Nothing in the aspect of the family was altered, except that the wife and daughters had levied on the package and put on woollen stockings and jackets. Two new blankets were thrown across the two beds. Jondrette had evidently just returned. He still had the breathlessness of out of doors. His daughters were seated on the floor near the fireplace, the elder dressing the younger's wounded hand. His wife had sunk back on the bed with a face indicative of astonishment. Jondrette was pacing with long strides. His eyes were extraordinary. What, really? You are sure? Sure! Eight years have passed! But I recognize him! I knew him at once! It is his figure, his face, only older. It is the very sound of his voice. He is better dressed, that is all. Ah! you mysterious old devil, I've got you! He told the daughters to get out. The mother stammered: with her injured hand. The air will do it good. Be off. At the door he detained the elder by the arm. You will be here at five o'clock precisely. Both of you. I shall need you. Marius redoubled his attention.
Left alone with his wife, Jondrette tucked the chemise into his trousers, folded his arms, and exclaimed: And would you like to have me tell you something? The young lady. He bent over and spoke in a whisper, then straightened himself. It is she! That very one. Surprise, rage, hate, wrath, were mingled in the mother's voice. The name, no doubt, which he had whispered, had sufficed to rouse this huge, somnolent woman, and from being repulsive she became terrible. It is not possible! When I think that my daughters are going barefoot, and have not a gown to their backs! A satin pelisse, a velvet bonnet, boots, more than two hundred francs' worth of clothes! The other was hideous, and this one is not so bad-looking! It can't be she! I tell you that it is she. You will see. At that absolute assertion the Jondrette woman stared at the ceiling with a horrible expression. She seemed to Marius even more to be feared than her husband. She was a sow with the look of a tigress. That horrible, beautiful young lady, who gazed at my daughters with an air of pity, she is that beggar brat! Oh! I should like to kick her stomach in for her! She sprang off the bed, fists clenched, then fell back. After a silence he halted in front of her again. And shall I tell you another thing? My fortune is made.
He wanted his turn before he died: to eat till he was full, to drink his fill, to do nothing, to be a bit of a millionaire, like other people. The woman told him not so loud. Who's here? Our neighbour? I saw him go out. He doesn't listen, the big booby. Nevertheless he lowered his voice, though not enough. The falling snow deadened the vehicles on the boulevard, and Marius lost not a word. The rich man is caught, or as good as caught. He will come this evening at six o'clock, to bring sixty francs. Did you notice how I played that game? I don't even owe for one quarter! Mother Bougon is off washing dishes. The neighbour never comes home until eleven. The children shall stand on watch. He will give in. And what if he does not give in? Jondrette made a sinister gesture. We'll fix him. This was the first time Marius had seen him laugh. The laugh was cold and sweet, and provoked a shudder. He put on an old cap. He had more people to see. It was mighty lucky the man had not recognised him. It was my beard that saved us! my pretty little romantic beard! He lapped the overcoat across his breast. This rind is too large for me. Never mind. If it hadn't been for that, I couldn't have gone out. He had barely taken half a dozen steps when the door opened again. I came near forgetting. You are to have a brazier of charcoal ready. And he flung into his wife's apron the five-franc piece which the philanthropist had left with him. Two good bushels. Don't go and spend the hundred-sou piece. I shall have to buy something, too. Where is there an ironmonger's? Rue Mouffetard. Eating is not the point today. There's something better to be done. That's enough, my jewel. The door closed. Marius heard the step die away and descend the staircase rapidly. At that moment, one o'clock struck from the church of Saint-Médard.
Coming Up in Chapter 213
Marius, dreamer as he was, was firm and energetic by nature. He took pity upon a toad, but he crushed a viper. Now it was into a hole of vipers that his glance had just been directed. These wretches must be stamped upon, he said.
