Jondrette Makes His Purchases — Les Misérables

A few moments later, about three o'clock, Courfeyrac chanced to be passing along the Rue Mouffetard in company with Bossuet. The snow had redoubled in violence and filled the air. Bossuet was just saying that one would think, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven. All at once he caught sight of Marius coming up the street towards the barrier with a peculiar air. Hold! There's Marius. I saw him, said Courfeyrac. Don't let's speak to him. Why? He is busy. With what? Don't you see his air? He has the air of a man who is following some one. That's true. Just see the eyes he is making! But who the deuce is he following? Some fine, flowery bonneted wench! He's in love. But, observed Bossuet, I don't see any wench nor any flowery bonnet in the street. There's not a woman round. Courfeyrac took a survey and exclaimed: He's following a man! A man, in fact, wearing a grey cap, and whose grey beard could be distinguished, although they only saw his back, was walking about twenty paces in advance of Marius. This man was dressed in a great-coat which was perfectly new and too large for him, and in a frightful pair of trousers all hanging in rags and black with mud. Bossuet burst out laughing. Who is that man? He? He's a poet. Poets are very fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in rabbit skins and the overcoats of peers of France. Let's see where Marius will go. Let's follow them, hey? Bossuet! exclaimed Courfeyrac. Eagle of Meaux! You are a prodigious brute. Follow a man who is following another man, indeed! They retraced their steps.

Marius had, in fact, seen Jondrette passing along the Rue Mouffetard, and was spying on his proceedings. Jondrette walked straight ahead, without a suspicion that he was already held by a glance. He entered one of the most terrible hovels in the Rue Gracieuse, remained there about a quarter of an hour, then returned. He halted at an ironmonger's shop at the corner of the Rue Pierre-Lombard, and a few minutes later Marius saw him emerge holding in his hand a huge cold chisel with a white wood handle, which he concealed beneath his great-coat. At the top of the Rue Petit-Gentilly he turned to the left and proceeded rapidly to the Rue du Petit-Banquier. The day was declining. The snow, which had ceased for a moment, had just begun again. Marius posted himself on the watch at the very corner, which was deserted as usual, and did not follow Jondrette into it. It was lucky that he did so, for, on arriving in the vicinity of the wall where Marius had heard the two men conversing, Jondrette turned round, made sure that no one was following him, did not see him, then sprang across the wall and disappeared.

Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by Jondrette's absence to return home. Moreover, it was growing late. Every evening Ma'am Bougon, when she set out for her dish-washing in town, had a habit of locking the door, which was always closed at dusk. Marius had given his key to the inspector of police. It was important, therefore, that he should make haste. Evening had arrived. Night had almost closed in. On the horizon there remained but one spot illuminated by the sun, and that was the moon, rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome of Salpêtrière. Marius returned to number 50-52 with great strides. The door was still open when he arrived. He mounted the stairs on tiptoe and glided along the wall of the corridor to his chamber. This corridor was bordered on both sides by attics, all of which were, for the moment, empty and to let. As he passed one of these attics, Marius thought he perceived in the uninhabited cell the motionless heads of four men, vaguely lighted up by a remnant of daylight falling through a dormer window. Marius made no attempt to see, not wishing to be seen himself. He succeeded in reaching his chamber without being seen and without making any noise. It was high time. A moment later he heard Ma'am Bougon take her departure, locking the door of the house behind her.