2.M.8.15. JONDRETTE MAKES HIS PURCHASES
A FEW moments later, about three o'clock, Courfeyrac
chanced to be passing along the Rue Mouffetard in company
with Bossuet. The snow had redoubled in violence, and filled
the air. Bossuet was just saying to Courfeyrac: —
"One would say, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that
there
was a plague of white butterflies in heaven." All at once,
Bossuet caught sight of Marius coming up the street towards
the barrier with a peculiar air.
"Hold!" said Bossuet. "There's Marius."
"I saw him," said Courfeyrac. "Don't let's speak to
him."
"Why?"
"He is busy."
"With what?"
"Don't you see his air?"
"What air?"
"He has the air of a man who is following some one."
"That's true," said Bossuet.
"Just see the eyes he is making!" said Courfeyrac.
"But who the deuce is he following?"
"Some fine, flowery bonneted wench! He's in love."
"But," observed Bossuet, "I don't see any wench nor any
flowery bonnet in the street. There's not a woman
round."
Courfeyrac took a survey, and exclaimed: —
"He's following a man!"
A man, in fact, wearing a gray cap, and whose gray beard
could be distinguished, although they only saw his back, was
walking along about twenty paces in advance of Marius.
This man was dressed in a great-coat which was perfectly
new and too large for him, and in a frightful pair of trousers
all hanging in rags and black with mud.
Bossuet burst out laughing.
"Who is that man?"
"He?" retorted Courfeyrac, "he's a poet. Poets are very
fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in rabbit skins and the
overcoats of peers of France."
"Let's see where Marius will go," said Bossuet; "let's see
where the man is going, let's follow them, hey?"
"Bossuet!" exclaimed Courfeyrac, "eagle of Meaux! You
are a prodigious brute. Follow a man who is following
another man, indeed!"
They retraced their steps.
Marius had, in fact, seen Jondrette passing along the Rue
Mouffetard, and was spying on his proceedings.
Jondrette walked straight ahead, without a suspicion that
he was already held by a glance.
He quitted the Rue Mouffetard, and Marius saw him enter
one of the most terrible hovels in the Rue Gracieuse; he remained
there about a quarter of an hour, then returned to the
Rue Mouffetard. He halted at an ironmonger's shop, which
then stood at the corner of the Rue Pierre-Lombard, and a
few minutes later Marius saw him emerge from the shop,
holding in his hand a huge cold chisel with a white wood
handle, which he concealed beneath his great-coat. At the
top of the Rue Petit-Gentilly he turned to the left and proceeded
rapidly to the Rue du Petit-Banquier. The day was
declining; the snow, which had ceased for a moment, had
just begun again. Marius posted himself on the watch at the
very corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier, which was deserted,
as usual, and did not follow Jondrette into it. It was lucky
that he did so, for, on arriving in the vicinity of the wall
where Marius had heard the long-haired man and the bearded
man conversing, Jondrette turned round, made sure that no
one was following him, did not see him, then sprang across
the wall and disappeared.
The waste land bordered by this wall communicated with
the back yard of an ex-livery stable-keeper of bad repute, who
had failed and who still kept a few old single-seated berlins
under his sheds.
Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by
Jondrette's
absence to return home; moreover, it was growing
late; every evening, Ma'am Bougon when she set out for her
dish-washing in town, had a habit of locking the door, which
was always closed at dusk. Marius had given his key to the
inspector of police; it was important, therefore, that he should
make haste.
Evening had arrived, night had almost closed in; on the
horizon and in the immensity of space, there remained
but one spot illuminated by the sun, and that was the
moon.
It was rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome of
Salpetriere.
Marius returned to No. 50-52 with great strides. The door
was still open when he arrived. He mounted the stairs on
tip-toe and glided along the wall of the corridor to his
chamber. This corridor, as the reader will remember, was
bordered on both sides by attics, all of which were, for the
moment, empty and to let. Ma'am Bougon was in the habit
of leaving all the doors open. As he passed one of these
attics, Marius thought he perceived in the uninhabited cell
the motionless heads of four men, vaguely lighted up by a
remnant of daylight, falling through a dormer window,
Marius made no attempt to see, not wishing to be seen himself.
He succeeded in reaching his chamber without being
seen and without making any noise. It was high time. A
moment later he heard Ma'am Bougon take her departure,
locking the door of the house behind her.