Marius decided that the moment had now arrived when he must resume his post at his observatory. In a twinkling, and with the agility of his age, he had reached the hole in the partition. He looked. The interior of the Jondrette apartment presented a curious aspect, and he found an explanation of the singular light. A candle was burning in a candlestick covered with verdigris, but that was not what really lighted the chamber. The hovel was completely illuminated by the reflection from a rather large sheet-iron brazier standing in the fireplace, filled with burning charcoal, the brazier prepared by the Jondrette woman that morning. The charcoal was glowing hot and the brazier was red. A blue flame flickered over it, and helped him to make out the form of the chisel purchased in the Rue Pierre-Lombard, where it had been thrust into the brazier to heat. In one corner, near the door, two heaps were visible, as though prepared for some definite use: the one a heap of old iron, the other a heap of ropes. All this would have caused the mind of a person who knew nothing of what was in preparation to waver between a very sinister and a very simple idea. The lair thus lighted up more resembled a forge than a mouth of hell, but Jondrette, in this light, had rather the air of a demon than of a smith. The heat was so great that the candle on the table was melting on the side next the chafing-dish. An old dark-lantern of copper stood on the chimney-piece. The brazier, placed in the fireplace itself, sent its vapours up the chimney and gave out no odour. A breath of air through the open pane helped to dissipate the smell of the charcoal and to conceal the presence of the brazier. The moon, entering through the four panes, cast its whiteness into the crimson garret. To the poetic spirit of Marius, who was dreamy even in the moment of action, it was like a thought of heaven mingled with the misshapen reveries of earth.
The Jondrette lair was admirably chosen to serve as the theatre of a violent and sombre deed. It was the most retired chamber in the most isolated house on the most deserted boulevard in Paris. The whole thickness of a house and a multitude of uninhabited rooms separated this den from the boulevard, and the only window opened on waste lands enclosed with walls. If the system of ambush and traps had not already existed, they would have been invented there. Jondrette had lighted his pipe, seated himself on the seatless chair, and was smoking. His wife was talking to him in a low tone. She had on a black bonnet with plumes, an immense tartan shawl over her knitted petticoat, and the man's shoes which her daughter had scorned in the morning. It was this toilette which had extracted from Jondrette the exclamation: Good! You have dressed up. You must inspire confidence. He had not taken off the new surtout, too large for him, which Leblanc had given him. All at once he lifted up his voice. In this weather, he will come in a carriage. Light the lantern, take it and go downstairs. Stand behind the lower door. The very moment you hear the carriage stop, open instantly. He will come up. You will light the staircase and the corridor, and when he enters here, you will go downstairs again as speedily as possible, you will pay the coachman, and dismiss the fiacre. And the money? inquired the woman. Jondrette fumbled in his trousers pocket and handed her five francs. What's this? she exclaimed. That is the monarch which our neighbour gave us this morning, he replied with dignity. And he added: Do you know what? Two chairs will be needed here. What for? To sit on. Marius felt a cold chill pass through his limbs at hearing this mild answer.
Pardieu, I'll go and get one of our neighbour's. With a rapid movement she opened the door of the den and went out into the corridor. Marius absolutely had not the time to descend from the commode, reach his bed, and conceal himself beneath it. Take the candle, cried Jondrette. No, said she, it would embarrass me. I have the two chairs to carry. There is moonlight. Marius heard Mother Jondrette's heavy hand fumbling at his lock in the dark. The door opened. He remained nailed to the spot with the shock and with horror. A ray of moonlight entered between two blocks of shadow. One of these blocks entirely covered the wall against which Marius was leaning, so that he disappeared within it. Mother Jondrette raised her eyes, did not see him, took the two chairs, the only ones which Marius possessed, and went away, letting the door fall heavily to behind her. She re-entered the lair. Here are the two chairs. And here is the lantern. Go down as quick as you can. She hastily obeyed, and Jondrette was left alone. He placed the two chairs on opposite sides of the table, turned the chisel in the brazier, set in front of the fireplace an old screen which masked the chafing-dish, then went to the corner where lay the pile of rope, and bent down as though to examine something. Marius then recognised the fact that what he had taken for a shapeless mass was a very well-made rope-ladder, with wooden rungs and two hooks. This ladder, and some large tools, veritable masses of iron, had not been in the hovel in the morning, and had evidently been brought thither in the afternoon, during Marius' absence. Those are the utensils of an edge-tool maker, thought Marius. Had he been a little more learned in this line, he would have recognised instruments which will force a lock or pick a lock, and others which will cut or slice. The fireplace and the two chairs were exactly opposite him. The brazier being concealed, the only light was now the candle. There was something indescribably calm, threatening, and hideous about this chamber. One felt that there existed in it the anticipation of something terrible. Jondrette had allowed his pipe to go out, a serious sign of preoccupation, and had again seated himself. In the course of one of those dark replies which he was making to himself, he pulled the table drawer rapidly towards him, took out a long kitchen knife which was concealed there, and tried the edge of its blade on his nail. That done, he put the knife back in the drawer and shut it. Marius, on his side, grasped the pistol in his right pocket, drew it out and cocked it. The pistol emitted a sharp, clear click. Jondrette started, half rose, listened a moment, then began to laugh. What a fool I am! It's the partition cracking! Marius kept the pistol in his hand.
