Blondeau’s Funeral Oration by Bossuet — Les Misérables

On a certain afternoon Laigle de Meaux was leaning against the doorpost of the Café Musain, a caryatid on a vacation, staring at the Place Saint-Michel. He was pondering, without melancholy, a little misadventure at the law-school two days before. Reverie does not prevent a cab from passing. A two-wheeled vehicle came through the place at a foot pace, as if in indecision. Beside the coachman sat a young man, and in front of him a bulky hand-bag. The bag displayed a name inscribed in large black letters on a card sewn to the stuff: MARIUS PONTMERCY. Laigle drew himself up and hurled the name at the cab. The young man, who had just quitted his grandfather's, beheld a face for the first time. I do not know you. Neither do I know you, said Laigle.

You were not at the school day before yesterday. Blondeau was calling the roll. At the third unanswered call a name is erased: sixty francs in the gulf. Blondeau, who delights to scent out the absent, slyly began with the letter P and called Marius Pontmercy three times. Laigle, who had bowels of compassion, said to himself, Let us save him, and replied Present. This is why you were not crossed off. And why I was. Blondeau skipped to the letter L. Laigle is from Meaux, and his name is Lesgle. If you are Pontmercy, you are not Laigle. That said, he crossed me off. Marius was mortified. Laigle demanded permission to embalm Blondeau in a few phrases of deeply felt eulogium, then told the young man to let it serve as a lesson: in future, be exact. Marius begged a thousand pardons. Laigle burst out laughing. I am delighted. I was on the brink of becoming a lawyer. This erasure saves me. I intend to pay a solemn call of thanks. Where do you live?

In this cab, said Marius. He had paid this rent for two hours and aspired to get rid of it, but there was a sort of history attached to it, and he did not know where to go. Courfeyrac emerged from the café. Come to my place, sir. Laigle had the priority, but he had no home. Hold your tongue, Bossuet, said Courfeyrac. Bossuet, said Marius, but I thought that your name was Laigle. De Meaux, replied Laigle; by metaphor, Bossuet. Courfeyrac entered the cab and gave the coachman the hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques. That very evening Marius found himself installed in a chamber side by side with Courfeyrac.