed himself in this complete panoply, put on his gloves, atremendous luxury, and set off for the Luxembourg.
On the way thither, he encountered Courfeyrac, and pretended not to seehim. Courfeyrac, on his return home, said to his friends:--
"I have just met Marius' new hat and new coat, with Marius insidethem. He was going to pass an examination, no doubt. He looked utterlystupid."
On arriving at the Luxembourg, Marius made the tour of the fountainbasin, and stared at the swans; then he remained for a long time incontemplation before a statue whose head was perfectly black with mould,and one of whose hips was missing. Near the basin there was a bourgeoisforty years of age, with a prominent stomach, who was holding by thehand a little urchin of five, and saying to him: "Shun excess, my son,keep at an equal distance from despotism and from anarchy." Mariuslistened to this bourgeois. Then he made the circuit of the basin oncemore. At last he directed his course towards "his alley," slowly, and asif with regret. One would have said that he was both forced to go thereand withheld from doing so. He did not perceive it himself, and thoughtthat he was doing as he always did.
On turning into the walk, he saw M. Leblanc and the young girl at theother end, "on their bench." He buttoned his coat up to the very top,pulled it down on his body so that there might be no wrinkles, examined,with a certain complaisance, the lustrous gleams of his trousers, andmarched on the bench. This march savored of an attack, and certainlyof a desire for conquest. So I say that he marched on the bench, as Ishould say: "Hannibal marched on Rome."
However, all his movements were purely mechanical, and he hadinterrupted none of the habitual preoccupations of his mind and labors.At that moment, he was thinking that the _Manuel du Baccalauréat_ wasa stupid book, and that it must have been drawn up by rare idiots, toallow of three tragedies of Racine and only one comedy of Molière beinganalyzed therein as masterpieces of the human mind. There was a piercingwhistling going on in his ears. As he approached the bench, he heldfast to the folds in his coat, and fixed his eyes on the young girl. Itseemed to him that she filled the entire extremity of the alley with avague blue light.
In proportion as he drew near, his pace slackened more and more. Onarriving at some little distance from the bench, and long before he hadreached the end of the walk, he halted, and could not explain to himselfwhy he retraced his steps. He did not even say to himself that he wouldnot go as far as the end. It was only with difficulty that the younggirl could have perceived him in the distance and noted his fineappearance in his new clothes. Nevertheless, he held himself very erect,in case any one should be looking at him from behind.
He attained the opposite end, then came back, and this time heapproached a little nearer to the bench. He even got to within threeintervals of trees, but there he felt an indescribable impossibility ofproceeding further, and he hesitated. He thought he saw the young girl'sface bending towards him. But he exerted a manly and violent effort,subdued his hesitation, and walked straight ahead. A few seconds later,he rushed in front of the bench, erect and firm, reddening to the veryears, without daring to cast a glance either to the right or to theleft, with his hand thrust into his coat like a statesman. At the momentwhen he passed,--under the cannon of the place,--he felt his heart beatwildly. As on the preceding day, she wore her damask gown and her crapebonnet. He heard an ineffable voice, which must have been "her voice."She was talking tranquilly. She was very pretty. He felt it, although hemade no attempt to see her. "She could not, however," he thought, "helpfeeling esteem and consideration for me, if she only knew that I amthe veritable author of the dissertation on Marcos Obrégon de la Ronde,which M. François de Neufchâteau put, as though it were his own, at thehead of his edition of _Gil Blas_." He went beyond the bench as far asthe extremity of the walk, which was very near, then turned on his heeland passed once more in front of the lovely girl. This time, he was verypale. Moreover, all his emotions were disagreeable. As he went furtherfrom the bench and the young girl, and while his back was turned to her,he fancied that she was gazing after him, and that made him stumble.
He did not attempt to approach the bench again; he halted near themiddle of the walk, and there, a thing which he never did, he sat down,and reflecting in the most profoundly indistinct depths of his spirit,that after all, it was hard that persons whose white bonnet and blackgown he admired should be absolutely insensible to his splendid trousersand his new coat.
At the expiration of a quarter of an hour, he rose, as though he wereon the point of again beginning his march towards that bench which wassurrounded by an aureole. But he remained standing there, motionless.For the first time in fifteen months, he said to himself that thatgentleman who sat there every day with his daughter, had, on his side,noticed him, and probably considered his assiduity singular.
For the first time, also, he was conscious of some irreverence indesignating that stranger, even in his secret thoughts, by the sobriquetof M. Leblanc.
He stood thus for several minutes, with drooping head, tracing figuresin the sand, with the cane which he held in his hand.
Then he turned abruptly in the direction opposite to the bench, to M.Leblanc and his daughter, and went home.
That day he forgot to dine. At eight o'clock in the evening he perceivedthis fact, and as it was too late to go down to the Rue Saint-Jacques,he said: "Never mind!" and ate a bit of bread.
He did not go to bed until he had brushed his coat and folded it up withgreat care.
