A Rose in Misery — Les Misérables

A very young girl was standing in the half-open door. The dormer window illuminated her with a wan light. She was a frail, emaciated, slender creature, with nothing but a chemise and a petticoat upon that chilled and shivering nakedness. Her girdle was a string, her head ribbon a string. She had the form of a young girl who has missed her youth, and the look of a corrupt old woman: fifty years mingled with fifteen. The most heart-breaking thing was that she had not come into the world to be homely. The remains of beauty were dying away in that face of sixteen, like pale sunlight extinguished under hideous clouds at dawn on a winter's day. That face was not wholly unknown to Marius. What do you wish? he asked. She replied in her voice of a drunken convict: Here is a letter for you. She called him by his name. She entered resolutely, staring at the whole room and the unmade bed. Her feet were bare. She was shivering. She held out a letter. The enormous wafer was still moist. The neighbour blessed him for having paid the rent six months ago. They had been without a morsel of bread for two days. The eldest daughter would await his orders.

This letter, coming in the midst of the mysterious adventure of the preceding evening, was like a candle in a cellar. All was suddenly illuminated. Same writing, same style, same paper, same odour of tobacco. Five missives, five histories, five signatures, and a single signer. The Spanish captain, the unhappy mother, the poet, the old comedian, were all named Jondrette, if indeed Jondrette himself were named Jondrette. Marius had lived in the house a long time and had paid so little heed that, on the preceding evening, he had jostled the Jondrette girls on the boulevard without recognizing them. Now he saw everything clearly. His neighbour, in his distress, exercised the industry of speculating on the charity of benevolent persons. He wrote under feigned names. He used his daughters as the stake. Meanwhile the young girl was wandering back and forth in the garret with the audacity of a spectre. She moved the chairs, she handled his clothes, she rummaged the corners. You have a mirror, said she. An indescribable constraint was perceptible beneath this hardihood. Effrontery is a disgrace. One felt that under other conditions the gay mien of this young girl might have turned out sweet. Never, even among animals, does the creature born to be a dove change into an osprey. That is only to be seen among men.

She approached the table. Ah, books. A flash pierced her glassy eye. I know how to read, I do. She seized a book that lay open and read, with tolerable fluency, a line about Waterloo. Ah, Waterloo. My father was there. We are fine Bonapartists in our house. And I know how to write, too. Before he had time to answer she wrote on a sheet of white paper: The bobbies are here. There are no faults of orthography. We have received an education, my sister and I. We have not always been as we are now. Then she burst out laughing, saying Bah, with an intonation which contained every form of anguish, stifled by every form of cynicism. She told him he was a very handsome fellow. She laid her hand on his shoulder. You pay no heed to me, but I know you. I meet you on the staircase, and I often see you going to a person named Father Mabeuf. Marius had retreated gently. He held out the envelope containing the four letters. She clapped her hands. We have been looking everywhere for that. We said that we had carried the letters, so as not to be beaten. If we get a breakfast today it will mean three meals at once. Marius fumbled in his pocket and collected five francs sixteen sous. This was all he owned in the world for the moment. He kept the sixteen sous, and handed the five francs to the young girl. She seized the coin. Good, said she, the sun is shining. She pulled her chemise up on her shoulders, made a low bow, and went towards the door. As she passed, she caught sight of a dry crust of bread on the commode, moulding amid the dust. She flung herself upon it and bit into it. That's good. It's hard. It breaks my teeth. Then she departed.