Les Misérables, page 227
CHAPTER XVIII--MARIUS' TWO CHAIRS FORM A VIS-A-VIS
Suddenly, the distant and melancholy vibration of a clock shook thepanes. Six o'clock was striking from Saint-Médard.
Jondrette marked off each stroke with a toss of his head. When the sixthhad struck, he snuffed the candle with his fingers.
Then he began to pace up and down the room, listened at the corridor,walked on again, then listened once more.
"Provided only that he comes!" he muttered, then he returned to hischair.
He had hardly reseated himself when the door opened.
Mother Jondrette had opened it, and now remained in the corridor makinga horrible, amiable grimace, which one of the holes of the dark-lanternilluminated from below.
"Enter, sir," she said.
"Enter, my benefactor," repeated Jondrette, rising hastily.
M. Leblanc made his appearance.
He wore an air of serenity which rendered him singularly venerable.
He laid four louis on the table.
"Monsieur Fabantou," said he, "this is for your rent and your mostpressing necessities. We will attend to the rest hereafter."
"May God requite it to you, my generous benefactor!" said Jondrette.
And rapidly approaching his wife:--
"Dismiss the carriage!"
She slipped out while her husband was lavishing salutes and offeringM. Leblanc a chair. An instant later she returned and whispered in hisear:--
"'Tis done."
The snow, which had not ceased falling since the morning, was so deepthat the arrival of the fiacre had not been audible, and they did notnow hear its departure.
Meanwhile, M. Leblanc had seated himself.
Jondrette had taken possession of the other chair, facing M. Leblanc.
Now, in order to form an idea of the scene which is to follow, let thereader picture to himself in his own mind, a cold night, the solitudesof the Salpêtrière covered with snow and white as winding-sheets inthe moonlight, the taper-like lights of the street lanterns which shoneredly here and there along those tragic boulevards, and the long rowsof black elms, not a passer-by for perhaps a quarter of a league around,the Gorbeau hovel, at its highest pitch of silence, of horror, and ofdarkness; in that building, in the midst of those solitudes, in themidst of that darkness, the vast Jondrette garret lighted by a singlecandle, and in that den two men seated at a table, M. Leblanc tranquil,Jondrette smiling and alarming, the Jondrette woman, the female wolf,in one corner, and, behind the partition, Marius, invisible, erect, notlosing a word, not missing a single movement, his eye on the watch, andpistol in hand.
However, Marius experienced only an emotion of horror, but no fear. Heclasped the stock of the pistol firmly and felt reassured. "I shall beable to stop that wretch whenever I please," he thought.
He felt that the police were there somewhere in ambuscade, waiting forthe signal agreed upon and ready to stretch out their arm.
Moreover, he was in hopes, that this violent encounter between Jondretteand M. Leblanc would cast some light on all the things which he wasinterested in learning.
