A SONG TO AN ENGLISH AIR POPULAR IN 1832.
Marius sat down on his bed: it might be about half-past five, and only
half an hour separated him from what was about to happen. He heard his
arteries beat as you hear the ticking of a clock in the darkness, and
he thought of the double march which was taking place at this moment in
the shadows,--crime advancing on one side, and justice coming up on the
other. He was not frightened, but he could not think without a certain
tremor of the things that were going to happen, like all those who are
suddenly assailed by a surprising adventure. This whole day produced
on him the effect of a dream, and in order not to believe himself the
prey of a nightmare he was obliged to feel in his pockets the cold
barrels of the pistols. It no longer snowed; the moon, now very bright,
dissipated the mist, and its rays, mingled with the white reflection
from the fallen snow, imparted a twilight appearance to the room. There
was a light in Jondrette's room, and Marius could see the hole in the
partition glowing with a ruddy brilliancy that appeared to him the
color of blood. It was evident that this light could not be produced
by a candle. There was no movement in the den, no one stirred there,
no one spoke, there was not a breath; the silence was chilling and
profound, and had it not been for the light, Marius might have fancied
himself close to a grave. He gently took off his boots and thrust them
under the bed. Several minutes elapsed, and then Marius heard the
house-gate creaking on its hinges, a heavy quick step ran up the stairs
and along the passage, the hasp of the door was noisily raised; it was
Jondrette returned home. All at once several voices were raised, and it
was plain that the whole family were at home. They were merely silent
in the master's absence, like the whelps in the absence of the wolves.
"It is I," he said.
"Good evening, pappy," the girls yelped.
"Well?" the wife asked.
"All is well," Jondrette answered, "but I am cold as a starved dog.
That's right, I am glad to see that you are dressed, for it inspires
confidence."
"All ready to go out."
"You will not forget anything that I told you? You will do it all
right."
"Of course."
"Because--" Jondrette began, but did not complete the sentence.
Marius heard him lay something heavy on the table, probably the chisel
which he had bought.
"Well," Jondrette continued, "have you been eating here?"
"Yes," said the mother; "I bought three large potatoes and some salt.
I took advantage of the fire to roast them."
"Good!" Jondrette remarked; "to-morrow you will dine with me: we will
have a duck and trimmings, and you will feed like Charles the Tenth."
Then he added, lowering his voice,--
"The mousetrap is open, and the cats are here."
He again lowered his voice and said,--
"Put this in the fire."
Marius heard a clicking of coals stirred with pincers or some iron
tool, and Jondrette ask,--
"Have you tallowed the hinges of the door, so that they may make no
noise?"
"Yes," the mother answered.
"What o'clock is it?"
"Close on six. It has struck the half-hour at St. Médard."
"Hang it!" said Jondrette, "the girls must go on the watch. Come here
and listen to me."
There was a whispering, and then Jondrette's voice was again uplifted.
"Has Mame Bougon gone?"
"Yes," the mother answered.
"Are you sure there is nobody in the neighbor's room?"
"He has not come in all day, and you know that this is his dinner hour."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite."
"No matter," Jondrette added; "there is no harm in going to see whether
he is in. Daughter, take the candle and go."
Marius fell on his hands and knees and silently crawled under the bed;
he had scarce done so ere he saw light through the cracks of his door.
"Papa," a voice exclaimed, "he is out."
He recognized the elder girl's voice.
"Have you been in his room?" the lather asked.
"No," the girl replied; "but as his key is in his door he has gone out"
The father shouted,--
"Go in, all the same."
The door opened, and Marius saw the girl come in, candle in hand. She
was the same as in the morning, save that she was even more fearful
in this light. She walked straight up to the bed, and Marius suffered
a moment of intense anxiety; but there was a looking-glass hanging
from a nail by the bedside, and it was to that she proceeded. She
stood on tip-toe and looked at herself; a noise of iron being moved
could be heard in the other room. She smoothed her hair with her hand,
and smiled in the glass while singing, in her cracked and sepulchral
voice,--
"Nos amours out duré toute une semaine,
Mais que du bonheur les instants sont courts,
S'adorer huit jours c'était bien la peine!
Le temps des amours devrait durer toujours!
Devrait durer toujours! devrait durer toujours."
Still Marius trembled, for he thought that she could not help hearing
his breathing. She walked to the window and looked out, while saying
aloud with the half-crazy look she had,--
"How ugly Paris is when it has put on a white sheet!"
She returned to the glass, and began taking a fresh look at herself,
first full face and then three-quarters.
"Well," asked the father, "what are you doing there?"
"I am looking under the bed and the furniture," she said, as she
continued to smooth her hair; "but there is nobody."
"You she-devil!" the father yelled. "Come here directly, and lose no
time."
"Coming, coming," she said; "there's no time to do anything here."
Then she hummed,--
"Vous me quittez pour aller à la gloire,
Mon triste cœur suivra partout vos pas."
She took a parting glance at the glass and went off, closing the door
after her. A moment later Marius heard the sound of the girls' naked
feet pattering along the passage, and Jondrette's voice shouting to
them,--
"Pay attention! One at the barrière, and the other at the corner of the
Rue du Petit Banquier. Do not for a minute lose sight of the door of
the house, and if you see anything come back at once--at once; you have
a key to let yourselves in."
The elder daughter grumbled,--
"To stand sentry barefooted in the snow, what a treat!"
"To-morrow you shall have beetle-colored silk boots," the father said.
They went down the stain, and a few seconds later the sound of the gate
closing below announced that they had reached the street. The only
persons in the house now were Marius, the Jondrettes, and probably,
too, the mysterious beings of whom Marius had caught a glimpse in the
gloom behind the door of the unoccupied room.