Les Misérables, page 229
CHAPTER XX--THE TRAP
The door of the garret had just opened abruptly, and allowed a view ofthree men clad in blue linen blouses, and masked with masks of blackpaper. The first was thin, and had a long, iron-tipped cudgel; thesecond, who was a sort of colossus, carried, by the middle of thehandle, with the blade downward, a butcher's pole-axe for slaughteringcattle. The third, a man with thick-set shoulders, not so slender asthe first, held in his hand an enormous key stolen from the door of someprison.
It appeared that the arrival of these men was what Jondrette had beenwaiting for. A rapid dialogue ensued between him and the man with thecudgel, the thin one.
"Is everything ready?" said Jondrette.
"Yes," replied the thin man.
"Where is Montparnasse?"
"The young principal actor stopped to chat with your girl."
"Which?"
"The eldest."
"Is there a carriage at the door?"
"Yes."
"Is the team harnessed?"
"Yes."
"With two good horses?"
"Excellent."
"Is it waiting where I ordered?"
"Yes."
"Good," said Jondrette.
M. Leblanc was very pale. He was scrutinizing everything around him inthe den, like a man who understands what he has fallen into, and hishead, directed in turn toward all the heads which surrounded him, movedon his neck with an astonished and attentive slowness, but therewas nothing in his air which resembled fear. He had improvisedan intrenchment out of the table; and the man, who but an instantpreviously, had borne merely the appearance of a kindly old man, hadsuddenly become a sort of athlete, and placed his robust fist on theback of his chair, with a formidable and surprising gesture.
This old man, who was so firm and so brave in the presence of such adanger, seemed to possess one of those natures which are as courageousas they are kind, both easily and simply. The father of a woman whom welove is never a stranger to us. Marius felt proud of that unknown man.
Three of the men, of whom Jondrette had said: "They arechimney-builders," had armed themselves from the pile of old iron, onewith a heavy pair of shears, the second with weighing-tongs, the thirdwith a hammer, and had placed themselves across the entrance withoututtering a syllable. The old man had remained on the bed, and had merelyopened his eyes. The Jondrette woman had seated herself beside him.
Marius decided that in a few seconds more the moment for interventionwould arrive, and he raised his right hand towards the ceiling, in thedirection of the corridor, in readiness to discharge his pistol.
Jondrette having terminated his colloquy with the man with the cudgel,turned once more to M. Leblanc, and repeated his question, accompanyingit with that low, repressed, and terrible laugh which was peculiar tohim:--
"So you do not recognize me?"
M. Leblanc looked him full in the face, and replied:--
"No."
Then Jondrette advanced to the table. He leaned across the candle,crossing his arms, putting his angular and ferocious jaw close to M.Leblanc's calm face, and advancing as far as possible without forcing M.Leblanc to retreat, and, in this posture of a wild beast who is about tobite, he exclaimed:--
"My name is not Fabantou, my name is not Jondrette, my name isThénardier. I am the inn-keeper of Montfermeil! Do you understand?Thénardier! Now do you know me?"
An almost imperceptible flush crossed M. Leblanc's brow, and he repliedwith a voice which neither trembled nor rose above its ordinary level,with his accustomed placidity:--
"No more than before."
Marius did not hear this reply. Any one who had seen him at that momentthrough the darkness would have perceived that he was haggard,stupid, thunder-struck. At the moment when Jondrette said: "My name isThénardier," Marius had trembled in every limb, and had leaned againstthe wall, as though he felt the cold of a steel blade through his heart.Then his right arm, all ready to discharge the signal shot, droppedslowly, and at the moment when Jondrette repeated, "Thénardier, do youunderstand?" Marius's faltering fingers had come near letting the pistolfall. Jondrette, by revealing his identity, had not moved M. Leblanc,but he had quite upset Marius. That name of Thénardier, with which M.Leblanc did not seem to be acquainted, Marius knew well. Let the readerrecall what that name meant to him! That name he had worn on his heart,inscribed in his father's testament! He bore it at the bottom of hismind, in the depths of his memory, in that sacred injunction: "A certainThénardier saved my life. If my son encounters him, he will do him allthe good that lies in his power." That name, it will be remembered,was one of the pieties of his soul; he mingled it with the name ofhis father in his worship. What! This man was that Thénardier, thatinn-keeper of Montfermeil whom he had so long and so vainly sought! Hehad found him at last, and how? His father's saviour was a ruffian!That man, to whose service Marius was burning to devote himself, wasa monster! That liberator of Colonel Pontmercy was on the pointof committing a crime whose scope Marius did not, as yet, clearlycomprehend, but which resembled an assassination! And against whom,great God! what a fatality! What a bitter mockery of fate! His fatherhad commanded him from the depths of his coffin to do all the good inhis power to this Thénardier, and for four years Marius had cherishedno other thought than to acquit this debt of his father's, and at themoment when he was on the eve of having a brigand seized in the veryact of crime by justice, destiny cried to him: "This is Thénardier!"He could at last repay this man for his father's life, saved amid ahail-storm of grape-shot on the heroic field of Waterloo, and repay itwith the scaffold! He had sworn to himself that if ever he found thatThénardier, he would address him only by throwing himself at his feet;and now he actually had found him, but it was only to deliver him overto the executioner! His father said to him: "Succor Thénardier!" And hereplied to that adored and sainted voice by crushing Thénardier! He wasabout to offer to his father in his grave the spectacle of that man whohad torn him from death at the peril of his own life, executed on thePlace Saint-Jacques through the means of his son, of that Marius to whomhe had entrusted that man by his will! And what a mockery to have solong worn on his breast his father's last commands, written in his ownhand, only to act in so horribly contrary a sense! But, on the otherhand, now look on that trap and not prevent it! Condemn the victim andto spare the assassin! Could one be held to any gratitude towards somiserable a wretch? All the ideas which Marius had cherished for thelast four years were pierced through and through, as it were, by thisunforeseen blow.
He shuddered. Everything depended on him. Unknown to themselves, heheld in his hand all those beings who were moving about there before hiseyes. If he fired his pistol, M. Leblanc was saved, and Thénardier lost;if he did not fire, M. Leblanc would be sacrificed, and, who knows?Thénardier would escape. Should he dash down the one or allow the otherto fall? Remorse awaited him in either case.
What was he to do? What should he choose? Be false to the most imperioussouvenirs, to all those solemn vows to himself, to the most sacred duty,to the most venerated text! Should he ignore his father's testament,or allow the perpetration of a crime! On the one hand, it seemed to himthat he heard "his Ursule" supplicating for her father and on the other,the colonel commending Thénardier to his care. He felt that he was goingmad. His knees gave way beneath him. And he had not even the time fordeliberation, so great was the fury with which the scene before his eyeswas hastening to its catastrophe. It was like a whirlwind of which hehad thought himself the master, and which was now sweeping him away. Hewas on the verge of swooning.
In the meantime, Thénardier, whom we shall henceforth call by no othername, was pacing up and down in front of the table in a sort of frenzyand wild triumph.
He seized the candle in his fist, and set it on the chimney-piece withso violent a bang that the wick came near being extinguished, and thetallow bespattered the wall.
Then he turned to M. Leblanc with a horrible look, and spit out thesewords:--
"Done for! Smoked brown! Cooked! Spitchcocked!"
And again he began to march back and forth, in full eruption.
"Ah!" he cried, "so I've found you again at last, Mister philanthropist!Mister threadbare millionnaire! Mister giver of dolls! you oldninny! Ah! so you don't recognize me! No, it wasn't you who came toMontfermeil, to my inn, eight years ago, on Christmas eve, 1823! Itwasn't you who carried off that Fantine's child from me! The Lark! Itwasn't you who had a yellow great-coat! No! Nor a package of duds inyour hand, as you had this morning here! Say, wife, it seems to be hismania to carry packets of woollen stockings into houses! Old charitymonger, get out with you! Are you a hosier, Mister millionnaire? Yougive away your stock in trade to the poor, holy man! What bosh! merryAndrew! Ah! and you don't recognize me? Well, I recognize you, that Ido! I recognized you the very moment you poked your snout in here. Ah!you'll find out presently, that it isn't all roses to thrust yourselfin that fashion into people's houses, under the pretext that they aretaverns, in wretched clothes, with the air of a poor man, to whom onewould give a sou, to deceive persons, to play the generous, to take awaytheir means of livelihood, and to make threats in the woods, and youcan't call things quits because afterwards, when people are ruined, youbring a coat that is too large, and two miserable hospital blankets, youold blackguard, you child-stealer!"
He paused, and seemed to be talking to himself for a moment. One wouldhave said that his wrath had fallen into some hole, like the Rhone;then, as though he were concluding aloud the things which he had beensaying to himself in a whisper, he smote the table with his fist, andshouted:--
"And with his goody-goody air!"
And, apostrophizing M. Leblanc:--
"Parbleu! You made game of me in the past! You are the cause of all mymisfortunes! For fifteen hundred francs you got a girl whom I had, andwho certainly belonged to rich people, and who had already brought in agreat deal of money, and from whom I might have extracted enough to liveon all my life! A girl who would have made up to me for everything thatI lost in that vile cook-shop, where there was nothing but one continualrow, and where, like a fool, I ate up my last farthing! Oh! I wish allthe wine folks drank in my house had been poison to those who drank it!Well, never mind! Say, now! You must have thought me ridiculous when youwent off with the Lark! You had your cudgel in the forest. You were thestronger. Revenge. I'm the one to hold the trumps to-day! You're in asorry case, my good fellow! Oh, but I can laugh! Really, I laugh! Didn'the fall into the trap! I told him that I was an actor, that my name wasFabantou, that I had played comedy with Mamselle Mars, with MamselleMuche, that my landlord insisted on being paid tomorrow, the 4th ofFebruary, and he didn't even notice that the 8th of January, and not the4th of February is the time when the quarter runs out! Absurd idiot!And the four miserable Philippes which he has brought me! Scoundrel!He hadn't the heart even to go as high as a hundred francs! And howhe swallowed my platitudes! That did amuse me. I said to myself:'Blockhead! Come, I've got you! I lick your paws this morning, but I'llgnaw your heart this evening!'"
Thénardier paused. He was out of breath. His little, narrow chest pantedlike a forge bellows. His eyes were full of the ignoble happiness of afeeble, cruel, and cowardly creature, which finds that it can, at last,harass what it has feared, and insult what it has flattered, the joy ofa dwarf who should be able to set his heel on the head of Goliath, thejoy of a jackal which is beginning to rend a sick bull, so nearly deadthat he can no longer defend himself, but sufficiently alive to sufferstill.
M. Leblanc did not interrupt him, but said to him when he paused:--
"I do not know what you mean to say. You are mistaken in me. I am a verypoor man, and anything but a millionnaire. I do not know you. You aremistaking me for some other person."
"Ah!" roared Thénardier hoarsely, "a pretty lie! You stick to thatpleasantry, do you! You're floundering, my old buck! Ah! You don'tremember! You don't see who I am?"
"Excuse me, sir," said M. Leblanc with a politeness of accent, which atthat moment seemed peculiarly strange and powerful, "I see that you area villain!"
Who has not remarked the fact that odious creatures possess asusceptibility of their own, that monsters are ticklish! At this word"villain," the female Thénardier sprang from the bed, Thénardier graspedhis chair as though he were about to crush it in his hands. "Don't youstir!" he shouted to his wife; and, turning to M. Leblanc:--
"Villain! Yes, I know that you call us that, you rich gentlemen! Stop!it's true that I became bankrupt, that I am in hiding, that I have nobread, that I have not a single sou, that I am a villain! It's threedays since I have had anything to eat, so I'm a villain! Ah! you folkswarm your feet, you have Sakoski boots, you have wadded great-coats,like archbishops, you lodge on the first floor in houses that haveporters, you eat truffles, you eat asparagus at forty francs the bunchin the month of January, and green peas, you gorge yourselves, and whenyou want to know whether it is cold, you look in the papers to see whatthe engineer Chevalier's thermometer says about it. We, it is we who arethermometers. We don't need to go out and look on the quay at the cornerof the Tour de l'Horologe, to find out the number of degrees of cold;we feel our blood congealing in our veins, and the ice forming round ourhearts, and we say: 'There is no God!' And you come to our caverns, yesour caverns, for the purpose of calling us villains! But we'll devouryou! But we'll devour you, poor little things! Just see here, Mistermillionnaire: I have been a solid man, I have held a license, I havebeen an elector, I am a bourgeois, that I am! And it's quite possiblethat you are not!"
Here Thénardier took a step towards the men who stood near the door, andadded with a shudder:--
"When I think that he has dared to come here and talk to me like acobbler!"
Then addressing M. Leblanc with a fresh outburst of frenzy:--
"And listen to this also, Mister philanthropist! I'm not a suspiciouscharacter, not a bit of it! I'm not a man whose name nobody knows, andwho comes and abducts children from houses! I'm an old French soldier,I ought to have been decorated! I was at Waterloo, so I was! And in thebattle I saved a general called the Comte of I don't know what. He toldme his name, but his beastly voice was so weak that I didn't hear. All Icaught was Merci [thanks]. I'd rather have had his name than his thanks.That would have helped me to find him again. The picture that you seehere, and which was painted by David at Bruqueselles,--do you know whatit represents? It represents me. David wished to immortalize thatfeat of prowess. I have that general on my back, and I am carrying himthrough the grape-shot. There's the history of it! That general neverdid a single thing for me; he was no better than the rest! But none theless, I saved his life at the risk of my own, and I have the certificateof the fact in my pocket! I am a soldier of Waterloo, by all the furies!And now that I have had the goodness to tell you all this, let's have anend of it. I want money, I want a deal of money, I must have an enormouslot of money, or I'll exterminate you, by the thunder of the good God!"
Marius had regained some measure of control over his anguish, and waslistening. The last possibility of doubt had just vanished. It certainlywas the Thénardier of the will. Marius shuddered at that reproach ofingratitude directed against his father, and which he was on the pointof so fatally justifying. His perplexity was redoubled.
Moreover, there was in all these words of Thénardier, in his accent, inhis gesture, in his glance which darted flames at every word, therewas, in this explosion of an evil nature disclosing everything, in thatmixture of braggadocio and abjectness, of pride and pettiness, of rageand folly, in that chaos of real griefs and false sentiments, inthat immodesty of a malicious man tasting the voluptuous delightsof violence, in that shameless nudity of a repulsive soul, in thatconflagration of all sufferings combined with all hatreds, somethingwhich was as hideous as evil, and as heart-rending as the truth.
The picture of the master, the painting by David which he had proposedthat M. Leblanc should purchase, was nothing else, as the reader hasdivined, than the sign of his tavern painted, as it will be remembered,by himself, the only relic which he had preserved from his shipwreck atMontfermeil.
As he had ceased to intercept Marius' visual ray, Marius could examinethis thing, and in the daub, he actually did recognize a battle, abackground of smoke, and a man carrying another man. It was the groupcomposed of Pontmercy and Thénardier; the sergeant the rescuer, thecolonel rescued. Marius was like a drunken man; this picture restoredhis father to life in some sort; it was no longer the signboard of thewine-shop at Montfermeil, it was a resurrection; a tomb had yawned, aphantom had risen there. Marius heard his heart beating in his temples,he had the cannon of Waterloo in his ears, his bleeding father, vaguelydepicted on that sinister panel terrified him, and it seemed to him thatthe misshapen spectre was gazing intently at him.
When Thénardier had recovered his breath, he turned his bloodshot eyeson M. Leblanc, and said to him in a low, curt voice:--
"What have you to say before we put the handcuffs on you?"
M. Leblanc held his peace.
In the midst of this silence, a cracked voice launched this lugubrioussarcasm from the corridor:--
"If there's any wood to be split, I'm there!"
It was the man with the axe, who was growing merry.
At the same moment, an enormous, bristling, and clayey face made itsappearance at the door, with a hideous laugh which exhibited not teeth,but fangs.
It was the face of the man with the butcher's axe.
"Why have you taken off your mask?" cried Thénardier in a rage.
"For fun," retorted the man.
For the last few minutes M. Leblanc had appeared to be watching andfollowing all the movements of Thénardier, who, blinded and dazzled byhis own rage, was stalking to and fro in the den with full confidencethat the door was guarded, and of holding an unarmed man fast, he beingarmed himself, of being nine against one, supposing that the femaleThénardier counted for but one man.
During his address to the man with the pole-axe, he had turned his backto M. Leblanc.
M. Leblanc seized this moment, overturned the chair with his foot andthe table with his fist, and with one bound, with prodigious agility,before Thénardier had time to turn round, he had reached the window. Toopen it, to scale the frame, to bestride it, was the work of a secondonly. He was half out when six robust fists seized him and draggedhim back energetically into the hovel. These were the three"chimney-builders," who had flung themselves upon him. At the same timethe Thénardier woman had wound her hands in his hair.
At the trampling which ensued, the other ruffians rushed up from thecorridor. The old man on the bed, who seemed under the influenceof wine, descended from the pallet and came reeling up, with astone-breaker's hammer in his hand.
One of the "chimney-builders," whose smirched face was lighted up bythe candle, and in whom Marius recognized, in spite of his daubing,Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, lifted above M. Leblanc'shead a sort of bludgeon made of two balls of lead, at the two ends of abar of iron.
Marius could not resist this sight. "My father," he thought, "forgiveme!"
And his finger sought the trigger of his pistol.
The shot was on the point of being discharged when Thénardier's voiceshouted:--
"Don't harm him!"
This desperate attempt of the victim, far from exasperating Thénardier,had calmed him. There existed in him two men, the ferocious man andthe adroit man. Up to that moment, in the excess of his triumph in thepresence of the prey which had been brought down, and which did notstir, the ferocious man had prevailed; when the victim struggled andtried to resist, the adroit man reappeared and took the upper hand.
"Don't hurt him!" he repeated, and without suspecting it, his firstsuccess was to arrest the pistol in the act of being discharged, and toparalyze Marius, in whose opinion the urgency of the case disappeared,and who, in the face of this new phase, saw no inconvenience in waitinga while longer.
Who knows whether some chance would not arise which would deliver himfrom the horrible alternative of allowing Ursule's father to perish, orof destroying the colonel's saviour?
A herculean struggle had begun. With one blow full in the chest, M.Leblanc had sent the old man tumbling, rolling in the middle of theroom, then with two backward sweeps of his hand he had overthrown twomore assailants, and he held one under each of his knees; the wretcheswere rattling in the throat beneath this pressure as under a granitemillstone; but the other four had seized the formidable old man by botharms and the back of his neck, and were holding him doubled up over thetwo "chimney-builders" on the floor.
Thus, the master of some and mastered by the rest, crushing thosebeneath him and stifling under those on top of him, endeavoring in vainto shake off all the efforts which were heaped upon him, M. Leblancdisappeared under the horrible group of ruffians like the wild boarbeneath a howling pile of dogs and hounds.
They succeeded in overthrowing him upon the bed nearest the window, andthere they held him in awe. The Thénardier woman had not released herclutch on his hair.
"Don't you mix yourself up in this affair," said Thénardier. "You'lltear your shawl."
The Thénardier obeyed, as the female wolf obeys the male wolf, with agrowl.
"Now," said Thénardier, "search him, you other fellows!"
M. Leblanc seemed to have renounced the idea of resistance.
They searched him.
He had nothing on his person except a leather purse containing sixfrancs, and his handkerchief.
Thénardier put the handkerchief into his own pocket.
"What! No pocket-book?" he demanded.
"No, nor watch," replied one of the "chimney-builders."
"Never mind," murmured the masked man who carried the big key, in thevoice of a ventriloquist, "he's a tough old fellow."
Thénardier went to the corner near the door, picked up a bundle of ropesand threw them at the men.
"Tie him to the leg of the bed," said he.
And, catching sight of the old man who had been stretched across theroom by the blow from M. Leblanc's fist, and who made no movement, headded:--
"Is Boulatruelle dead?"
"No," replied Bigrenaille, "he's drunk."
"Sweep him into a corner," said Thénardier.
Two of the "chimney-builders" pushed the drunken man into the cornernear the heap of old iron with their feet.
"Babet," said Thénardier in a low tone to the man with the cudgel, "whydid you bring so many; they were not needed."
"What can you do?" replied the man with the cudgel, "they all wanted tobe in it. This is a bad season. There's no business going on."
The pallet on which M. Leblanc had been thrown was a sort of hospitalbed, elevated on four coarse wooden legs, roughly hewn.
M. Leblanc let them take their own course.
The ruffians bound him securely, in an upright attitude, with his feeton the ground at the head of the bed, the end which was most remote fromthe window, and nearest to the fireplace.
When the last knot had been tied, Thénardier took a chair and seatedhimself almost facing M. Leblanc.
Thénardier no longer looked like himself; in the course of a few momentshis face had passed from unbridled violence to tranquil and cunningsweetness.
Marius found it difficult to recognize in that polished smile of a manin official life the almost bestial mouth which had been foaming but amoment before; he gazed with amazement on that fantastic and alarmingmetamorphosis, and he felt as a man might feel who should behold a tigerconverted into a lawyer.
"Monsieur--" said Thénardier.
And dismissing with a gesture the ruffians who still kept their hands onM. Leblanc:--
"Stand off a little, and let me have a talk with the gentleman."
All retired towards the door.
He went on:--
"Monsieur, you did wrong to try to jump out of the window. You mighthave broken your leg. Now, if you will permit me, we will conversequietly. In the first place, I must communicate to you an observationwhich I have made which is, that you have not uttered the faintest cry."
Thénardier was right, this detail was correct, although it had escapedMarius in his agitation. M. Leblanc had barely pronounced a few words,without raising his voice, and even during his struggle with the sixruffians near the window he had preserved the most profound and singularsilence.
Thénardier continued:--
"Mon Dieu! You might have shouted 'stop thief' a bit, and I should nothave thought it improper. 'Murder!' That, too, is said occasionally,and, so far as I am concerned, I should not have taken it in bad part.It is very natural that you should make a little row when you findyourself with persons who don't inspire you with sufficient confidence.You might have done that, and no one would have troubled you on thataccount. You would not even have been gagged. And I will tell you why.This room is very private. That's its only recommendation, but it hasthat in its favor. You might fire off a mortar and it would produceabout as much noise at the nearest police station as the snores of adrunken man. Here a cannon would make a _boum_, and the thunder wouldmake a _pouf_. It's a handy lodging. But, in short, you did not shout,and it is better so. I present you my compliments, and I will tellyou the conclusion that I draw from that fact: My dear sir, when a manshouts, who comes? The police. And after the police? Justice. Well!You have not made an outcry; that is because you don't care to have thepolice and the courts come in any more than we do. It is because,--Ihave long suspected it,--you have some interest in hiding something. Onour side we have the same interest. So we can come to an understanding."
As he spoke thus, it seemed as though Thénardier, who kept his eyesfixed on M. Leblanc, were trying to plunge the sharp points which dartedfrom the pupils into the very conscience of his prisoner. Moreover, hislanguage, which was stamped with a sort of moderated, subdued insolenceand crafty insolence, was reserved and almost choice, and in thatrascal, who had been nothing but a robber a short time previously, onenow felt "the man who had studied for the priesthood."
The silence preserved by the prisoner, that precaution which had beencarried to the point of forgetting all anxiety for his own life, thatresistance opposed to the first impulse of nature, which is to uttera cry, all this, it must be confessed, now that his attention hadbeen called to it, troubled Marius, and affected him with painfulastonishment.
Thénardier's well-grounded observation still further obscured for Mariusthe dense mystery which enveloped that grave and singular person on whomCourfeyrac had bestowed the sobriquet of Monsieur Leblanc.
But whoever he was, bound with ropes, surrounded with executioners, halfplunged, so to speak, in a grave which was closing in upon him to theextent of a degree with every moment that passed, in the presenceof Thénardier's wrath, as in the presence of his sweetness, this manremained impassive; and Marius could not refrain from admiring at such amoment the superbly melancholy visage.
Here, evidently, was a soul which was inaccessible to terror, and whichdid not know the meaning of despair. Here was one of those men whocommand amazement in desperate circumstances. Extreme as was the crisis,inevitable as was the catastrophe, there was nothing here of the agonyof the drowning man, who opens his horror-filled eyes under the water.
Thénardier rose in an unpretending manner, went to the fireplace, shovedaside the screen, which he leaned against the neighboring pallet, andthus unmasked the brazier full of glowing coals, in which the prisonercould plainly see the chisel white-hot and spotted here and there withtiny scarlet stars.
Then Thénardier returned to his seat beside M. Leblanc.
"I continue," said he. "We can come to an understanding. Let us arrangethis matter in an amicable way. I was wrong to lose my temper just now,I don't know what I was thinking of, I went a great deal too far, I saidextravagant things. For example, because you are a millionnaire, I toldyou that I exacted money, a lot of money, a deal of money. That wouldnot be reasonable. Mon Dieu, in spite of your riches, you have expensesof your own--who has not? I don't want to ruin you, I am not a greedyfellow, after all. I am not one of those people who, because they havethe advantage of the position, profit by the fact to make themselvesridiculous. Why, I'm taking things into consideration and making asacrifice on my side. I only want two hundred thousand francs."
M. Leblanc uttered not a word.
Thénardier went on:--
"You see that I put not a little water in my wine; I'm very moderate. Idon't know the state of your fortune, but I do know that you don't stickat money, and a benevolent man like yourself can certainly give twohundred thousand francs to the father of a family who is out of luck.Certainly, you are reasonable, too; you haven't imagined that I shouldtake all the trouble I have to-day and organized this affair thisevening, which has been labor well bestowed, in the opinion of thesegentlemen, merely to wind up by asking you for enough to go and drinkred wine at fifteen sous and eat veal at Desnoyer's. Two hundredthousand francs--it's surely worth all that. This trifle once out ofyour pocket, I guarantee you that that's the end of the matter, and thatyou have no further demands to fear. You will say to me: 'But I haven'ttwo hundred thousand francs about me.' Oh! I'm not extortionate. I don'tdemand that. I only ask one thing of you. Have the goodness to writewhat I am about to dictate to you."
Here Thénardier paused; then he added, emphasizing his words, andcasting a smile in the direction of the brazier:--
"I warn you that I shall not admit that you don't know how to write."
A grand inquisitor might have envied that smile.
Thénardier pushed the table close to M. Leblanc, and took an inkstand,a pen, and a sheet of paper from the drawer which he left half open, andin which gleamed the long blade of the knife.
He placed the sheet of paper before M. Leblanc.
"Write," said he.
The prisoner spoke at last.
"How do you expect me to write? I am bound."
"That's true, excuse me!" ejaculated Thénardier, "you are quite right."
And turning to Bigrenaille:--
"Untie the gentleman's right arm."
Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, executed Thénardier'sorder.
When the prisoner's right arm was free, Thénardier dipped the pen in theink and presented it to him.
"Understand thoroughly, sir, that you are in our power, at ourdiscretion, that no human power can get you out of this, and that weshall be really grieved if we are forced to proceed to disagreeableextremities. I know neither your name, nor your address, but I warn you,that you will remain bound until the person charged with carrying theletter which you are about to write shall have returned. Now, be so goodas to write."
"What?" demanded the prisoner.
"I will dictate."
M. Leblanc took the pen.
Thénardier began to dictate:--
"My daughter--"
The prisoner shuddered, and raised his eyes to Thénardier.
"Put down 'My dear daughter'--" said Thénardier.
M. Leblanc obeyed.
Thénardier continued:--
"Come instantly--"
He paused:--
"You address her as _thou_, do you not?"
"Who?" asked M. Leblanc.
"Parbleu!" cried Thénardier, "the little one, the Lark."
M. Leblanc replied without the slightest apparent emotion:--
"I do not know what you mean."
"Go on, nevertheless," ejaculated Thénardier, and he continued todictate:--
"Come immediately, I am in absolute need of thee. The person who willdeliver this note to thee is instructed to conduct thee to me. I amwaiting for thee. Come with confidence."
M. Leblanc had written the whole of this.
Thénardier resumed:--
"Ah! erase 'come with confidence'; that might lead her to suppose thateverything was not as it should be, and that distrust is possible."
M. Leblanc erased the three words.
"Now," pursued Thénardier, "sign it. What's your name?"
The prisoner laid down the pen and demanded:--
"For whom is this letter?"
"You know well," retorted Thénardier, "for the little one I just toldyou so."
It was evident that Thénardier avoided naming the young girl inquestion. He said "the Lark," he said "the little one," but he did notpronounce her name--the precaution of a clever man guarding his secretfrom his accomplices. To mention the name was to deliver the whole"affair" into their hands, and to tell them more about it than there wasany need of their knowing.
He went on:--
"Sign. What is your name?"
"Urbain Fabre," said the prisoner.
Thénardier, with the movement of a cat, dashed his hand into his pocketand drew out the handkerchief which had been seized on M. Leblanc. Helooked for the mark on it, and held it close to the candle.
"U. F. That's it. Urbain Fabre. Well, sign it U. F."
The prisoner signed.
"As two hands are required to fold the letter, give it to me, I willfold it."
That done, Thénardier resumed:--
"Address it, 'Mademoiselle Fabre,' at your house. I know that you live along distance from here, near Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, because you goto mass there every day, but I don't know in what street. I see thatyou understand your situation. As you have not lied about your name, youwill not lie about your address. Write it yourself."
The prisoner paused thoughtfully for a moment, then he took the pen andwrote:--
"Mademoiselle Fabre, at M. Urbain Fabre's, Rue Saint-Dominique-D'Enfer,No. 17."
Thénardier seized the letter with a sort of feverish convulsion.
"Wife!" he cried.
The Thénardier woman hastened to him.
"Here's the letter. You know what you have to do. There is a carriage atthe door. Set out at once, and return ditto."
And addressing the man with the meat-axe:--
"Since you have taken off your nose-screen, accompany the mistress. Youwill get up behind the fiacre. You know where you left the team?"
"Yes," said the man.
And depositing his axe in a corner, he followed Madame Thénardier.
As they set off, Thénardier thrust his head through the half-open door,and shouted into the corridor:--
"Above all things, don't lose the letter! remember that you carry twohundred thousand francs with you!"
The Thénardier's hoarse voice replied:--
"Be easy. I have it in my bosom."
A minute had not elapsed, when the sound of the cracking of a whip washeard, which rapidly retreated and died away.
"Good!" growled Thénardier. "They're going at a fine pace. At such agallop, the bourgeoise will be back inside three-quarters of an hour."
He drew a chair close to the fireplace, folding his arms, and presentinghis muddy boots to the brazier.
"My feet are cold!" said he.
Only five ruffians now remained in the den with Thénardier and theprisoner.
These men, through the black masks or paste which covered their faces,and made of them, at fear's pleasure, charcoal-burners, negroes, ordemons, had a stupid and gloomy air, and it could be felt that theyperpetrated a crime like a bit of work, tranquilly, without either wrathor mercy, with a sort of ennui. They were crowded together in one cornerlike brutes, and remained silent.
Thénardier warmed his feet.
The prisoner had relapsed into his taciturnity. A sombre calm hadsucceeded to the wild uproar which had filled the garret but a fewmoments before.
The candle, on which a large "stranger" had formed, cast but a dimlight in the immense hovel, the brazier had grown dull, and all thosemonstrous heads cast misshapen shadows on the walls and ceiling.
No sound was audible except the quiet breathing of the old drunken man,who was fast asleep.
Marius waited in a state of anxiety that was augmented by every trifle.The enigma was more impenetrable than ever.
Who was this "little one" whom Thénardier had called the Lark? Was shehis "Ursule"? The prisoner had not seemed to be affected by that word,"the Lark," and had replied in the most natural manner in the world:"I do not know what you mean." On the other hand, the two letters U. F.were explained; they meant Urbain Fabre; and Ursule was no longer namedUrsule. This was what Marius perceived most clearly of all.
A sort of horrible fascination held him nailed to his post, from whichhe was observing and commanding this whole scene. There he stood,almost incapable of movement or reflection, as though annihilated by theabominable things viewed at such close quarters. He waited, in the hopeof some incident, no matter of what nature, since he could not collecthis thoughts and did not know upon what course to decide.
"In any case," he said, "if she is the Lark, I shall see her, for theThénardier woman is to bring her hither. That will be the end, and thenI will give my life and my blood if necessary, but I will deliver her!Nothing shall stop me."
Nearly half an hour passed in this manner. Thénardier seemed to beabsorbed in gloomy reflections, the prisoner did not stir. Still, Mariusfancied that at intervals, and for the last few moments, he had heard afaint, dull noise in the direction of the prisoner.
All at once, Thénardier addressed the prisoner:
"By the way, Monsieur Fabre, I might as well say it to you at once."
These few words appeared to be the beginning of an explanation. Mariusstrained his ears.
"My wife will be back shortly, don't get impatient. I think that theLark really is your daughter, and it seems to me quite natural that youshould keep her. Only, listen to me a bit. My wife will go and hunt herup with your letter. I told my wife to dress herself in the way she did,so that your young lady might make no difficulty about following her.They will both enter the carriage with my comrade behind. Somewhere,outside the barrier, there is a trap harnessed to two very good horses.Your young lady will be taken to it. She will alight from the fiacre.My comrade will enter the other vehicle with her, and my wife will comeback here to tell us: 'It's done.' As for the young lady, no harm willbe done to her; the trap will conduct her to a place where she will bequiet, and just as soon as you have handed over to me those little twohundred thousand francs, she will be returned to you. If you have mearrested, my comrade will give a turn of his thumb to the Lark, that'sall."
The prisoner uttered not a syllable. After a pause, Thénardiercontinued:--
"It's very simple, as you see. There'll be no harm done unless you wishthat there should be harm done. I'm telling you how things stand. I warnyou so that you may be prepared."
He paused: the prisoner did not break the silence, and Thénardierresumed:--
"As soon as my wife returns and says to me: 'The Lark is on the way,' wewill release you, and you will be free to go and sleep at home. You seethat our intentions are not evil."
Terrible images passed through Marius' mind. What! That young girl whomthey were abducting was not to be brought back? One of those monsterswas to bear her off into the darkness? Whither? And what if it were she!
It was clear that it was she. Marius felt his heart stop beating.
What was he to do? Discharge the pistol? Place all those scoundrels inthe hands of justice? But the horrible man with the meat-axe would, nonethe less, be out of reach with the young girl, and Marius reflected onThénardier's words, of which he perceived the bloody significance: "Ifyou have me arrested, my comrade will give a turn of his thumb to theLark."
Now, it was not alone by the colonel's testament, it was by his ownlove, it was by the peril of the one he loved, that he felt himselfrestrained.
This frightful situation, which had already lasted above half an hour,was changing its aspect every moment.
Marius had sufficient strength of mind to review in succession all themost heart-breaking conjectures, seeking hope and finding none.
The tumult of his thoughts contrasted with the funereal silence of theden.
In the midst of this silence, the door at the bottom of the staircasewas heard to open and shut again.
The prisoner made a movement in his bonds.
"Here's the bourgeoise," said Thénardier.
He had hardly uttered the words, when the Thénardier woman did in factrush hastily into the room, red, panting, breathless, with flaming eyes,and cried, as she smote her huge hands on her thighs simultaneously:--
"False address!"
The ruffian who had gone with her made his appearance behind her andpicked up his axe again.
She resumed:--
"Nobody there! Rue Saint-Dominique, No. 17, no Monsieur Urbain Fabre!They know not what it means!"
She paused, choking, then went on:--
"Monsieur Thénardier! That old fellow has duped you! You are too good,you see! If it had been me, I'd have chopped the beast in four quartersto begin with! And if he had acted ugly, I'd have boiled him alive! Hewould have been obliged to speak, and say where the girl is, and wherehe keeps his shiners! That's the way I should have managed matters!People are perfectly right when they say that men are a deal stupiderthan women! Nobody at No. 17. It's nothing but a big carriage gate! NoMonsieur Fabre in the Rue Saint-Dominique! And after all that racingand fee to the coachman and all! I spoke to both the porter and theportress, a fine, stout woman, and they know nothing about him!"
Marius breathed freely once more.
She, Ursule or the Lark, he no longer knew what to call her, was safe.
While his exasperated wife vociferated, Thénardier had seated himself onthe table.
For several minutes he uttered not a word, but swung his right foot,which hung down, and stared at the brazier with an air of savage revery.
Finally, he said to the prisoner, with a slow and singularly ferocioustone:
"A false address? What did you expect to gain by that?"
"To gain time!" cried the prisoner in a thundering voice, and at thesame instant he shook off his bonds; they were cut. The prisoner wasonly attached to the bed now by one leg.
Before the seven men had time to collect their senses and dash forward,he had bent down into the fireplace, had stretched out his hand to thebrazier, and had then straightened himself up again, and now Thénardier,the female Thénardier, and the ruffians, huddled in amazement at theextremity of the hovel, stared at him in stupefaction, as almost freeand in a formidable attitude, he brandished above his head the red-hotchisel, which emitted a threatening glow.
The judicial examination to which the ambush in the Gorbeau houseeventually gave rise, established the fact that a large sou piece, cutand worked in a peculiar fashion, was found in the garret, when thepolice made their descent on it. This sou piece was one of those marvelsof industry, which are engendered by the patience of the galleys inthe shadows and for the shadows, marvels which are nothing else thaninstruments of escape. These hideous and delicate products of wonderfulart are to jewellers' work what the metaphors of slang are to poetry.There are Benvenuto Cellinis in the galleys, just as there are Villonsin language. The unhappy wretch who aspires to deliverance finds meanssometimes without tools, sometimes with a common wooden-handled knife,to saw a sou into two thin plates, to hollow out these plates withoutaffecting the coinage stamp, and to make a furrow on the edge of the souin such a manner that the plates will adhere again. This can be screwedtogether and unscrewed at will; it is a box. In this box he hides awatch-spring, and this watch-spring, properly handled, cuts good-sizedchains and bars of iron. The unfortunate convict is supposed to possessmerely a sou; not at all, he possesses liberty. It was a large sou ofthis sort which, during the subsequent search of the police, was foundunder the bed near the window. They also found a tiny saw of blue steelwhich would fit the sou.
It is probable that the prisoner had this sou piece on his person at themoment when the ruffians searched him, that he contrived to concealit in his hand, and that afterward, having his right hand free, heunscrewed it, and used it as a saw to cut the cords which fastened him,which would explain the faint noise and almost imperceptible movementswhich Marius had observed.
As he had not been able to bend down, for fear of betraying himself, hehad not cut the bonds of his left leg.
The ruffians had recovered from their first surprise.
"Be easy," said Bigrenaille to Thénardier. "He still holds by one leg,and he can't get away. I'll answer for that. I tied that paw for him."
In the meanwhile, the prisoner had begun to speak:--
"You are wretches, but my life is not worth the trouble of defending it.When you think that you can make me speak, that you can make me writewhat I do not choose to write, that you can make me say what I do notchoose to say--"
He stripped up his left sleeve, and added:--
"See here."
At the same moment he extended his arm, and laid the glowing chiselwhich he held in his left hand by its wooden handle on his bare flesh.
The crackling of the burning flesh became audible, and the odor peculiarto chambers of torture filled the hovel.
Enlarge
Marius reeled in utter horror, the very ruffians shuddered, hardly amuscle of the old man's face contracted, and while the red-hot ironsank into the smoking wound, impassive and almost august, he fixed onThénardier his beautiful glance, in which there was no hatred, and wheresuffering vanished in serene majesty.
With grand and lofty natures, the revolts of the flesh and the senseswhen subjected to physical suffering cause the soul to spring forth, andmake it appear on the brow, just as rebellions among the soldiery forcethe captain to show himself.
"Wretches!" said he, "have no more fear of me than I have for you!"
And, tearing the chisel from the wound, he hurled it through the window,which had been left open; the horrible, glowing tool disappeared intothe night, whirling as it flew, and fell far away on the snow.
The prisoner resumed:--
"Do what you please with me." He was disarmed.
"Seize him!" said Thénardier.
Two of the ruffians laid their hands on his shoulder, and the maskedman with the ventriloquist's voice took up his station in front of him,ready to smash his skull at the slightest movement.
At the same time, Marius heard below him, at the base of the partition,but so near that he could not see who was speaking, this colloquyconducted in a low tone:--
"There is only one thing left to do."
"Cut his throat."
"That's it."
It was the husband and wife taking counsel together.
Thénardier walked slowly towards the table, opened the drawer, andtook out the knife. Marius fretted with the handle of his pistol.Unprecedented perplexity! For the last hour he had had two voices in hisconscience, the one enjoining him to respect his father's testament, theother crying to him to rescue the prisoner. These two voices continueduninterruptedly that struggle which tormented him to agony. Up to thatmoment he had cherished a vague hope that he should find some meansof reconciling these two duties, but nothing within the limits ofpossibility had presented itself.
However, the peril was urgent, the last bounds of delay had beenreached; Thénardier was standing thoughtfully a few paces distant fromthe prisoner.
Marius cast a wild glance about him, the last mechanical resource ofdespair. All at once a shudder ran through him.
At his feet, on the table, a bright ray of light from the full moonilluminated and seemed to point out to him a sheet of paper. On thispaper he read the following line written that very morning, in largeletters, by the eldest of the Thénardier girls:--
"THE BOBBIES ARE HERE."
An idea, a flash, crossed Marius' mind; this was the expedient of whichhe was in search, the solution of that frightful problem which wastorturing him, of sparing the assassin and saving the victim.
He knelt down on his commode, stretched out his arm, seized the sheet ofpaper, softly detached a bit of plaster from the wall, wrapped the paperround it, and tossed the whole through the crevice into the middle ofthe den.
It was high time. Thénardier had conquered his last fears or his lastscruples, and was advancing on the prisoner.
"Something is falling!" cried the Thénardier woman.
"What is it?" asked her husband.
The woman darted forward and picked up the bit of plaster. She handed itto her husband.
"Where did this come from?" demanded Thénardier.
"Pardie!" ejaculated his wife, "where do you suppose it came from?Through the window, of course."
"I saw it pass," said Bigrenaille.
Thénardier rapidly unfolded the paper and held it close to the candle.
"It's in Éponine's handwriting. The devil!"
He made a sign to his wife, who hastily drew near, and showed her theline written on the sheet of paper, then he added in a subdued voice:--
"Quick! The ladder! Let's leave the bacon in the mousetrap and decamp!"
"Without cutting that man's throat?" asked, the Thénardier woman.
"We haven't the time."
"Through what?" resumed Bigrenaille.
"Through the window," replied Thénardier. "Since Ponine has thrown thestone through the window, it indicates that the house is not watched onthat side."
The mask with the ventriloquist's voice deposited his huge key on thefloor, raised both arms in the air, and opened and clenched his fists,three times rapidly without uttering a word.
This was the signal like the signal for clearing the decks for action onboard ship.
The ruffians who were holding the prisoner released him; in thetwinkling of an eye the rope ladder was unrolled outside the window, andsolidly fastened to the sill by the two iron hooks.
The prisoner paid no attention to what was going on around him. Heseemed to be dreaming or praying.
As soon as the ladder was arranged, Thénardier cried:
"Come! the bourgeoise first!"
And he rushed headlong to the window.
But just as he was about to throw his leg over, Bigrenaille seized himroughly by the collar.
"Not much, come now, you old dog, after us!"
"After us!" yelled the ruffians.
"You are children," said Thénardier, "we are losing time. The police areon our heels."
"Well," said the ruffians, "let's draw lots to see who shall go downfirst."
Thénardier exclaimed:--
"Are you mad! Are you crazy! What a pack of boobies! You want to wastetime, do you? Draw lots, do you? By a wet finger, by a short straw! Withwritten names! Thrown into a hat!--"
"Would you like my hat?" cried a voice on the threshold.
All wheeled round. It was Javert.
He had his hat in his hand, and was holding it out to them with a smile.
