Les Misérables, page 226
CHAPTER XVII--THE USE MADE OF MARIUS' FIVE-FRANC PIECE
Marius decided that the moment had now arrived when he must resume hispost at his observatory. In a twinkling, and with the agility of hisage, he had reached the hole in the partition.
He looked.
The interior of the Jondrette apartment presented a curious aspect, andMarius found an explanation of the singular light which he had noticed.A candle was burning in a candlestick covered with verdigris, butthat was not what really lighted the chamber. The hovel was completelyilluminated, as it were, by the reflection from a rather largesheet-iron brazier standing in the fireplace, and filled with burningcharcoal, the brazier prepared by the Jondrette woman that morning. Thecharcoal was glowing hot and the brazier was red; a blue flame flickeredover it, and helped him to make out the form of the chisel purchased byJondrette in the Rue Pierre-Lombard, where it had been thrust into thebrazier to heat. In one corner, near the door, and as though preparedfor some definite use, two heaps were visible, which appeared to be, theone a heap of old iron, the other a heap of ropes. All this would havecaused the mind of a person who knew nothing of what was in preparation,to waver between a very sinister and a very simple idea. The lair thuslighted up more resembled a forge than a mouth of hell, but Jondrette,in this light, had rather the air of a demon than of a smith.
The heat of the brazier was so great, that the candle on the table wasmelting on the side next the chafing-dish, and was drooping over. An olddark-lantern of copper, worthy of Diogenes turned Cartouche, stood onthe chimney-piece.
The brazier, placed in the fireplace itself, beside the nearly extinctbrands, sent its vapors up the chimney, and gave out no odor.
The moon, entering through the four panes of the window, cast itswhiteness into the crimson and flaming garret; and to the poetic spiritof Marius, who was dreamy even in the moment of action, it was like athought of heaven mingled with the misshapen reveries of earth.
A breath of air which made its way in through the open pane, helped todissipate the smell of the charcoal and to conceal the presence of thebrazier.
The Jondrette lair was, if the reader recalls what we have said of theGorbeau building, admirably chosen to serve as the theatre of a violentand sombre deed, and as the envelope for a crime. It was the mostretired chamber in the most isolated house on the most desertedboulevard in Paris. If the system of ambush and traps had not alreadyexisted, they would have been invented there.
The whole thickness of a house and a multitude of uninhabited roomsseparated this den from the boulevard, and the only window that existedopened on waste lands enclosed with walls and palisades.
Jondrette had lighted his pipe, seated himself on the seatless chair,and was engaged in smoking. His wife was talking to him in a low tone.
If Marius had been Courfeyrac, that is to say, one of those men wholaugh on every occasion in life, he would have burst with laughter whenhis gaze fell on the Jondrette woman. She had on a black bonnet withplumes not unlike the hats of the heralds-at-arms at the coronation ofCharles X., an immense tartan shawl over her knitted petticoat, and theman's shoes which her daughter had scorned in the morning. It was thistoilette which had extracted from Jondrette the exclamation: "Good! Youhave dressed up. You have done well. You must inspire confidence!"
As for Jondrette, he had not taken off the new surtout, which was toolarge for him, and which M. Leblanc had given him, and his costumecontinued to present that contrast of coat and trousers whichconstituted the ideal of a poet in Courfeyrac's eyes.
All at once, Jondrette lifted up his voice:--
"By the way! Now that I think of it. In this weather, he will come in acarriage. Light the lantern, take it and go down stairs. You will standbehind the lower door. The very moment that you hear the carriage stop,you will open the door, instantly, he will come up, you will light thestaircase and the corridor, and when he enters here, you will go downstairs again as speedily as possible, you will pay the coachman, anddismiss the fiacre."
"And the money?" inquired the woman.
Jondrette fumbled in his trousers pocket and handed her five francs.
"What's this?" she exclaimed.
Jondrette replied with dignity:--
"That is the monarch which our neighbor gave us this morning."
And he added:--
"Do you know what? Two chairs will be needed here."
"What for?"
"To sit on."
Marius felt a cold chill pass through his limbs at hearing this mildanswer from Jondrette.
"Pardieu! I'll go and get one of our neighbor's."
And with a rapid movement, she opened the door of the den, and went outinto the corridor.
Marius absolutely had not the time to descend from the commode, reachhis bed, and conceal himself beneath it.
"Take the candle," cried Jondrette.
"No," said she, "it would embarrass me, I have the two chairs to carry.There is moonlight."
Marius heard Mother Jondrette's heavy hand fumbling at his lock in thedark. The door opened. He remained nailed to the spot with the shock andwith horror.
The Jondrette entered.
The dormer window permitted the entrance of a ray of moonlight betweentwo blocks of shadow. One of these blocks of shadow entirely covered thewall against which Marius was leaning, so that he disappeared within it.
Mother Jondrette raised her eyes, did not see Marius, took the twochairs, the only ones which Marius possessed, and went away, letting thedoor fall heavily to behind her.
She re-entered the lair.
"Here are the two chairs."
"And here is the lantern. Go down as quick as you can."
She hastily obeyed, and Jondrette was left alone.
He placed the two chairs on opposite sides of the table, turned thechisel in the brazier, set in front of the fireplace an old screen whichmasked the chafing-dish, then went to the corner where lay the pileof rope, and bent down as though to examine something. Marius thenrecognized the fact, that what he had taken for a shapeless mass was avery well-made rope-ladder, with wooden rungs and two hooks with whichto attach it.
This ladder, and some large tools, veritable masses of iron, which weremingled with the old iron piled up behind the door, had not been in theJondrette hovel in the morning, and had evidently been brought thitherin the afternoon, during Marius' absence.
"Those are the utensils of an edge-tool maker," thought Marius.
Had Marius been a little more learned in this line, he would haverecognized in what he took for the engines of an edge-tool maker,certain instruments which will force a lock or pick a lock, and otherswhich will cut or slice, the two families of tools which burglars call_cadets_ and _fauchants_.
The fireplace and the two chairs were exactly opposite Marius. Thebrazier being concealed, the only light in the room was now furnishedby the candle; the smallest bit of crockery on the table or on thechimney-piece cast a large shadow. There was something indescribablycalm, threatening, and hideous about this chamber. One felt that thereexisted in it the anticipation of something terrible.
Jondrette had allowed his pipe to go out, a serious sign ofpreoccupation, and had again seated himself. The candle brought out thefierce and the fine angles of his countenance. He indulged in scowls andin abrupt unfoldings of the right hand, as though he were responding tothe last counsels of a sombre inward monologue. In the course of one ofthese dark replies which he was making to himself, he pulled the tabledrawer rapidly towards him, took out a long kitchen knife which wasconcealed there, and tried the edge of its blade on his nail. That done,he put the knife back in the drawer and shut it.
Marius, on his side, grasped the pistol in his right pocket, drew it outand cocked it.
The pistol emitted a sharp, clear click, as he cocked it.
Jondrette started, half rose, listened a moment, then began to laugh andsaid:--
"What a fool I am! It's the partition cracking!"
Marius kept the pistol in his hand.
