2.M.8.13. SOLUS CUM SOLO, IN LOCO REMOTO, NON COGITABUNTUR ORARE
PATER NOSTER
MARIUS, dreamer as he was, was, as we have said, firm and
energetic by nature. His habits of solitary meditation, while
they had developed in him sympathy and compassion, had,
perhaps, diminished the faculty for irritation, but had left
intact the power of waxing indignant; he had the kindliness
of a brahmin, and the severity of a judge; he took pity upon a
toad, but he crushed a viper. Now, it was into a hole of vipers
that his glance had just been directed, it was a nest of monsters
that he had beneath his eyes.
"These wretches must be stamped upon," said he.
Not one of the enigmas which he had hoped to see solved
had been elucidated; on the contrary, all of them had been
rendered more dense, if anything; he knew nothing more
about the beautiful maiden of the Luxembourg and the man
whom he called M. Leblanc, except that Jondrette was acquainted
with them. Athwart the mysterious words which had
been uttered, the only thing of which he caught a distinct
glimpse was the fact that an ambush was in course of preparation,
a dark but terrible trap; that both of them were incurring
great danger, she probably, her father certainly; that they
must be saved; that the hideous plots of the Jondrettes must
be thwarted, and the web of these spiders broken.
He scanned the female Jondrette for a moment. She had
pulled an old sheet-iron stove from a corner, and she was
rummaging
among the old heap of iron.
He descended from the commode as softly as possible,
taking
care not to make the least noise. Amid his terror as to what
was in preparation, and in the horror with which the Jondrettes
had inspired him, he experienced a sort of joy at the idea
that it might be granted to him perhaps to render a service to
the one whom he loved.
But how was it to be done? How warn the persons
threatened?
He did not know their address. They had reappeared
for an instant before his eyes, and had then plunged back
again into the immense depths of Paris. Should he wait for
M. Leblanc at the door that evening at six o'clock, at the moment
of his arrival, and warn him of the trap? But Jondrette
and his men would see him on the watch, the spot was
lonely, they were stronger than he, they would devise means
to seize him or to get him away, and the man whom Marius
was anxious to save would be lost. One o'clock had just struck,
the trap was to be sprung at six. Marius had five hours before
him.
There was but one thing to be done.
He put on his decent coat, knotted a silk handkerchief
round
his neck, took his hat, and went out, without making any
more noise than if he had been treading on moss with bare
feet.
Moreover, the Jondrette woman continued to rummage
among her old iron.
Once outside of the house, he made for the Rue du Petit-Banquier.
He had almost reached the middle of this street, near a
very
low wall which a man can easily step over at certain points,
and which abuts on a waste space, and was walking slowly, in
consequence of his preoccupied condition, and the snow deadened
the sound of his steps; all at once he heard voices talking
very close by. He turned his head, the street was deserted,
there was not a soul in it, it was broad daylight, and yet he
distinctly heard voices.
It occurred to him to glance over the wall which he was
skirting.
There, in fact, sat two men, flat on the snow, with their
backs against the wall, talking together in subdued tones.
These two persons were strangers to him; one was a bearded
man in a blouse, and the other a long-haired individual in rags.
The bearded man had on a fez, the other's head was bare, and
the snow had lodged in his hair.
By thrusting his head over the wall, Marius could hear
their
remarks.
The hairy one jogged the other man's elbow and said: —
" — With the assistance of Patron-Minette, it can't
fail."
"Do you think so?" said the bearded man.
And the long-haired one began again
"It's as good as a warrant for each one, of five hundred
balls,
and the worst that can happen is five years, six years, ten years
at the most!"
The other replied with some hesitation, and shivering
beneath
his fez: —
"That's a real thing. You can't go against such things."
"I tell you that the affair can't go wrong," resumed the
long-haired man. "Father What's-his-name's team will be already
harnessed."
Then they began to discuss a melodrama that they had seen
on the preceding evening at the Gaite Theatre.
Marius went his way.
It seemed to him that the mysterious words of these men,
so
strangely hidden behind that wall, and crouching in the snow,
could not but bear some relation to Jondrette's abominable
projects. That must be the affair.
He directed his course towards the faubourg Saint-Marceau
and asked at the first shop he came to where he could find a
commissary of police.
He was directed to Rue de Pontoise, No. 14.
Thither Marius betook himself.
As he passed a baker's shop, he bought a two-penny roll,
and
ate it, foreseeing that he should not dine.
On the way, he rendered justice to Providence. He
reflected
that had he not given his five francs to the Jondrette girl in
the morning, he would have followed M. Leblanc's fiacre, and
consequently have remained ignorant of everything, and that
there would have been no obstacle to the trap of the Jondrettes
and that M. Leblanc would have been lost, and his daughter
with him, no doubt.