Les Misérables, page 23
CHAPTER II--PRUDENCE COUNSELLED TO WISDOM.
That evening, the Bishop of D----, after his promenade through the town,remained shut up rather late in his room. He was busy over a great workon _Duties_, which was never completed, unfortunately. He was carefullycompiling everything that the Fathers and the doctors have said on thisimportant subject. His book was divided into two parts: firstly, theduties of all; secondly, the duties of each individual, according to theclass to which he belongs. The duties of all are the great duties. Thereare four of these. Saint Matthew points them out: duties towards God(_Matt._ vi.); duties towards one's self (_Matt._ v. 29, 30); dutiestowards one's neighbor (_Matt._ vii. 12); duties towards animals(_Matt._ vi. 20, 25). As for the other duties the Bishop found thempointed out and prescribed elsewhere: to sovereigns and subjects, in theEpistle to the Romans; to magistrates, to wives, to mothers, to youngmen, by Saint Peter; to husbands, fathers, children and servants, inthe Epistle to the Ephesians; to the faithful, in the Epistle to theHebrews; to virgins, in the Epistle to the Corinthians. Out of theseprecepts he was laboriously constructing a harmonious whole, which hedesired to present to souls.
At eight o'clock he was still at work, writing with a good deal ofinconvenience upon little squares of paper, with a big book open on hisknees, when Madame Magloire entered, according to her wont, to get thesilver-ware from the cupboard near his bed. A moment later, the Bishop,knowing that the table was set, and that his sister was probablywaiting for him, shut his book, rose from his table, and entered thedining-room.
The dining-room was an oblong apartment, with a fireplace, which had adoor opening on the street (as we have said), and a window opening onthe garden.
Madame Magloire was, in fact, just putting the last touches to thetable.
As she performed this service, she was conversing with MademoiselleBaptistine.
A lamp stood on the table; the table was near the fireplace. A wood firewas burning there.
One can easily picture to one's self these two women, both of whomwere over sixty years of age. Madame Magloire small, plump, vivacious;Mademoiselle Baptistine gentle, slender, frail, somewhat taller than herbrother, dressed in a gown of puce-colored silk, of the fashion of 1806,which she had purchased at that date in Paris, and which had lastedever since. To borrow vulgar phrases, which possess the merit of givingutterance in a single word to an idea which a whole page would hardlysuffice to express, Madame Magloire had the air of a _peasant_, andMademoiselle Baptistine that of a _lady_. Madame Magloire wore a whitequilted cap, a gold Jeannette cross on a velvet ribbon upon her neck,the only bit of feminine jewelry that there was in the house, a verywhite fichu puffing out from a gown of coarse black woollen stuff, withlarge, short sleeves, an apron of cotton cloth in red and green checks,knotted round the waist with a green ribbon, with a stomacher of thesame attached by two pins at the upper corners, coarse shoes on herfeet, and yellow stockings, like the women of Marseilles. MademoiselleBaptistine's gown was cut on the patterns of 1806, with a short waist,a narrow, sheath-like skirt, puffed sleeves, with flaps and buttons.She concealed her gray hair under a frizzed wig known as the _baby_ wig.Madame Magloire had an intelligent, vivacious, and kindly air; the twocorners of her mouth unequally raised, and her upper lip, which waslarger than the lower, imparted to her a rather crabbed and imperiouslook. So long as Monseigneur held his peace, she talked to himresolutely with a mixture of respect and freedom; but as soon asMonseigneur began to speak, as we have seen, she obeyed passively likeher mistress. Mademoiselle Baptistine did not even speak. She confinedherself to obeying and pleasing him. She had never been pretty, evenwhen she was young; she had large, blue, prominent eyes, and a longarched nose; but her whole visage, her whole person, breathed forth anineffable goodness, as we stated in the beginning. She had always beenpredestined to gentleness; but faith, charity, hope, those three virtueswhich mildly warm the soul, had gradually elevated that gentleness tosanctity. Nature had made her a lamb, religion had made her an angel.Poor sainted virgin! Sweet memory which has vanished!
Mademoiselle Baptistine has so often narrated what passed at theepiscopal residence that evening, that there are many people now livingwho still recall the most minute details.
At the moment when the Bishop entered, Madame Magloire was talking withconsiderable vivacity. She was haranguing Mademoiselle Baptistine ona subject which was familiar to her and to which the Bishop was alsoaccustomed. The question concerned the lock upon the entrance door.
It appears that while procuring some provisions for supper, MadameMagloire had heard things in divers places. People had spoken of aprowler of evil appearance; a suspicious vagabond had arrived who mustbe somewhere about the town, and those who should take it into theirheads to return home late that night might be subjected to unpleasantencounters. The police was very badly organized, moreover, because therewas no love lost between the Prefect and the Mayor, who sought to injureeach other by making things happen. It behooved wise people to play thepart of their own police, and to guard themselves well, and care must betaken to duly close, bar and barricade their houses, and to _fasten thedoors well_.
Madame Magloire emphasized these last words; but the Bishop had justcome from his room, where it was rather cold. He seated himself in frontof the fire, and warmed himself, and then fell to thinking of otherthings. He did not take up the remark dropped with design by MadameMagloire. She repeated it. Then Mademoiselle Baptistine, desirous ofsatisfying Madame Magloire without displeasing her brother, ventured tosay timidly:--
"Did you hear what Madame Magloire is saying, brother?"
"I have heard something of it in a vague way," replied the Bishop. Thenhalf-turning in his chair, placing his hands on his knees, and raisingtowards the old servant woman his cordial face, which so easily grewjoyous, and which was illuminated from below by the firelight,--"Come,what is the matter? What is the matter? Are we in any great danger?"
Then Madame Magloire began the whole story afresh, exaggerating it alittle without being aware of the fact. It appeared that a Bohemian, abare-footed vagabond, a sort of dangerous mendicant, was at that momentin the town. He had presented himself at Jacquin Labarre's to obtainlodgings, but the latter had not been willing to take him in. He hadbeen seen to arrive by the way of the boulevard Gassendi and roam aboutthe streets in the gloaming. A gallows-bird with a terrible face.
"Really!" said the Bishop.
This willingness to interrogate encouraged Madame Magloire; it seemedto her to indicate that the Bishop was on the point of becoming alarmed;she pursued triumphantly:--
"Yes, Monseigneur. That is how it is. There will be some sort ofcatastrophe in this town to-night. Every one says so. And withal, thepolice is so badly regulated" (a useful repetition). "The idea of livingin a mountainous country, and not even having lights in the streets atnight! One goes out. Black as ovens, indeed! And I say, Monseigneur, andMademoiselle there says with me--"
"I," interrupted his sister, "say nothing. What my brother does is welldone."
Madame Magloire continued as though there had been no protest:--
"We say that this house is not safe at all; that if Monseigneur willpermit, I will go and tell Paulin Musebois, the locksmith, to come andreplace the ancient locks on the doors; we have them, and it is only thework of a moment; for I say that nothing is more terrible than adoor which can be opened from the outside with a latch by the firstpasser-by; and I say that we need bolts, Monseigneur, if only for thisnight; moreover, Monseigneur has the habit of always saying 'come in';and besides, even in the middle of the night, O mon Dieu! there is noneed to ask permission."
At that moment there came a tolerably violent knock on the door.
"Come in," said the Bishop.
