We have mentioned a lancer. Lieutenant Théodule Gillenormand was a great-grand-nephew who led a garrison life far from the hearth. He fulfilled the conditions of a fine officer: a lady's waist, a victorious manner of trailing his sword. He visited Paris so rarely that Marius had never seen him. The cousins knew each other only by name. Théodule was the favourite of Aunt Gillenormand, who preferred him because she did not see him. Not seeing people permits one to attribute to them all possible perfections.
One morning the elder Mademoiselle Gillenormand returned to her apartment disturbed. Marius had asked permission to take a little trip that very evening. Go, his grandfather had said, and added, Here he is passing the night out again. On the staircase she dropped, This is too much, and, But where is it that he goes? She espied some adventure of the heart, a woman in the shadow, and she would not have been sorry to thrust her spectacles into the affair. Tasting a mystery resembles getting the first flavour of a scandal. She took refuge in her embroideries of cart-wheels, clumsy and cross, until the door opened and Lieutenant Théodule stood making the regulation salute. She uttered a cry of delight. One may be old, a prude, pious, an aunt, but it is always agreeable to see a lancer enter one's chamber. He was only passing through: Melun to Gaillon, a seat in the diligence. She put ten louis into his hand. Is my cousin Marius Pontmercy travelling so, too? He had seen the name on a card for the imperial, bound for Andelys. The wicked fellow, she said. An idea struck her. Follow Marius a little. He does not know you. Since a lass there is, try to get a sight of her. You must write us the tale. It will amuse his grandfather. Théodule had no excessive taste for this sort of spying, but he was much touched by the ten louis. He accepted. Here I am a duenna, he said to himself. Marius, the next evening, mounted the diligence without suspecting that he was watched. As for the watcher, the first thing he did was to fall asleep. Argus snored all night long.
At daybreak the conductor shouted Vernon. Théodule woke, remembered the ten louis, and laughed. Perhaps he is no longer in the coach. What the devil am I to write to that good old soul? Then a pair of black trousers descended from the imperial. It was Marius. A little peasant girl was offering flowers. Marius purchased the finest in her basket. Théodule, no longer in pursuance of orders but from personal curiosity, followed. Elegant women descended; Marius did not glance at them. He directed his steps towards the church, then did not enter, but skirted the apse. Théodule advanced on the tips of his boots and halted in amazement. Marius, with his forehead clasped in his hands, was kneeling upon the grass on a grave. He had strewn his bouquet there. At the extremity, on a little swelling which marked the head, stood a cross of black wood with this name in white letters: COLONEL BARON PONTMERCY. Marius's sobs were audible. The lass was a grave.
Coming Up in Chapter 175
It was hither that Marius had come on the first occasion of his absenting himself from Paris. It was hither that he had come every time the old man had said he is sleeping out. The lancer, put out of countenance by a sepulchre, decided not to write at all.
