PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.
Marius, dreamer though he was, possessed, as we have said, a firm and
energetic nature. His habits of solitary contemplation, by developing
compassion and sympathy within him, had perhaps diminished the power
of being irritated, but left intact the power of becoming indignant:
he had the benevolence of a brahmin and the sternness of a judge, and
while he pitied a toad he crushed a viper. At present he had a nest
of vipers before him, and he said, "I must set my foot upon these
villains." Not one of the enigmas which he hoped to see cleared up was
solved; on the contrary, they had become more dense, and he had learned
no more about the pretty girl of the Luxembourg and the man whom he
called M. Leblanc, save that Jondrette knew them. Through the dark
words which had been uttered he only saw one thing distinctly, that a
snare was preparing,--an obscure but terrible snare; that they both ran
an imminent danger, she probably, and the father certainly; and that he
must save them, and foil the hideous combinations of the Jondrettes by
destroying their spider's web.
He watched the woman for a moment; she had taken an old sheet-iron
furnace from the corner, and was rummaging among the scraps of old
iron. He got off the chest of drawers as gently as he could, and
careful not to make any noise. In his terror at what was preparing, and
the horror with which the Jondrettes filled him, he felt a species of
joy at the idea that it might perhaps be in his power to render such a
service to her whom he loved. But what was he to do? Should he warn the
menaced persons? Where was he to find them? for he did not know their
address. They had reappeared to him momentarily, and then plunged again
into the immense profundities of Paris. Should he wait for M. Leblanc
at the gate at the moment when he arrived that evening and warn him of
the snare? But Jondrette and his comrades would see him on the watch.
The place was deserted, they would be stronger than he, they would find
means to get him out of the way, and the man whom Marius wished to save
would be lost. It had just struck one, and as the snare was laid for
six o'clock, Marius had five hours before him. There was only one thing
to be done; he put on his best coat, tied a handkerchief round his
neck, took his hat, and went out, making no more noise than if he were
walking barefoot on moss; besides, the woman was still rummaging the
old iron.
Once outside the house, he turned into the Rue du Petit Banquier.
About the middle of the street he found himself near a very low wall,
which it was possible to bestride in some places, and which surrounded
unoccupied ground. He was walking slowly, deep in thought as he was,
and the snow deadened his footsteps, when all at once he heard voices
talking close to him. He turned his head, but the street was deserted;
it was open day, and yet he distinctly heard the voices. He thought
of looking over the wall, and really saw two men seated in the snow,
and conversing in a low voice. They were strangers to him: one was a
bearded man in a blouse, and the other a hairy man in rags. The bearded
man wore a Greek cap, while the other was bareheaded, and had snow in
his hair. By thrusting out his head over them Marius could hear the
hairy man say to the other, with a nudge,--
"With Patron Minette it cannot fail."
"Do you think so?" asked the bearded man; and the hairy man added,--
"It will be five hundred balls for each, and the worst that can happen
is five years, six years, or ten at the most."
The other replied with some hesitation, and shuddering under his Greek
cap,--
"That is a reality; and people must not go to meet things of that sort."
"I tell you that the affair cannot fail," the hairy man continued.
"Father What's-his-name's trap will be all ready."
Then they began talking of a melodrama which they had seen on the
previous evening at the Gaité.
Marius walked on; but it seemed to him that the obscure remarks of
these men, so strangely concealed behind this wall, and crouching
in the snow, must have some connection with Jondrette's abominable
scheme; that must be the _affair_. He went toward the Faubourg St.
Marceau, and asked at the first shop he came to where he could find
a police commissary. He was told at No. 14, Rue de Pontoise, and he
proceeded there. As he passed a baker's he bought a two-sous roll and
ate it, as he foresaw that he should not dine. On the way he rendered
justice to Providence. He thought that if he had not given the five
francs in the morning to the girl, he should have followed M. Leblanc's
hackney coach and consequently known nothing. There would, in that
case, have been no obstacle to Jondrettes ambuscade, and M. Leblanc
would have been lost, and doubtless his daughter with him.