Les Misérables: Essential Edition

M. Gillenormand had passed his ninetieth year. He ordinarily lived with his daughter in the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6, in the old house which he owned. This old gentleman was one of those men who become curiosities simply because they have lived a long time, and who are strange because they formerly resembled everybody, and now resemble nobody. He was a peculiar old man, and in very truth, a man of another age, the complete bourgeois of the eighteenth century, a little haughty, wearing his good, old bourgeoisie with the air with which marquises wear their marquisates. He had passed his ninetieth year, walked erect, spoke in a loud voice, saw clearly, drank neat, ate, slept, and snored. He had all thirty-two of his teeth. He only wore spectacles when he read. He was of an amorous disposition, but declared that, for the last ten years, he had wholly and decidedly renounced women. He could no longer please, he said; he did not add: "I am too old," but: "I am too poor." He said: "If I were not ruined—" His remaining fortune amounted to about fifteen thousand francs.