STRATEGY AND TACTICS.
Marius, with an aching heart, was just going to descend from the
species of observatory which he had improvised, when a noise attracted
his attention and made him remain at his post. The door of the garret
was suddenly opened, and the elder daughter appeared on the threshold.
She had on her feet clumsy men's shoes covered with mud, which had even
plashed her red ankles, and she was covered with an old ragged cloak,
which Marius had not noticed an hour previously, and which she had
probably left at his door in order to inspire greater sympathy, and
put on again when she went out. She came in, shut the door after her,
stopped to catch breath, for she was panting, and then cried, with an
expression of triumph and joy,--
"He is coming!"
The father turned his eyes to her, the mother turned her head, and the
little girl did not move.
"Who?" the father asked.
"The gentleman."
"The philanthropist?"
"Yes."
"From the church of St. Jacques?"
"Yes. He is following me."
"Are you sure?"
"He is coming in a hackney coach, I tell you."
"A hackney coach! Why, it is Rothschild!"
The father rose.
"Why are you sure? If he is coming in a coach, how is it that you got
here before him? Did you give him the address, and are you certain you
told him the last door on the right in the passage? I only hope he will
not make a mistake. Did you find him at church? Did he read my letter,
and what did he say to you?"
"Ta, ta, ta," said the girl, "how you gallop, my good man! I went into
the church, he was at his usual place; I made a courtesy and handed
him the letter; he read it, and said to me, 'Where do you live, my
child?' I said, I will show you the way, sir;' he said, 'No, give me
your address, for my daughter has some purchases to make. I will take
a hackney coach, and be at your abode as soon as you.' I gave him
the address, and when I mentioned the house he seemed surprised, and
hesitated for a moment, but then said, 'No matter, I will go.' When
Mass was over I saw him leave the church and get into a coach with his
daughter. And I carefully told him the last door on the right at the
end of the passage."
"And what tells you that he will come?"
"I have just seen the coach turn into the Rue du Petit Banquier, and
that is why I ran."
"How do you know it is the same coach?"
"Because I noticed the number, of course."
"What was it?"
"Four hundred and forty."
"Good I you are a clever girl."
The girl looked boldly at her father, and said, as she pointed to the
shoes on her feet,--
"It is possible that I am a clever girl; but I say that I will not put
on those shoes again; in the first place, on account of my health, and
secondly, for the sake of decency. I know nothing more annoying than
shoes which are too big for you, and go ghi, ghi, ghi, along the road.
I would sooner be barefooted."
"You are right," the father replied, in a gentle voice, which
contrasted with the girl's rudeness; "but the poor are not admitted
into churches unless they wear shoes; God's presence must not be
entered barefoot," he added bitterly. Then he returned to the object
that occupied him.
"And so you are sure that he will come?"
"He is at my heels," she replied.
The man drew himself up, and there was a species of illumination on his
face.
"Wife," he cried, "you hear! Here is the philanthropist; put out the
fire."
The stupefied mother did not stir, but the father, with the agility of
a mountebank, seized the cracked pot, which stood on the chimney-piece,
and threw water on the logs. Then he said to his elder daughter,--
"Pull the straw out of the chair."
As his daughter did not understand him, he seized the chair and kicked
the seat out; his leg passed through it, and while drawing it out, he
asked the girl,--
"Is it cold?"
"Very cold; it is snowing."
The father turned to the younger girl, who was on the bed near the
window, and shouted in a thundering voice,--
"Come off the bed directly, idler; you never will do anything: break a
pane of glass!"
The little girl jumped off the bed, shivering.
"Break a pane!" he continued.
The girl was quite stunned, and did not move.
"Do you hear me?" the father repeated; "I tell you to break a pane."
The child, with a sort of terrified obedience, stood on tip-toe and
broke a pane with her fist; the glass fell with a great crash.
"All right!" said the father.
He was serious and active, and his eye rapidly surveyed every corner
of the garret; he was like a general who makes his final preparations
at the moment when an action is about to begin. The mother, who had
not yet said a word, rose and asked in a slow, dull voice, the words
seeming to issue as if frozen,--
"Darling, what do you intend to do?"
"Go to bed!" the man replied.
The tone admitted of no deliberation, the mother obeyed, and threw
herself heavily on one of the beds. A sobbing was now audible in a
corner.
"What is that?" the father cried.
The younger girl, without leaving the gloom in which she was crouching,
showed her bleeding hand. In breaking the glass she had cut herself;
she had crawled close to her mother's bed, and was now crying
silently. It was the mother's turn to draw herself up and cry:--
"You see what nonsensical acts you commit! She has cut herself in
breaking the window."
"All the better," said the man; "I expected it."
"How all the better?" the woman continued.
"Silence!" the father replied. "I suppress the liberty of the press."
Then, tearing the chemise which he wore, he made a bandage, with which
he quickly wrapped up the girl's bleeding hand; this done, his eye
settled on the torn shirt with satisfaction.
"And the shirt too!" he said; "all this looks well."
An icy blast blew through the pane and entered the room. The external
fog penetrated it, and dilated like a white wadding pulled open by
invisible fingers. The snow could be seen falling through the broken
pane, and the cold promised by the Candlemas sun had really arrived.
The father took a look around him, as if to make sure that he had
forgotten nothing, then he fetched an old shovel and strewed the ashes
over the wet logs so as to conceal them entirely. Then getting up and
leaning against the chimney-piece, he said,--
"Now we can receive the philanthropist."